Beware that thou forget not Jehovah thy God, in not keeping his commandments, and his ordinances, and his statutes, which I command thee this day;
Moses speaks to a people about to leave a desert where God fed them daily. They are entering a land where bread will be plentiful. The second setting is the more dangerous one. So what does forgetting God look like in a life?
Forgetting here is not a mental lapse. The verse defines it by conduct: you forget Him by not keeping His commandments. One writer traces that back to where the heart stands:
"Take care lest you forget the LORD your God by not keeping His commandments." When we are in the presence of God, the conscience keeps His commandments. In His presence they are neither hard nor forgotten. How can we forget the wishes of someone dear to us while we are with that person? Let us remember that apart from communion with God, even His blessings become a snare to pride. We are in the desert, but we are there under the care of a tender Father.
The verse lists commandments, rules and statutes. One writer points out that obedience was Israel's only safeguard, and that God said so before they had entered the land:
Israel was not yet in the land. They are urged not to forget the source of all their blessing when they get there, and told that their only safeguard would lie in obedience to God's commandments, judgments, and statutes.
The danger is not that God's gifts are bad. It is that they can take the place in our hearts that belongs to Him:
Are we not prone to forget the Lord our God, to rest in His gifts instead of Himself? Sadly, we cannot deny it. We rest in the stream instead of going up to the Fountain. God scatters mercies, blessings and benefits along our path in rich abundance. We turn them into an occasion for self-satisfaction and self-congratulation, instead of finding in them the ongoing ground of praise and thanksgiving.
Verse 10 has just spoken of eating and being full. The caution comes right after the plenty:
When blessed with all this abundance, Israel ought to be deeply thankful to the Lord. They were to remember that they depended utterly on His great goodness (v.10). But the danger was there: prospering could make them forget the Lord. Material things might so fill their sight that they would forget God's goodness and God's commandments (v.11).
Nothing outward announces that this drift has begun. The gifts keep coming while the heart moves away:
Israel was not to stop short in the enjoyment of the gifts of God, nor to use them as an occasion to forget God Himself. The Christian must watch too. While enjoying the blessing, he can forget the One who gave it. He can lose sight of his own dependence on God. The heart may depart from God long before God takes His blessings away. We may still enjoy them while far from Him.
Memory is the safeguard. Holding on to what God brought you out of keeps possession from spoiling the possessor:
Possession without a sense of the deliverance that brought us in — such are our poor hearts — only tends to ruin. The richer the possession, the greater the danger. We must keep alive in the soul the sense of how, and from what depths, we have been delivered. The light of the place we have been brought into shines back on what we were brought out of. This makes the grace that did it more precious to us. It also deepens the self-knowledge that humbles us and keeps us humble before God.
Left unchecked, blessing becomes fuel for pride. The cure is not less blessing but a smaller self:
Nothing proves the perversity of our hearts so clearly as this: we take the blessings God so graciously gives us and use them to exalt ourselves. May we heed the warning, knowing that nothing good lives in our flesh. May we always seek to be kept in the place of nothingness. And we shall be, in proportion as Christ is everything to our souls.
- Remember, or drift. Forgetting God is not measured by feelings but by obedience — the verse ties the two together.
- Remember the Giver. The mercies themselves become a snare when we rest in the stream instead of going up to the Fountain.
- Remember in plenty. Abundance, not scarcity, is when the warning comes. Possessions can crowd out God's goodness and His commandments.
- Remember early. The heart can leave God long before the blessings stop. Nothing outward will sound the alarm.
- Remember the rescue. Looking back at the depths God delivered you from makes grace precious and keeps you humble. The richer the possession, the greater the danger.
lest when thou hast eaten and art full, and hast built and inhabited fine houses,
Moses speaks to a people about to enter a land they did not build. He warns them of a danger they had not yet faced: not hunger, but comfort. The wilderness had tested them with need. Canaan would test them with full houses and full stomachs. Why do full hands so often come with a forgetful heart?
The chapter's second half changes the setting. Scarcity had tested Israel. Now the test is success — and one writer applies it straight to us.
The second half of this chapter warns them about the dangers hidden in prosperity. The temptation would come to settle down in the luxury, to forget God's goodness to them, and to be drawn away after false gods. That is what happened in their history, as we know. We as Christians have to remind ourselves of the same thing. For us too, days of outward, earthly prosperity are times of spiritual danger and defeat.
Notice what the verse lists: food, houses, a settled home. Every one of them is a gift from God. The trouble starts with what the heart does with the gift.
Are we not prone to forget the Lord our God, and to rest in His gifts instead of in Himself? Sadly, we cannot deny it. We rest in the stream instead of going up to the Fountain. Mercies, blessings and benefits are scattered richly along our path. We turn them into an occasion for self-satisfaction and self-congratulation, instead of finding in them the blessed ground of constant praise and thanks.
The verse opens with "lest" — a warning about what can creep in. A person can keep every outward blessing while the heart has already moved away. That is why this loss is so hard to spot.
The heart may leave God long before God takes His blessings away. We may still enjoy them while we are far from Him. But suppose we ask ourselves: "Do I enjoy this blessing and that one? But is my heart really in communion with Jesus? Is it in Him that I find my joy? Do I realize my own weakness?" How often the honest soul would answer, "No!" However favourable my outward circumstances may be, if my heart is not in communion with God, I will not be able to meet temptation.
The answer is not to want less. It is to hold on to the memory of the rescue while you enjoy what the rescue gave you.
Possession without this sense — such are our poor hearts — only tends to ruin, and the richer the possession the greater the danger. The soul must keep alive the sense of how, and from what depths, we were delivered. The light of the place we have been brought into shines back on the place we were brought out of. So it makes the grace that did it more precious to us. And it deepens the self-knowledge that humbles us and keeps us humble before God.
This verse is the first step of a slide. One writer follows it through to where it lands.
They would find food plentiful in the land. They would build beautiful houses. Their herds and flocks would multiply, and their silver, gold and other possessions would increase. Then their hearts might be lifted up in such self-satisfaction that they would forget the Lord who had brought them out of the hard slavery of Egypt.
The danger, then, is not the houses. It is the use we make of them — and one writer ends with a prayer.
Nothing proves the perversity of our hearts like this: we take the blessings God so kindly gives us and use them to exalt ourselves. May we heed the warning, knowing that in our flesh there dwells no good thing. And may we always seek to be kept in the place of nothingness — which we will be, in the measure that Christ is everything to our souls.
The same pattern appears again in Revelation. One writer traces it to the church at Laodicea, where a long drift finally ends.
In Laodicea this state of things has completely changed. There is appreciation, room and attention for everything but Christ. This is the end of the road that began in Revelation 2:4, when first love was abandoned. Is this not illustrated in Israel's history, according to the words spoken by Moses? … Remember Agur's prayer in Proverbs 30:9: "lest I be full and deny you and say, 'Who is the Lord?' or lest I be poor and steal and profane the name of my God."
- Fullness tests. The wilderness tested Israel by need. The land would test them by plenty. Days of outward prosperity are days of spiritual danger.
- Gifts crowd out the Giver. The heart rests in the stream instead of going up to the Fountain. Mercies become grounds for self-congratulation.
- Drift comes first. The heart can leave God long before the blessings stop. Comfort is no proof that you are close to Him.
- Memory guards. The richer the possession, the greater the danger. Safety lies in remembering the depths you were brought out of.
- Pride's end. Unchecked, God's gifts become fuel for self-exaltation — the Laodicean fullness that has room for everything but Christ.
and thy herds and thy flocks multiply, and thy silver and thy gold is multiplied, and all that thou hast is multiplied,
Moses is describing a future that has not happened yet. Israel is settled in the land, the herds grow, the silver and gold pile up. The warning is simple: the increase God promised could be the thing that pushes Him out of mind.
These words sit inside a warning, not a promise. Growing flocks and growing money are where the danger starts.
In the later part of this chapter they are warned of the dangers that lie hidden in prosperity. Then would come the temptation to rest in the luxury, forget God's goodness to them, and be drawn away after false gods. So it came to pass in their history, as we know. Again, we as Christians have to remind ourselves of the same thing. For us too, days of outward, earthly prosperity are times of spiritual danger and defeat.
Later in this chapter Moses calls this increase "wealth." A comment on Boaz, the rich landowner in the book of Ruth, shows what that word meant to an Israelite.
Here, in reference to Boaz, "wealth" means what it means in Deuteronomy 8:17-18. There it stands for God-given personal possessions in the land: the fine houses, herds and flocks, silver and gold mentioned in verses 12 and 13. For the godly Israelite, "wealth" was a mark of the blessing of the LORD which "makes rich, and He adds no sorrow with it" (Proverbs 10:22).
Moses lists the increase in stages: food, houses, livestock, silver and gold. Then comes a lifted-up heart, and God drops out of view.
When they found food plentiful in the land, when they built beautiful houses, when their herds and flocks multiplied, their silver and gold and other possessions increased — then their hearts might be lifted up. They might grow so pleased with themselves that they forgot the LORD who had brought them out of the hard bondage of Egypt. Could they forget that God had led them in mercy through the great and terrible wilderness, with its serpents and scorpions? He brought water from the rock for their thirst and fed them with manna.
The same pull works on us. Gifts can take the place of the One who gave them.
Are we not prone to forget the LORD our God, to rest in His gifts instead of Himself? Alas! alas! we cannot deny it. We rest in the stream, instead of getting up to the Fountain. Mercies, blessings and benefits lie scattered along our path in rich profusion. We turn these very gifts into an occasion for self-satisfaction and self-congratulation, instead of finding in them the ground of continual praise and thanksgiving.
One reason this drift is hard to spot: nothing outward changes when it begins. The barns stay full while the heart empties.
Israel was not to stop short in the enjoyment of the gifts of God, nor to take occasion from them to forget God Himself. The Christian must watch too. While enjoying the blessing, he can forget Him who gave it and lose sight of his own dependence upon God. The heart may depart from God long before God withdraws His blessings; and we may still enjoy them when far from Him.
So the safeguard is memory. Remembering what God rescued them from keeps plenty from ruining them.
The principle is this. Deliverance by itself is not enough for joy: we must also hold, consciously and by faith, our heavenly place in Christ. Yet that place can never be safely separated from the deliverance that was needed to bring us into it. Our hearts are so poor that possession without this sense only tends to ruin. The richer the possession, the greater the danger. We must keep alive in the soul the sense of how, and from what depths, God has delivered us.
One writer sees the same story in the church at Laodicea in Revelation: room for everything except Christ.
In Laodicea this condition has totally changed. There is appreciation, room and attention for everything but Christ. This is the end of the course begun in Revelation 2:4, when first love was forsaken. Is this not illustrated in Israel's history, according to the words spoken by Moses? … Remember Agur's prayer in Proverbs 30:9: "lest I be full and deny you and say, 'Who is the LORD?' or lest I be poor and steal and profane the name of my God."
- Given — The herds, flocks, silver and gold are God's gift in the land, a mark of His blessing.
- Multiplied — The increase comes in stages: food, houses, livestock, silver and gold. Then the heart swells.
- Forgotten — The danger is resting in the stream instead of going up to the Fountain. You keep the gifts and lose the Giver.
- Hidden — The heart can drift from God long before He withdraws a single blessing. Full barns prove nothing.
- Remembered — The cure is memory. Keep alive the sense of how deep the pit was. The richer the possession, the greater the danger.
then thy heart be lifted up, and thou forget Jehovah thy God, who brought thee forth out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage;
Moses speaks to a people about to leave the desert for a land of houses, herds and silver. His warning is not about famine but about fullness: a full stomach, then a proud heart, then a forgotten God — the God who broke their slavery in Egypt.
The danger in this chapter is not enemies or hunger. It is success.
The last part of this chapter warns them of the dangers hidden in prosperity. Then would come the temptation to rest in the luxury, to forget God's goodness to them, and to be lured away to false gods. So it happened in their history, as we know. We as Christians must remind ourselves of the same thing. Days of outward, earthly prosperity are times of spiritual danger and defeat for us too.
Moses warns Israel about forgetting God. One writer turns the same question on us.
Are we not prone to forget the Lord our God, to rest in His gifts instead of Himself? Sadly, we cannot deny it. We rest in the stream instead of getting up to the Fountain. Mercies, blessings and benefits lie thick along our path. We turn these very gifts into an occasion for self-satisfaction and self-congratulation, instead of making them our constant ground of praise and thanksgiving.
Nothing outward has to change for this verse to come true. The blessings can still flow while the heart has already moved away.
Israel was not to stop short in the enjoyment of the gifts of God, nor to use them as an occasion to forget God Himself. The Christian must watch too. While enjoying the blessing, he may forget the One who gave it and lose sight of his own dependence on God. The heart may depart from God long before God withdraws His blessings; and we may still enjoy them when far from Him.
A proud heart is not a small fault. It runs on to a claim of self-made success, and it ends in judgment.
Israel was not yet in the land, and they were warned not to forget the source of all their blessing once they were there. Their only safeguard would lie in obedience to God's commandments, judgments and statutes. Otherwise the very wealth of their blessings would lead them to pride of heart, and to forgetting the Lord God their Redeemer. Along with this, they would credit their prosperity to their own power and to the might of their own hand, and so bring themselves under the sure judgment of God. Nothing so proves the perversity of our hearts as this: we take the blessings God so graciously gives and use them to exalt ourselves.
The verse ties God's name to a rescue out of the house of slavery. That memory keeps a person low. The bigger the blessing, the more we need it.
Possession without a sense of the deliverance that brought us in — such are our poor hearts — only tends to ruin. The richer the possession, the greater the danger. We must keep alive in the soul the sense of how, and out of what depths, we have been delivered. The light of the place we have been brought into shines back on what we were brought out of. So it makes the grace that did this more precious to us. At the same time it deepens our knowledge of ourselves, and that humbles us and keeps us humble before God.
The same drift shows up later. One writer sees it in the church at Laodicea, and in a prayer from Proverbs that fears plenty as much as poverty.
In Laodicea things have completely changed. There is appreciation, room and attention for everything except Christ… Doesn't Israel's history show the same thing, in the words Moses spoke? … Remember Agur's prayer in Proverbs 30:9: "lest I be full and deny you and say, 'Who is the LORD?' or lest I be poor and steal and profane the name of my God."
- Fullness. Fullness, not famine, is the danger here. Days of outward prosperity are days of spiritual danger.
- Forgetting. Fullness tempts us to rest in the gift and never reach the Giver — to stay at the stream instead of climbing to the Fountain.
- Drift. The heart can leave God long before the blessings stop, so continued blessing is no proof of nearness to Him.
- Pride. A forgotten God leaves an exalted self. I credit my success to my own power, and that brings judgment.
- Remembering. The cure is to keep the house of slavery in view. Remembering what we were rescued from makes grace precious and keeps us humble.
who led thee through the great and terrible wilderness, [a wilderness of] fiery serpents, and scorpions, and drought, where there is no water; who brought thee forth water out of the rock of flint;
Moses is retracing the road Israel had just travelled, and he picks out the worst stretch of it. Why did God choose that route for a people He had just redeemed, and what were they to do with the memory of it?
The desert was not a detour Israel stumbled into. Commentators put it between two fixed points: redemption behind, the promised land ahead.
This is only the entrance into the wilderness. He does not bring us into the desert until we are out of Egypt... We have trials and exercises there, but it is redemption that brings us into it; our path flows from that... Redemption was at the beginning, Canaan at the latter end; the wilderness comes between the two. Through the wilderness we have God with us, and for us, not holding anything against us, but exercising our hearts.
"Fiery" translates a Hebrew word tied to burning. It is a rare word in the Bible.
Gesenius and Fürst give the word saraph the meanings "to burn" and "to be exalted."... The word occurs only in Numbers 21:6 and Deuteronomy 8:15, translated "fiery," and in Numbers 21:8, Isaiah 14:29 and Isaiah 30:6, translated "fiery serpent."
One writer ties those serpents to the people's murmuring.
The weariness of the journey around Mount Edom frets the people again into murmuring against God. The fiery serpents speak of the power of Satan, which attacks through turning away from God.
The scorpion fits the same landscape. It "inhabits desolate places, hides under stones... and comes out at night" (Morrish Bible Dictionary).
The hardest thing in the desert became the source of drink.
He brought water out of the flint rock. His presence makes the earth that has forgotten Him tremble. But for His people in the desert, His power and grace bring refreshment and life out of what looks to man hopeless and set against them. Dependence and confidence in Him — that is the peaceful path of faith.
Another writer sets the supply beside the need:
Had they been able to get bread in the wilderness, there would have been no need to send bread from heaven. Had they found water, it would not have been necessary to bring water out of the rock. The fullness of divine resource met every need. But the needs of the wilderness do not measure out God's provision; they only bring it about.
The verse does not stop at the terrain. The next line gives God's purpose in the route, and one writer applies it to the trouble believers meet.
God's people hold no free pass, no exemption from trouble in this life. While the wicked are kept in sugar, the godly are often kept in brine. God lets His people be in the house of bondage for testing or trial. "who led you through the great and terrifying wilderness... that He might humble you and test you" (Deut. 8:15-16). Affliction is the test of sincerity.
The danger these writers point to is not hardship but plenty.
Are we not prone to forget the Lord our God, to rest in His gifts instead of Himself? Sadly, we cannot deny it. We rest in the stream instead of going up to the Fountain. Mercies, blessings and benefits lie thick along our path. We turn these very gifts into an occasion of self-satisfaction and congratulation, instead of finding in them the ground of continual praise and thanksgiving.
Another writer sets the danger against its remedy.
Possession without the sense of the deliverance that brought us in — such are our poor hearts — only tends to ruin, and the richer the possession the greater the danger. We must keep alive in the soul the sense of how, and from what depths, we were delivered.
- Led. The desert was not Israel's mistake. It was God's own road between the redemption behind them and the land ahead.
- Threatened. "Fiery" comes from a word meaning to burn. Commentators see in those serpents the power of Satan, striking a people who had turned away.
- Supplied. Water from flint shows grace bringing refreshment out of what looks hopeless. The need brought the supply; it never set its size.
- Proved. No believer holds an exemption from trouble. Affliction tests whether faith is real, and God's aim in the route was to humble His people and test them.
- Remembered. Danger grows with plenty, not with want. Forget the road, and you rest in the gifts instead of the Giver.