Walking the Negev and Arabah deserts reminded me that this was not my neighborhood, but theirs–and I was living in it. I was not only witness, but witnessed.
I was tempted to complain about the sweltering heat of the day or freezing my ass off at night in my tent. Shivering with cold or because the wolves or coyotes were wandering through our campground at 2 am, dragging away boots left in front of tents.
I’m a practiced complainer. Weather, critters, food. And that food can be the vegetarian diet I was given, or spirit food; either way I’m left with the thought: how much do I, like Israel in this same wilderness, grumble about my manna? Am I not learning from their mistakes? Do I also complain about what food’s on my table? Do I miss the “free leeks, onions, and melons in Egypt”?
Israel forgot to remember that in Egypt the food was free because they weren’t.
