A vulnerability is defined as a weakness or fascination that opens the strong to attack or the wise to poor decision-making. Let’s take a closer look.
Note: This article is part of a series called Two Roads. Previous articles are always available at http://www.webbweekly.com.
We all have vulnerabilities. When it comes to eating healthy, my biggest vulnerability is the sweet-salty cycle. When I eat something salty, it triggers a craving for sweet, which then triggers a craving for salty, which then triggers a craving for — well, you get the point.
One of my favorite ways to indulge this vulnerability is a bag of potato chips and a two-liter bottle of root beer. So salty, so sweet, so good. And for the record, I ignore the “family size” label on big chip bags. The labels aren’t accurate; all bags of chips, regardless of size, are single serving.
At my age, I can no longer indulge in the sweet and salty cycle whenever I want. If I did, I would gain fifty pounds, my arteries would clog, and my heart would stop. For that reason, I guard my vulnerability by making sure there are no chips and soda in the house. Instead, I snack on sunflower seeds and grapes. They are still salty and sweet but far less addictive and much healthier.
When life is normal, and my stress level is manageable, I’m very good at keeping my vulnerability in check. About the only time I indulge in chips and soda is at church picnics and potlucks.
However, life isn’t always normal, and sometimes my stress level skyrockets. When life goes sideways, my vulnerability intensifies, and I crave sweet and salty like nobody’s business.
I also crave it when life slows down and I have time to unwind and relax. I enjoy camping and getting out from under all of the deadlines and stress. I really crave snacking on chips and soda while enjoying a campfire or playing Yahtzee.
You see, we tend to guard our vulnerabilities well when life is normal. But sometimes life isn’t normal. Sometimes, it’s very stressful, and sometimes, it’s very calm. When those things happen, they intensify our vulnerabilities, and guarding them becomes much more difficult.
That’s what happened to Moses. He had a really bad day, and his vulnerability to anger intensified. It got the best of him, and he suffered a fall. His life story can be found in the books of Exodus, Numbers, and Deuteronomy. The record of his no-good-very-bad day is found in Numbers 20. Here’s a quick recap:
Moses was tired. For nearly forty years, he had given leadership to a thankless, grumbling mob as it wandered aimlessly through a God-forsaken wilderness. For the record, it was a leadership job he hadn’t sought — and one he tried his best to turn down. See Exodus 3.
Regardless, nearly four decades had passed — and he was sick and tired of it. He longed for the days of Midian when he was nothing more than a shepherd. Anyone who thinks serving in top-tier leadership is easy and glamorous has never served in top-tier leadership.
Moses often felt alone and frustrated, but today would prove to be worse than most.
He had just finished recording God’s directions regarding cleansing waters. Water had been big in Moses’ life. It was in the water of the Nile that a generation of his fellow Israelite brothers had been drowned — and it was in that same water he was saved by God’s grace through Pharaoh’s daughter. The name Moses means, “I drew him out of the water.”
Moses had much to remember about water as he let his mind drift. While the parting of the Red Sea was high on his list, no water memory was sweeter than the story told to him of how his sister, Miriam, had watched out for him as he floated among the reeds in the Nile. She was also the one who suggested to Pharaoh’s daughter that Moses’ mother be the one to nurse him. Miriam took a great risk in doing so. He enjoyed awakening those precious memories. Read Exodus 2:1-10.
A messenger at the door startled him back to reality. The news: Miriam was dead. It was more than his weary heart could bear. Miriam was his sister, but she was so much more. She was a prophetess, a trusted co-leader, and confidant. He leaned on her more than anyone knew.
The mob was aware of Miriam’s death, but they never bothered to acknowledge it. They offered no grace. They acted as though Moses wasn’t human, that he had no feelings, no need to grieve and mourn. As usual, they complained against him and questioned his motives. It was an old and worn-out refrain, and while the accusations were always painful, this time, they were unbearable.
God told him to speak to a rock, and water would come out. He would have preferred the ground opening up and swallowing the ingrates, but instead, God was again pouring grace on them. Moses couldn’t stand it. He wanted vindication, he wanted them to suffer, and he wanted God to teach the mob a lesson.
Instead, God tasked Moses with giving the ingrates what they wanted. It caused him to snap. Instead of speaking to the rock, he took his staff and struck it in a grand display of fierce anger. The water flowed. Moses probably muttered to himself, “Water. Why is it always water?”
Moses, the baby saved by grace from a watery grave and the leader who parted the Red Sea, had blown it. In a moment, a toxic brew of grief and weariness intensified his vulnerability, and it got the better of him. He fell from grace. The consequence: he died without ever setting foot in the promised land. He later pleaded with God to relent but to no avail. It’s a hard passage to read. See Deuteronomy 3:23-29.
That’s what happens when vulnerabilities intensify. Next week we’ll take a close look at what intensified King David’s vulnerability.
