Spies

I awoke this morning feeling bitter and deceived. And if you’d rather read fairy tales, you’d best stop right here, because this isn’t a fairy tale.

I felt deceived by God. I felt bitter toward God.

You see, I’m here in my Promised Land. Exciting, isn’t it? Except that my body feels lousy, my mind seems unproductive, and my emotions are not stable. It has been at least ten years since I’ve resided in such uncomfortable living quarters. And this is the Promised Land. It was supposed to be better than the wilderness, but I am bound to tell you that, so far, it’s much worse—although some of it probably feels worse just because I had been led to believe it would be better.

Thus feeling deceived and bitter.

It can be so very easy to think more highly of ourselves than we rightfully should, and if there is one time it’s easy to do that, it’s when we read about the twelve spies entering Canaan, and their reactions. We read about the ten who came back, and we are appalled that they saw the fabulous produce and the beauty of the land, and still advised against going in. We are amazed by their unbelief. After all, look at the miracles they’d seen!

And look at the years of hard labor they’d experienced in Egypt. Look at the emptiness of the wilderness in which they’d lived. They were probably tired. They were looking at the prospect of doing something that no one had ever done before, and they simply could not conceive of being able to do it. All the laws Moses wound up giving them related to after they’d conquered the land, but there was not so much—ever—as one written instruction on how to take the land.

The spies took a realistic look at themselves. They took a realistic look at the land. They took a realistic look at the people who were living in the land. They remembered that God had allowed them to weep in Egypt for years before He rescued them. It was no wonder that for a moment they forgot the amazing miracles and the powerful deliverance. The wonder is that there were two spies who took a different perspective.

So, somewhere inside of the bitterness, I realized that I’m listening to my spies instead of hearing God’s voice. It is my spies who are telling me that this land isn’t worth what it will take to possess it. My spies are telling me I may never possess this land. Everything is ugly right now, so it’s no wonder my spies are saying that.

But in this ugliness, I’m still here. Out of this ugliness, God will show up. Through this ugliness, I’ll have a testimony someday. One day all of this ugliness will be nothing more than a backdrop for a beautiful picture.

So when you are ready to enter your land, just remember: you can’t believe everything your spies say.

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