On the day the Tent of the Lord’s presence was set up, a cloud came and covered it. At night the cloud looked like fire. Whenever the cloud lifted, the people of Israel broke camp, and they set up camp again in the place where the cloud came down. The people broke camp at the command of the Lord, and at his command they set up camp.
As long as the cloud stayed over the Tent, they stayed in the same camp. When the cloud stayed over the Tent for a long time, they obeyed the Lord and did not move on. Sometimes the cloud remained over the Tent for only a few days; in any case, they remained in camp or moved, according to the command of the Lord. Sometimes the cloud remained only from evening until morning, and they moved on as soon as the cloud lifted.
Whenever the cloud lifted, they moved on. Whether it was two days, a month, a year, or longer, as long as the cloud remained over the Tent, they did not move on; but when it lifted, they moved. They set up camp and broke camp in obedience to the commands which the Lord gave through Moses. (Good News Translation)
I know a few believers who would really like to have their spiritual lives governed by a cloud lifting and moving and settling. Then, there wouldn’t be any doubt about what to do and when to do it.
But keep in mind that this arrangement of a cloud was temporary; it was only meant to get the Israelites from one place to another until they entered the Promised Land. Anytime we try and make something permanent which is designed to be temporary, we become stuck, not to mention missing out on the good things intended for us.
In a time of transition for the nation of Israel, the gracious presence of God provided both guidance and assurance. The Lord was with them; and the divine presence reminded the people that God’s promise would be fulfilled.
The book of Numbers begins at the point where the book of Exodus leaves off. Leviticus is in between, interrupting the narrative flow with detailed legislation, especially of the sacrificial worship system. Exodus ends with the construction of the tabernacle (the sacred tent with the ark of the covenant and worship utensils).
Numbers then begins a year after Israel came out of Egypt. It covers the years of wandering in the desert wilderness in which an entire generation dies off and their children are poised to enter the Promised Land. The bulk of the book is given to the beginning and ending of the 40 years of wandering.
The Sinai Peninsula, where the Israelites walked, is a rather harsh environment. This is on purpose; it’s part of the nation’s spiritual development. The desert is the place where failures are acknowledged and purged. It’s a unique place and time which required a special system to safeguard the people. They needed to be guided toward holiness so that they could be a holy nation, set apart for God.
In many ways, Numbers is a depressing book. It tells us the painful shortcomings of Israel to their divinely appointed calling. There are plenty of murmurings, rebellions, and outright transgressions of all kinds. I can just imagine God shaking his head in disappointment.
Yet, even though many individuals were punished and an entire generation died, God’s covenant with the people held firm – namely because the Lord tenaciously held to it and did not abandon Israel altogether. The tabernacle remained, despite the fickle people.
The point is strongly made that God was with the people and governed their comings and goings. And this teaches us something about our own spiritual pilgrimage on this earth; and the decisions and discernments which must be made in that sojourn.
There are times we need to pack up and get moving; and there are other times when we need to stay put, pause, and wait on the Lord’s timing. Our entire earthly life is one big sojourn from birth to death. How we go about this pilgrimage is of upmost importance.
We are meant to connect with transcendent things, to discover the Divine. The Lord wants us to discern what to do, when to do it, and where. So we keep moving, learning both the value of putting down roots and blessing a particular place, as well as the importance of walking, traveling, and spreading out across the earth. In engaging these dynamics of movement and stillness, we learn about realities greater than ourselves.
There is a lot of work to do with discernment and decision-making. We may long for a pillar of cloud, but the Lord seems to want us leaping into the unknown with faith when it’s time; or to stop talking, sit down, and listen for the still small voice of God. And we’ll need to work together for this discernment to happen.
A change in direction requires right motives and proper attitudes. It’s got to have some solid knowledge, understanding, and wisdom behind it. And our movements must be purposeful in a way which blesses the world and doesn’t curse it.
In short, faith and trust are to be developed. Faith is not a static word, but dynamic. Believing is always moving, either in redemptive and helpful ways, or in the unbelieving ways of self-centeredness and ignorance. And since the believer serves a good God who has our best interests at mind, we can trust that we’re headed toward the place of promise and abundance.
Course corrections will always be needed, and that’s okay. But what’s not okay is the refusal to change, move, and discern next steps. One of the wonderful gifts of taking time for silence, solitude, and prayer is that we learn the subtle movements of God’s spiritual rhythms. We discern who we are, how we are, where we are, and where we need to be.
May it please the supreme and divine Goodness to give us all abundant grace ever to know his most holy will and perfectly to fulfill it. Amen. —St. Ignatius of Loyola
Rev. Tim Ehrhardt 