A Maundy Thursday Reflection

Ps. 78
15 He split rocks in the wilderness
and gave them drink abundantly as from the deep.
16 He made streams come out of the rock
and caused waters to flow down like rivers.
17 Yet they sinned still more against him,
rebelling against the Most High in the desert.
18 They tested God in their heart
by demanding the food they craved.
19 They spoke against God, saying,
“Can God spread a table in the wilderness?
20 He struck the rock so that water gushed out
and streams overflowed.
Can he also give bread
or provide meat for his people?”
21 Therefore, when the Lord heard, he was full of wrath;
a fire was kindled against Jacob;
his anger rose against Israel,
22 because they did not believe in God
and did not trust his saving power.

You could say that the root of sin is forgetfulness.

God has always spoken to His people in word and deed. From the beginning, He has asked us to trust Him by demonstrating that He is trustworthy. In Eden, He provided for our every need before asking us to abstain from the one tree. In the Exodus, He delivered us from slavery and brought us safely through the sea. He proved his track record before asking us to follow Him in the wilderness.

But we are good at forgetting. We fall prey to the question, “Did God really say….?”, allowing the tempter to twist even our memory of God’s goodness and authority. In the psalm, God’s people sinned not by asking for the food they craved, but by doubting God’s character and competence to provide for their needs. They forgot who He is (good) and what He is like (able).

This is why the Psalms are replete with storytelling: the antidote for our doubt and disbelief is to remember the story of God’s power and provision. When we recall God’s deeds from the past, we are more likely to trust Him for the future. In this way the Psalms teach us to pray. Even Jesus, as he hung on the cross, prayed the psalms. In the darkest, most bewildering moment of his life, Jesus rehearsed the truth of God’s faithfulness.

Sometimes we can’t trust our own senses. We get lost in the fog of grief and confusion (or just the uncomfortable reality of life in a body that gets hungry and tired and cold). But we can remember what has always been true: God is good. He is for us. We can trust Him, even when He’s asking us to walk into the sea. Or to strike a rock. Or to carry a cross.

And when we fail to trust, as we often do, we can remember that He provides anyway. That His ultimate, once-for-all response to our grumbling and disbelief is to feed us with the food we crave but don’t expect Him to give. The psalm goes on:

23 Yet he commanded the skies above
and opened the doors of heaven,
24 and he rained down on them manna to eat
and gave them the grain of heaven.
25 Man ate of the bread of the angels;
he sent them food in abundance.

God’s goodness isn’t dependent on our deserving. That’s the point. That’s why when God became flesh, He washed the feet of the men He knew would betray him. It’s why He offered them the bread and the wine on their last night together. It’s why He still does, every time we hold out our hands to receive it. He sends us Himself in abundance. Our job is to remember that this is true, to get quicker at coming to Him in our hunger and thirst.

One last thing: in this work of remembering, God has also given us each other. He has brought us through the sea together so that we can remind one another of who God is and what He has done. Our collective memory makes us like a living psalm, allowing us to call each other out of forgetful distrust and into expectant faith. This is what we do when we gather on Sundays but it's also how we are called to live together Monday through Saturday. It's not easy, but it's a gift. It reminds us that even our faith is not ours alone to carry-- that sometimes, when the story gets scrambled in our minds and we have trouble believing what is true, the faith of the church can carry us. So even if you can't remember what God is like, remember that you are not alone.