And the whole assembly lifted up their voice, and cried; and the people wept that night.
A whole nation spent the night in tears, right on the edge of the land God had promised them. Commentators press one question on the scene: what were they looking at that made them cry?
The weeping was not random. It came from what the ten spies put before the people's eyes — and from what they left out.
Is it any wonder? What else could you expect from a people who had nothing before their eyes but mighty giants, lofty walls, and great cities? What but tears and sighs could come from a congregation who saw themselves as grasshoppers, faced with difficulties too great to overcome? They had no sense of the divine power that could carry them right through it all. … They were occupied with themselves and their difficulties instead of with God and His resources.
Crying can look like sorrow over sin. Here it was not. One writer separates the two, and shows how far their doubt reached.
But they were tears of unbelief, not of sorrow… They had no faith about the glory ahead of them, pictured by the land of Canaan. They had just as little faith about Egypt, which they had left, and about the wilderness they were walking through.
Fear did not stop with the ten men who started it. And it left the people unable to reason.
The discouraging words of the ten spies infected the whole congregation of Israel, as discouragement too often does among God's people. They wept that night, then began with bitter complaints — not just against Moses and Aaron, but directly against the Lord. Why had God not let them die in Egypt or in the wilderness, instead of exposing them to the danger of dying in battle against the Canaanites? How inconsistent their arguments are. If they really wanted to die, why be afraid of their enemies? They also never considered that they might survive and take the land, while their enemies died. But fear is a terrible disease that robs a believer of his proper senses.
Earlier in their journey these same people sang instead of weeping. Set that song beside this night and you see an exact reversal — with one cause behind it.
What a contrast between this and the opening of Exodus 15! There their eyes were only on Jehovah, and so they could sing the song of victory. That song said the nations would hear and be afraid, and that sorrow would take hold of the people of Philistia. Instead, it was Israel that was afraid, and sorrow took hold of them. The sorrow, the trembling and the fear fall on Israel rather than on their enemies. And why? Because the One who filled their vision in Exodus 15 is completely shut out in Numbers 14. This makes all the difference. In the one case faith is on top; in the other, unbelief.
The tears soon harden into an accusation. Earlier failures had blamed Moses; this one blames God — and that turn reaches into ordinary Christian life.
When they first set out and their sin showed itself, bad as it was, they did not blame God. They blamed Moses, the man who brought them up out of the land of Egypt. But the moment this unbelief takes hold of their hearts, the desert becomes painful beyond bearing… See what a wicked state of unbelief they had fallen into, blaming Jehovah Himself for their trials and difficulties. Even Christians can fall into this snare… If Canaan had been on the hearts of the children of Israel, they would have said, Thank God that we have come this far on our way to Canaan.
That night cost them forty years. The reason was not the size of the giants but where they were looking.
But what kept them back? Just that hateful thing which, day after day and hour after hour, robs us of the precious privilege of walking the highest stages of the divine life. And what is that? Unbelief! "So we see that they could not enter in because of unbelief" (Heb. 3:19). This caused Israel to wander in the desert for 40 tedious years. Instead of looking at Jehovah's power to bring them into the land, they looked at the enemy's power to keep them out of it.
- Look — the tears came from what filled their eyes: giants, walls and their own smallness, with God shut out.
- Weep — these were tears of unbelief, not of sorrow over sin; grief can be loud and still be faithless.
- Spread — the discouragement of ten men infected a nation, and fear robbed them of clear thinking.
- Blame — unbelief moved from tears to charging God with their troubles. Christians fall into the same snare when trials come.
- Lose — they watched the enemy's power to keep them out, not God's power to bring them in. So they could not enter.
And all the children of Israel murmured against Moses and against Aaron; and the whole assembly said to them, Would that we had died in the land of Egypt! or in this wilderness would that we had died!
Israel stands at the edge of Canaan, and the report of the ten spies has done its work. The whole nation turns on its leaders and wishes itself dead — and the rest of the chapter shows God answering that wish.
Their weeping sounds like grief. But once Israel judged the enemy too strong, God had already dropped out of their thinking.
All their thoughts were — "God is not." His own people plainly gave in to what is so sadly true of the unbeliever. "They are stronger than we." And where then was God? ... "The congregation lifted up their voice again and cried, and the people wept that night." But they were tears of unbelief, not of sorrow... Their unbelief covered everything: the glory in front of them in the land of Canaan, the Egypt they had left, and the wilderness they were crossing.
The complaint names Moses and Aaron, but the blame reaches past them. Their earlier sins had never gone this far.
When, in the first freshness of their setting out, their sin had shown itself (bad as it was), they did not lay the blame on God... But the moment this unbelief takes hold of their hearts, the desert becomes unbearably painful to them... See what a wretched, wicked state of unbelief they had fallen into. They blamed the Lord Himself for their trials and difficulties. Even Christians can fall into this snare. We know it is the Lord who brought us up out of bondage. So when trials come, our hearts are apt to say, this comes of my being a Christian — the Lord has brought me into these difficulties.
Fear also makes their reasoning collapse on itself.
They wept that night. Then came bitter complaints — not just against Moses and Aaron, but directly against the Lord!... How inconsistent their arguments are. If they really wanted to die, why be afraid of their enemies? They also never considered that they might live and take the land, while their enemies died. But fear is a terrible disease that robs a believer of his proper senses.
The giants were not the real problem. The problem was what filled their eyes.
Are not we, too, like Israel? We are prone to look at the difficulties around us, rather than at that blessed One. He has undertaken to carry us right through them all, and to bring us safely into His own everlasting kingdom. Why are we sometimes cast down? Why do we go mourning? Why do we sound discontented and impatient, instead of singing praise and thanksgiving? Simply because we let circumstances shut God out. We should have God instead as a perfect covering for our eyes and a perfect object for our hearts.
To wish for death in Egypt is to want nothing to do with the land ahead. The same drift catches believers who never doubt the promise at all.
Suppose a friend had given me something as a great treasure, and I was sure it was mine. Yet I looked at it only seldom, and cared to think of it only seldom. This would prove one thing: not that I doubted it was mine, but that I despised it and put no real value on it. This is very often the way we treat the heavenly glory that belongs to us.
Once God is out of view, only two options are left.
In Israel's case God was lost sight of. It was either a calf or a captain; either death in the wilderness, or return into Egypt. Caleb stands in bright contrast to all this. For him there was no death in the wilderness and no return to Egypt. There was an abundant entrance into the promised land, behind the Lord's impenetrable shield.
God's sentence later in the chapter is the people's own wish handed back to them.
God's answer was this: you say you wish you had died in the wilderness — you shall die in the wilderness... God says, you will have to die, only it will take you forty years to do it.
- Unbelief weeps. The night of crying was not repentance. The tears came from unbelief, not from sorrow.
- Unbelief blames. They spoke to Moses and Aaron, but they charged the Lord who had brought them out.
- Unbelief magnifies. Difficulties only look overwhelming when we let them shut God out of sight.
- Unbelief despises. You can stop valuing the promised land without ever doubting that it is yours.
- Unbelief reaps. They asked to die in the wilderness, and God gave them their wish — spread over forty years.
And why is Jehovah bringing us to this land that we may fall by the sword, that our wives and our little ones may become a prey? Is it not better for us to return to Egypt?
At Kadesh the people stand at the border of the promised land, and they answer the spies' report by charging God Himself with leading them out to die. Their remedy — go back to Egypt — raises the question this chapter turns on: what does unbelief do to the way we see God?
Earlier failures in the wilderness blamed Moses. This charge goes higher, and it changes how the desert itself feels to them.
When their sin first showed itself, at the fresh start of their journey, they did not lay the blame on God. They said, "This Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt." But the moment this unbelief takes hold of their hearts, the desert becomes unbearably painful to them... See what a miserable, wicked state of unbelief they had fallen into: they blamed Jehovah Himself for their trials and difficulties. Even Christians face this trap. We know it is the Lord who has brought us up out of slavery. So when trials come, our hearts are apt to say, This comes of my being a Christian — the Lord has brought me into these difficulties. If Canaan had been on the hearts of the children of Israel, they would have said, Thank God that we are this far on our way to Canaan.
Read as an argument, their complaint falls apart. One writer lays out the contradictions in it.
Why did God not let them die in Egypt or in the wilderness, instead of exposing them to the danger of dying in battle against the Canaanites? How inconsistent their arguments are. If they really wanted to die, why be afraid of their enemies? They also never considered that they might survive and take the land, while their enemies died. But fear is a terrible disease that robs a believer of his proper senses.
The verse ends with a wish to turn back, and that wish has a cause.
This is the sure result. The heart that refuses to go on with God goes back to Egypt in its desires.
Set beside the calf at Horeb, the two failures make a pair.
There are two sad forms of unbelief in Israel's history in the wilderness: one at Horeb, the other at Kadesh. At Horeb they made a calf... At Kadesh they proposed to make a captain to lead them back into Egypt. The first is the superstition of unbelief. The second is the wilful independence of unbelief. We need not wonder that those who thought a calf had brought them out of Egypt should look for a captain to lead them back... In Israel's case they lost sight of God. It was either a calf or a captain; either death in the wilderness, or return to Egypt.
They made their wives and children the strongest argument for turning back. Pharaoh had once warned them that evil lay ahead for these little ones; older translations read his words as "evil is before you."
This was terrible. As far as they were able, they were confirming Pharaoh's crafty prediction about these very little ones: "Look, you have some evil purpose in mind." Unbelief always justifies Satan and makes God a liar. Faith always justifies God and proves Satan a liar.
God's reply turned their fear around. The children they feared would be taken were the ones He brought in.
Unbelief had fastened on the little ones, as if it were pointless to expect that children like these could cross the desert safely and enter the land against the enemy. The very people who gave way to such unbelieving doubt of the Lord's care reaped the consequences themselves. The children, who they thought could never survive the horrors of the wilderness, were the only ones brought in, together with the two men who vindicated God and held fast to His word, Caleb and Joshua.
Their choice at the border did not end with that day.
We now come to the decisive point in the history of the wilderness: the people refused to enter the land after coming to its very borders. By this they incur the penalty of forty years of wandering, and the death of the whole generation (except two people) in the wilderness. For them, the whole character of life changes. They are no longer pilgrims but wanderers. They are not aimless, but their only aim is to stay alive for these forty years.
- Unbelief accuses. Earlier complaints blamed Moses. Here the charge lands on God, as if the One who rescued them had led them into danger.
- Unbelief contradicts. Wishing to be dead while dreading death is not reasoning. It is fear, and fear strips a believer of his senses.
- Unbelief retreats. A heart that will not go forward with God already wants Egypt back — a calf to follow out, or a captain to lead it back in.
- Unbelief reaps. God took them at their word. The generation that feared for their children died in the desert, and the children went in.
- Unbelief costs. One refusal at the border turned pilgrims into wanderers. For forty years their only aim was to stay alive.
And they said one to another, Let us make a captain, and let us return to Egypt.
Israel stands at the edge of the land God promised them. After the spies' fearful report, the people plan to appoint a new leader — older translations say "captain" — and march back to Egypt.
Israel had already invented a substitute god at Horeb. Now they want a substitute leader. One man among them wants neither.
There are two sad phases of unbelief shown in Israel's history in the wilderness; one at Horeb, the other at Kadesh. At Horeb they made a calf, and said, "These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt." At Kadesh they proposed to make a captain to lead them back into Egypt. The first of these is the superstition of unbelief; the second, the wilful independence of unbelief. No wonder that people who thought a calf had brought them out of Egypt would look for a captain to lead them back. The poor human mind is tossed like a ball from one to the other of these terrible evils. There is no resource except what faith finds in the living God. Israel had lost sight of God. It was either a calf or a captain; either death in the wilderness or a return to Egypt. Caleb stands in bright contrast with all this. For him it was neither death in the wilderness nor a return to Egypt, but a full entrance into the promised land, behind the unbreakable shield of the LORD.
Replacing Moses was not just a change of leadership. It struck at the One who had appointed him.
In Exodus 32:4, we read of the making of the calf, which they imagined had brought them up out of Egypt. Now they wish to make a captain to take them back. Both these evils are brought together very strikingly in Nehemiah 9:17-18, but there the order of them is reversed. It looks as if the provocation in this later case was as great as in the former. To reject a servant whom God has appointed as captain is the same as rejecting God Himself, though rejecting Him by making a golden calf was a cruder act.
Why a captain at all? Both the calf and the captain answer the same appetite — for a support you can see and lean on instead of God.
When you think about it, what a terrible revelation of the heart of man is in that scene at Mount Sinai. Then they said, "Make us gods;" and later they say, "Let us make a captain" (Num. 14:4). In all our hearts is the tendency to look for someone we can lean on, someone who can lead and guide us. That is, a person who will take us off the ground of simple faith in God.
Their plan was not only wrong, it was unworkable. Nobody had asked whether Egypt still wanted them.
Israel's discouragement from unbelief went so deep that they even urged the people to appoint another leader instead of Moses and go back to Egypt. Having left an ungodly world, can believers return to it and be welcome? By this time Egypt would have grown used to Israel being gone, and would not be likely to take them back. But unbelief cannot reason straight.
There is no neutral standing still at Kadesh. Refusing to advance is itself a decision about where you are heading.
The result was judgment; and no wonder. For they say, "Let us make a captain, and let us return to Egypt." This is the sure outcome. The heart that refuses to go on with God goes back to Egypt in its desires.
They had wished aloud that they had died in the wilderness. God's reply granted the wish they never meant.
Let us go back, they say. Oh, could you imagine it after all the grace shown to them? But, friends, we know what our own hearts are. Have we never wished to turn back?... God's answer was this: You say you wish you had died in the wilderness — you shall die in the wilderness... Says God, You will have to die, only it will take you forty years to do it.
Generations later, Israel confessed this episode in prayer. Their confession named what lay under the words.
In this long prayer of confession they reviewed the history of their nation. Twice they admitted one of the great root causes of their sin: their forefathers had "dealt proudly" (verses 16 and 29). Out of this spirit of pride... came the self-assertion and disobedience that marked their whole history. In their early days it came to a head when they "appointed a captain to return to their bondage" (verse 17).
- Root — Pride came first. Centuries later Israel confessed it: pride produced the self-assertion behind the plan for a captain.
- Craving — Under the pride sits the appetite for something visible to lean on. It had already produced a calf; now it demands a captain.
- Rejection — Setting aside the leader God appointed is setting aside God Himself. It is subtler than the golden calf, not smaller.
- Direction — There is no standing still. A heart that refuses to go on with God goes back to Egypt in its desires — and never asks whether Egypt would take it back.
- Result — God gave them the wish they had shouted in self-pity. They died in the wilderness, and it took forty years — while faith, in Caleb, entered the land.