The Standard

Time chased her, every precious second propelled her forward, knowing that those seconds meant life to the ones she loved.  Her feet barely touched the ground as she hastened toward Moses' tent.  All around her wails of grief rose to a feverish pitch, but she refused to acknowledge them.  Not now.  She had spent the last three days tending to the sick, watching the venom slowly drain the life blood from each one.  Snake venom.  Snakes with red eyes, their eyes being the only alert to their presence, their dust colored scales blending into the desert sand keeping them hidden until it was too late.  At first the venom appeared to do no harm, but mild fevers of two days rose in the night.  Rose to deathly heights, and now the cloud of death spiraled through the camp.  Many of the creatures were killed, but now there were too many too number, too many to avoid, too many to doubt they were punishment from God.  Zipporah halted, a wall of people preventing her from going any farther.  Raising her eyes she could just see the top of Moses' tent.  Voices mixed with anger and sorrow filled the air, their meanings drowned out by the number of them.  Ignoring her own fear, growing in the pit of her stomach, she pushed onward determined to get to that tent but with every step forward she was pushed back two.  Panic began to rise , as the crowd surged, overwhelming her and pushing her back farther still, until she lost her footing and fell to her knees.  NO.  God of Moses, help me.  And the wave stopped.  Voices quieted.  Looking up she watched as the wall of people opened up, revealing a clear path to the tent of Moses.  A man strode toward her.  A man she knew but her mind too busy to think of his name.  He reached down, pulling her gently up.

"Joshua," she said, remembering.

"Make way," he spoke with a calmness surreal to the moment.  "Make way for the wife of Moses."

In Numbers 21 we find an account of the Israelites once again complaining that God delivered them from Egypt.  They felt their plight in the desert was worse than the slavery they had endured, already taking for granted the freedom given them.  And forgetting the sovereignty of God.  God, in his right, sent fiery serpents among the Israelites, and it is recorded that after bitten many died.  Now whether or not the serpents just bit the unbelievers it doesn't say, and I'm inclined to think the serpents did not take time to determine the innocence of their prey. Most likely the serpents were a natural inhabitant of the desert that God used to perform His will, not some supernatural demon serpents cast down from the heavens, although He of course could cause that to happen as well.  Therefore, just like with so many things today, the serpents bit the unjust and the just.  I can't imagine living in the wilderness, I can't imagine feeling so hungry and lost I would rather be a slave, I can't imagine experiencing any of the things the Israelites faced.  Like many of us are or have been, including myself, many  were stubborn and rebellious and doubted God.  There doubt, and actions, created consequences to everyone around them.  Just like our actions, whether we want them to or not, affect those around us not just we ourselves.  At any rate, where am I going with this?  Well, read on.

Zipporah made her way into the tent, Joshua standing guard at his usual post outside.  Darkness enveloped her and for a moment she groped trying to find her way.  Moans, pitiful and quiet, made their way to her ears and guided her to a form prostrate on the ground. 

"Oh, Moses."  She whispered dropping to her knees beside him, the weight he felt pressing her down as well.

"God, my God.  Why hast though forsaken thy people?  I know they are stiff necked, I know they don't deserve your mercy.  But, I cry out in their place, I cry out for mercy."  Moses sobs wracked his body, his words barely audible.

Stroking his hair, Zipporah cried.  Hot tears she had not felt in many, many years.  Tears of anguish as the one she cherished suffered for a people who did not seem to care.  Tears of bitterness as she realized his love for that people took precedence over his love for anyone else, including his family, including her.  Only his love for His God triumphed over the passion he felt for the Israelites.  A passion that drove him from his home, from his children, from her arms.  A passion that had cost him his youth, his health, his happiness.  Oh!  How undeserving these Israelites.  She cried over him a while but the reason for her coming had not been to see Moses, or to weep and pray with him.  She was much more selfish than that and God had not given her the passion to love the Israelites more than her own family.

"Moses," she spoke.  "I need your help, you must come quickly."

Moses looked up, his tears continuously flowing as if permanent rivers into his beard.  Once youthful and bright, his eyes looked dully out at her, understanding of time and place nonexistent, instead holding a look of a place far from reality.  "O God, my God,"  he began to pray again.

"Moses, look at me, hear me.  Listen to me."  Zipporah clasped his face with her hands, willing him to look at her with his vacant eyes. 

"How can I when my people are perishing with every moment.  What cause can be greater than this?"  he questioned, once again placing the needs of the Israelites before her. 

"Not people, Moses,"  she repeated calmly, long ago learning it would do no good to respond with the anger she felt.  "Your son, your grandson.  Gershom, your first born, Eliezer his first born.  They have been infected, just this morning.  Moses they will die like all the others.  You must come and pray over them, God will hear you, he will listen to your voice."  She could not stop the pleading that crept into her tone, or the sob that wrenched from her throat at the names of her precious son and grandson.

"Do you think their plight worse than those around them?  All the encampment has been flooded with the consequence of their murmurings against God.  Are they any different than those I pray over now?" His grief poured out of him, a well unleashed.

"Moses, Moses.  You won't even go to them.  You won't even entreat God specifically for your own son?"  Her disbelief rang in her own ears, as well as defeat in the knowledge that nothing she could say would sway him.  With a final sob, she rose to her feet, stumbling through the darkness to find her way out.  Moses' prayers for Israel continuing behind her.  She didn't care about Israel, she didn't care about these stupid people who wanted to return to their land of bondage, she didn't care about this nation who had robbed her of a husband, all that mattered to her, all that was left to her of her life with Moses was her sons, and the children born to them.  Children she poured all of herself into, children she lived for, children she would die for.  She felt overwhelmed by that flood of consequences, the flood of consequences these stubborn people never seemed to learn from.  She would go to them.  She would fight for their lives with everything in her, but even as she fought her way back to their beds she knew nothing except the God of Moses could save her children.  Her fear was, what it had always been, that only Moses could reach that God.

Have you ever been there?  Where Zipporah was, overwhelmed and afraid that your prayers aren't heard by God. Angry at circumstances out of your control, and powerless to change them.  Working with all of your might to fix a problem, that deep down you realize is much bigger than you are.  I have.  I have felt so overwhelmed in floods of circumstances that I thought I would drown, when all I could do was fight to keep my head above water.  Alone, even though I wasn't, my prayers seemed as empty shells returning void.  In a message recently given at our church (last night to be exact),  God reminded me again that there are some battles we simply can't fight.  Some battles that are simply WAY bigger than we are.  It's not a new message, it's one I have heard before, as I am sure many of you have as well.  But this time it struck a chord, one deep down in my heart. 

When we attempt to fix problems and fight battles way bigger than we are, well that's when things really get tough.  That's when perhaps we make the battle a little harder to handle.  Isaiah 59:19 states, When the enemy shall come in like a flood, the Spirit of the Lord shall lift up a standard against him.  Last night I learned a new concept of what that standard is.  A standard is a military term.  A signal, or a symbol, or a call to a specific  part of the army to act.  In battle when it was time for the archers, the standard for archery was given indicating for them to step forward and shoot their arrows.  When time for the Calvary to charge, the standard for the Calvary was raised so that all knew it was time to go into battle.  A standard held great importance.  It kept everything organized.  It is what won battles.  If the components of the army simply acted whenever they wanted crucial elements of time in a battle were missed and would cost them the victory.  Spiritually speaking, God is our commander in chief.  He can see the battle above where we are.  When it appears that the enemy is overtaking us he raises up a spiritual standard to fight the battle raging in our life.  The key is He knows which standard to call in.  He knows how to fight this battle and so often we charge in before he has lifted the standard to give us the wisdom or knowledge we need to face the situation.  Or the ability to sit still, while he does the work. I admit this is hardest for me.  Someone once referred to me as a "Martha", it both complimented and checked me as I do want to work hard for the Lord, but I don't want to be working so hard that I don't take the time to remember what this is all about.  That I don't take the time to sit at his feet and give him the adoration he is due.  That I don't step in and try to do God's job and fix problems way out of my league.

That's where we find Zipporah.  Did this actually happen.  Maybe...maybe not.  But the Israelites did face this and it is certain that many felt just as we would today.  Overwhelmed, alone, and afraid, just as I am portraying Zipporah.

Two days had past.  Two agonizing days.  Zipporah used all of her skill to fight the venom even now robbing the life from her son and grandson.  Every herbal remedy, every concoction taught her, she used.  She had prayed too.  She had prayed feverishly while she worked, that God would grant her the lives of these two.  Hadn't she sacrificed enough in his name?  Hadn't she sacrificed her husband to his will?  Oh yes, she had prayed.  Sometimes in anger, sometimes in frustration, sometimes without thought. It didn't seem to matter, her prayers didn't seem to be heard anyway, and her children were dying in front of her eyes. 

"God, Oh God," she cried out her small grandson's breaths became shallow.  Broken at last.  Her work spent, she had nothing left to try.  "God, I can't do it.  I can't fight this.  I am not able.  I need you, they need you.  You, oh God who can part a sea, who can send food from heaven, who have written your word on tablets of stone.  Hear this mother, if they can't be saved let me die also, for I can't bear it."   Her words came, but still she worked.  Laying a had to Gershom's head she knew the fever was rising to dangerous heights.  She removed his poultice and place another in it's place, willing him to breathe.  As she turned to replace the cloth made hot with his fever, she jumped startled at the sight of Moses.  So busy she had been, she hadn't heard him enter the room.

"Sit still Zipporah.  This is a battle for the Lord."  Moses commanded, without looking at her.  He strode to Gershom's bedside, holding a staff topped with a brazen serpent, it's ruby eyes flashed red as it's living counterpart. 

"Gershom,"  Moses spoke softly, lifting up the head of his grown child.  "Gershom, behold the serpent.  God has raised up a standard for us, he has heard our prayers, his standard brings life." 

Gershom's eyes, glazed with fever, opened to the voice of his father.  His eyes fell upon the brass serpent, and instantly the fever left him.  "Father," he rasped, his voice weak only from the dehydration his body had suffered.  "Father, I have been in a nightmare.  In the darkness were there was only fire."  Gershom's face held his fear. 

"Fear no longer, my son, the battle is over.  The fire is quenched, the standard of the Lord has been raised."  Moses spoke, for a moment holding his son close, as he did when he was a child.   Quickly they brought the staff to Eliezer and Gershom spoke the same words to his son.  The child opened his eyes and sat up quickly, his mischievous nature returning to his smile as if it had never left. 

"Savta," he cried out to his grandmother, Zipporah.

Zipporah, standing the entire time in the shadows had no words.  She rushed to her grandson, gathering him in her arms, smelling the sweet scent of his hair upon her cheek, the scent of death completely gone from him.  She turned as Moses made ready to leave. 

"I have to go." He spoke with the same certainty when God had called him back to Egypt, and forever changed the course of their lives. 

He touched her hand briefly, the first contact in more years than she could remember.  His look holding the love she thought forgotten through the years.  It held no promise, no indication that things would change.  He was a prophet of God, his work transcended his earthly life.  He was not meant to be an ordinary man, purposed only to provide for his family.  He served God above all else.  And she was his wife.  God called her to that, knowing her to be strong enough to bear the sacrifice. 

As he left she realized he came to their home first.  God instructed him to save his family first.  Her heart burst with the love of God as in that moment He promised her Moses would return when his work was done.  Not on this day, or the next, but when his calling in this life was complete, his work finished, God would bring them back together for a moment of peace.

Although the Israelites were cursed by God as a consequence to their murmurings, God still raised up a standard for them as a result of the prayers of Moses(Numbers 21:7).  The Israelites faced a spiritual battle with their doubt and unbelief and only by expressing belief when they viewed the brazen serpent would they find life.  Viewing that brazen serpent sent out a message to the forces at play, announcing we believe, we believe in the One, True God. 

As we look farther into the Word we find in John 3:14 and 15, And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, even so must the Son of man be lifted up:  That whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have eternal life.  Ultimately Jesus is our standard.  He is the standard we raise when the enemy comes in like a flood.  His blood has covered us, through our weakness He is made strong, He will fight our battles.  If you find yourself in the middle of a war, maybe a personal one, or one for a loved one.  Remember sometimes we have to stand still, put on our strength, raise the standard of Jesus and He will fight our battle.

Blessings,
Laura

P.S.  Thank you for allowing me to take poetic justice with very real people, who existed, whose lives we only get a glimpse of when we read the Word, but who all had emotions and fought the same battles we face today.