(An Asaph story poem for soul-shaping.)
Listen up, class.
I’ve got something to say.
I’ve got a story to tell,
An old one with deep meaning.
We should know it by now,
Since we’ve been telling it for ages.
But I’m telling it to you
So you’ll tell the next generation.
It’s essential we not forget
The amazing things Yahweh did.
Powerful thing,
Beautiful things.
He gave Jacob the gift of an ordered life,
The Law as a gift to Israel.
He told our ancestors to pass it down
So every generation would benefit,
Including kids yet to be born.
Telling and retelling and retelling.
The goal: Trusting in God,
Remembering his words,
Not forgetting his deeds.
That way they’d avoid the stupid mistakes
Of past generations,
Of disloyal people
Who walked away from God.
The Ephraim solders failed,
Running away in fear
When well-armed for battle.
They were really running away from God,
Ditching his law when it got uncomfortable.
Fear made them forget,
Pushing God’s deeds into the unremembered past,
Even though those deeds were done
In front of their very eyes
When they lived in Egypt,
In Zoan province.
They saw him split the sea down the middle,
A water wall on either side.
He used a cloud to guide them during the day
And a fire at night.
He broke open rocks.
Out sprang an unending supply of water
In the desert.
Streams from stones.
Just like that: a river!
Did that stop their sinning?
Hardly.
It was rebellion against the Great One instead.
They intentionally tried to get God mad,
Demanding food like whiny kids.
They questioned God’s ability
To care for his people:
“Can God put food on the table
Here in the wild?
Yes, water from rocks was nice,
But what about bread?
What about meat?”
Yahweh heard that
And he was ticked off!
He blazed against Judah,
Fury-filled at Israel.
This was the issue:
They didn’t believe in God,
Abandoning trust in his loving care for them.
Even so, he did take care of them.
”Hey sky,” he said,
”Open up!”
And out poured manna,
Heaven’s grain,
Angel’s bread.
More than enough for everyone.
”Hey east wind,” he said,
”And you, too, south wind —
Blow!”
And down came meat
Like a dust storm —
Birds everywhere —
The camp was littered with them.
You couldn’t walk out of your tent
Without stepping on them.
So, they stuffed themselves.
They got what they’d whined about.
But while they were still at their tables,
Forks in their hands,
Meat in their mouths,
God turned his blessing into a curse.
The healthiest among them died,
Israel’s young men included.
You’d think that would teach them a lesson.
It didn’t.
The kept sinning.
They kept not believing.
They wasted their lives.
They died in their fear.
The only time they’d turn to God
Was when he brought suffering and death to them.
That’s when they’d do what I want you to do:
Remember.
They remembered God was the ground beneath their feet,
That the Greatest God had bought them out of slavery.
But they got good at cheap talk,
Empty words with cold hearts,
Cheating hearts.
But he’s always been so tender hearted,
He forgave them,
Not giving them what they deserved.
And not just once.
This happened over and over and over again.
He cooled down,
Not letting them see how he really felt.
They didn’t remember who he was,
But he remembered who they were:
Mortals.
Here today, gone tomorrow.
With all the practice they got,
They became pros at rebelling.
And God wept over them so many times.
They intentionally triggered him
Over and over and over again,
Continually pushing the buttons
Of the Holy One of Israel.
Did they remember his power?
Of course not.
He did all those amazing things in Egypt,
In Zoan province,
To buy them out of slavery.
He turned the River into blood.
No drinking that!
He sent swarms of biting flies.
He covered the ground with disgusting frogs.
He fed their fields to grasshoppers,
Their vegetables to locusts.
He ruined their vines with hail,
Their fig trees too,
Slaughtering their cattle and other livestock
With hail and lightning.
He let loose with such white hot rage,
Rising from disgust with them.
He sent a commando raid of assassin angels.
He funneled his anger,
Bringing it to a final focus in a plague of death.
He killed the firstborn in every home in Egypt,
So many sons lost of Ham’s descendants.
But his own people were well-tended,
Brought out of that place
Like a vast flock of sheep.
He kept them safe,
With nothing to fear,
While the sea swallowed their enemies whole.
In time, he brought them to this beautiful land,
With hills running right down the middle of it.
He kicked out the inhabitants
And handed over the land as their inheritance,
Every tribe settling into their new homes.
How did they respond?
More intentional disobedience.
More rebellion against the Great One.
More flaunting of his rules.
If there’s one family trait that got passed down to them,
It’s infidelity,
A lack of loyalty —
As reliable as a sprained ankle.
On every hill, they built shrines
To pagan gods,
Putting God into a jealous rage.
He threw up his hands and walked away.
He didn’t want anything to do with Israel
Or the Shiloh shrine,
His former meeting place.
He let the ark get captured,
His throne get pawed by pagans.
He let his people die in battle.
He wanted to disinherit them.
Young men burned to death;
Their fiancées didn’t become brides.
Priests became victims of war,
Their widows too grieved to even shed a tear.
Then it was as if God woke up from a drunken sleep
And he remembered.
He fought the invaders,
Defeating them decisively.
He weeded out Joseph and Ephraim,
Choosing the tribe of Judah for the kingship instead.
He loved Mount Zion
And built his sanctuary-home there,
As permanent as the earth itself.
He found David out in the sheep pens,
Picking him to shepherd his people Jacob
Instead of sheep.
And that’s what he did,
Shepherding Israel,
God’s inheritance,
With whole-hearted integrity
And skillful leadership.