Thus the LORD used to speak to Moses face to face, just as a man speaks to his friend When Moses returned to the camp, his servant Joshua, the son of Nun, a young man, would not depart from the tent.
Exodus 33:11
I first read this verse years ago, when I was a sophomore or junior in high school. The idea of what one translation refers to as "staying in the tent" intrigued me, but I didn't have any idea how to embrace it tangibly. I tucked the verse away into a corner of my mind.
I never really came back to it until this summer, when I began to think about where to apply for a job through the fall. Then, through subtle nudging and whispers, God asked me to return to this idea. He presented me with a crazy thought: What if you stayed in the tent? Don't take a job. Spend the time you would be working getting to know Me.
It's been quite a road wrestling emotionally and mentally with the idea. To enter a wild unknown with no sure provision, holding only my faith that God is true to His promise to supply for His children, is a daunting and frankly frightening notion. As the time is upon me now to make a final decision, I find myself again returning in prayer, asking God to reaffirm to me what I am to do.
But a revelation finally came as to why this is so vital. I could so easily postpone this endeavor, say I want to put it off until I am more financially prepared for such a season. But knowing how life pushes forward, very rarely making any allowances for its sojourners to return to an old opportunity, I recognize that it would be very unlikely I would ever approach this undertaking again. I see how easily I could walk away from this and never return, and I see too that I might loosen my grip on my pursuit of God if I do not contend for it now.
I finally saw this idea in a new light. Yes, it's scary to have no money and need to eat. It's scary to have no money and need to put gas in my car. It's scary to have no money for a million different reasons, but if you wrap them all up and hold up the combined fearfulness of all these different elements, it pales in comparison to the terrifying thought of surrendering intimacy with God. To live without pursuit, without relationship, is far more frightening than to live without money.
If you decide for God, living a life of God-worship, it follows that you don't fuss about what's on the table at mealtimes or whether the clothes in your closet are in fashion. There is far more to your life than the food you put in your stomach, more to your outer appearance than the clothes you hang on your body. Look at the birds, free and unfettered, not tied down to a job description, careless in the care of God. And you count far more to him than birds.
Has anyone by fussing in front of the mirror ever gotten taller by so much as an inch? All this time and money wasted on fashion—do you think it makes that much difference? Instead of looking at the fashions, walk out into the fields and look at the wildflowers. They never primp or shop, but have you ever seen color and design quite like it? The ten best-dressed men and women in the country look shabby alongside them.
If God gives such attention to the appearance of wildflowers—most of which are never even seen—don't you think he'll attend to you, take pride in you, do his best for you? What I'm trying to do here is to get you to relax, to not be so preoccupied with getting, so you can respond to God's giving. People who don't know God and the way he works fuss over these things, but you know both God and how he works. Steep your life in God-reality, God-initiative, God-provisions. Don't worry about missing out. You'll find all your everyday human concerns will be met.
Matt. 6:25-33 (The Message)
