Embracing Unexpected Paths

"And it came to pass, when Pharaoh had let the people go, that God led them not through the way of the land of the Philis'tines, although that was near; for God said, Lest peradventure the people repent when they see war, and they return to Egypt: but God led the people about, through the way of the wilderness of the Red sea: and the children of Israel went up harnessed out of the land of Egypt." Exodus 13:17,18

The story of Israel's exodus from Egypt is not just a historical event, but is a sure lesson in spiritual growth and guidance. The route chosen was not the shortest or the easiest, but it was the most beneficial for Israel's spiritual development. This mystical detour illustrates how heaven-appointed learning often comes through the most inconvenient paths, leading to the most desirable outcomes.

Israel could have chosen a path through the land of the Philistines, which was a shorter route to their destination. However, Israel was led to choose the wilderness path. Why? The answer lies in understanding the living God’s purpose for our devotional character. The journey through the wilderness was not about reaching the destination quickly, but was about preparing Israel to inhabit the Promised Land with the right mindset and heart.

When the Israelites left Egypt, they first passed through Sin and pitched in Rephidim (Exodus 17:1), and then moved on to Horeb. From Horeb, it was an eleven-day journey to Kadesh-barnea (Deuteronomy 1:2), where they were to observe the land of Canaan. However, their lack of faith led to a forty-year sojourn in the wilderness. This delay was not due to the distance, but rather due to their refusal to trust and follow their Deity’s guidance and instruction.

The Israelites witnessed that Deity’s power at the Red Sea, where it annihilated the Egyptian army (Exodus 14:31). Yet, this miraculous deliverance did not instill lasting faith. Instead, their fear was superficial and did not translate into trust. They soon complained about their hardships and longed for the comforts of Egypt (Exodus 16:3). This highlights a critical lesson: miracles alone cannot sustain faith; it requires a deeper, personal relationship with the living God’s mind and intention.

The intention was not just to free Israel from physical bondage but to deliver them from spiritual enslavement. The wilderness journey was a time of testing and refinement. Their God used this period to teach Israel to depend on him for their daily needs, symbolized by the manna from heaven (Deuteronomy 8:2-3). This dependence was meant to cultivate a deeper understanding and relationship with him, moving beyond fear to love and trust.

The longer route through the wilderness was mentally and spiritually taxing, designed to humble Israel and teach them to rely on their God’s provision and guidance. This route was more honorable and profitable than the short path through the land of the Philistines, which would have led to immediate conflict and possible return to Egypt out of fear.

The story of Israel's exodus is a timeless lesson for us today. The Bible’s paths may not always be the shortest or the easiest, but they are designed for our ultimate growth and benefit. Our trials and hardships are opportunities to deepen our faith and understanding of the living God’s will. By embracing the long route, we can experience devotional transformation and develop a resilient belief that is not dependent on immediate miracles but sustained by a personal and intelligent relationship with the Bible.

The Bible’s guidance may lead us through unexpected and challenging paths, but these detours are meant to prepare us for the promises it’s character has in store. As we navigate life's wilderness, let us remember that our faith journey is about more than reaching a destination; it's about growing closer to the Bible’s mind, learning to trust its wisdom, and becoming more like its reasonable character in the process. By embracing the long route, we can find peace and purpose, knowing that the living God is with us every step of the way.

The Unyielding Nature of Facts

Facts don't care about feelings. This simple yet profound statement reminds us of the unyielding nature of truth.

Facts remain steadfast, indifferent to our emotions or personal beliefs. It's astonishing how often facts stir emotions rather than calm them. One might assume that facts should bring clarity, reassurance, or even liberation. However, the reality is that the more a fact confronts us, the more it can disturb our emotions. This disturbance is often unsettling, especially when we consider that "the word of God is quick, and powerful, and sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing even to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit, and of the joints and marrow, and is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart" (Hebrews 4:12).

When we allow facts to take their rightful place in our mind, they have the potential to humble us. A mind that rejects a clear fact often reveals a heart stubbornly clinging to an unverified belief. This obstinacy is the hallmark of an "evil" or "wicked" mind, as reflected in the scripture: "Rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft, and stubbornness is as iniquity and idolatry" (1 Samuel 15:23).

To examine our own tendencies toward personal fault or error, we must consider how we handle facts. There is a stark difference between religious fiction and devotional fact. Our ability—or inability—to distinguish between these can reveal much about our state of being. The downfall of a religious confidence lies in its dependence on emotion to give it strength, as Paul writes, "They have a zeal of God, but not according to knowledge" (Romans 10:2). We must choose between a knowledgeable devotional experience and an emotional religious fever.

Often, discussions about faith and belief lead to heated arguments, harsh words, and hurt feelings. This usually happens because people speak from a place of public opinion rather than with personal wisdom from rigorous research. Emotions, rather than facts, often drive our desire to learn, leading to a shallow understanding shaped more by personality than by reality. As a result, we form a strong emotional attachment to our beliefs, which can be shattered when confronted with facts.

Facts exist independently of belief or disbelief. They are not designed to comfort; they simply are. Unlike us, facts do not concern themselves with the knowledge available in the world; they exist beyond and above the limitations of human understanding, including the theological assumptions of the religious world. The author of the book of John cautions us about this, noting that the teachings of the religious world are distinct from the character within the scriptures: "They are of the world: therefore speak they of the world, and the world heareth them" (1 John 4:5).

Understanding why emotional disturbance occurs when we encounter facts requires a recognition of this distinction. Facts, unbound by the theological frameworks of the religious world, can feel alien and challenging to our deeply held beliefs. This challenge can reveal the lack of true knowledge supporting our beliefs, underscoring the truth of Proverbs: "Fools die for lack of wisdom" (Proverbs 10:21), and "My people are destroyed for lack of knowledge" (Hosea 4:6). True belief is both knowledgeable and intelligent; without a living, refreshing knowledge of what we actually believe, we risk falling into the trap of mental and spiritual lethargy and deception.

The conventional approach often involves placing faith in religious authorities without independently verifying the knowledge they present. The Bible warns against this blind trust, highlighting the pitfalls of relying on the religious world's wisdom above acquired insight: "He hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end" (Ecclesiastes 3:11). Today, the message—"I know him, and keep his saying" (John 8:55)—still challenges us to "be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind" (Romans 12:2).

We should embrace the fact that facts do not care about our identity, thoughts, or level of understanding. Their sole purpose is to humble us, pushing us to make sense of our limitations and encouraging us to delve deeper into the Bible for understanding. For too long, we have viewed the Bible through a distorted lens, trusting in theories that do not foster our mental and devotional growth. It's time to heed the call: "Seek ye out of the book of the LORD, and read" (Isaiah 34:16).

By engaging with facts and seeking knowledge directly from the Bible, we can cultivate a faith that is not only emotionally resonant but also intellectually robust, rooted in reality rather than mere tradition.

Discovering The True Character of Our Faith

How can we factually discern that our faith must discover its own character? Our faith, we believe, has found itself. Our faith, we believe, is what is. Our faith is, according to our denominational understanding and our interpretation of that understanding, in possession of an acceptable character. But to whom is that character acceptable when it says, "Create in me a clean heart, O God; and renew a right spirit within me" (Psalm 51:10)?

The psalmist prays a profound prayer. The "me" to be renewed is not the individual themselves, but rather their "heart." This heart to be renewed and cleansed is not the psalmist's physical heart, but the heart of the psalmist's devotional character or conversation. This understanding comes from the verse, "Behold, thou desirest truth in the inward parts: and in the hidden part thou shalt make me to know wisdom" (Psalm 51:6).

According to the scriptures, the heart of our conversation, or the spirit or character of our faith, is to be renewed or cleansed. This call for renewal is not for us personally, but for our devotional conversation. This is why it says, "But as he which hath called you is holy, so be ye holy in all manner of conversation" (1 Peter 1:15).

This represents a significant shift in traditional religious thought. We often believe that we, as individuals, are not pleasing to “God” and need some intercessor to become acceptable. However, the Bible plainly states that it is not we, as human beings, who are detestable to “God,” but it is our religious conversation that needs amendment.

It is not we, personally, that must be "holy," but rather our conversation, or how we inwardly and mentally carry our confidence in the living God. According to the Bible, our religious conversation is naturally erroneous because it is a product of the religious world. This theological and theoretical atmosphere is rejected by the one that once said, "I am not of the world" (John 17:16).

Here, "world" does not refer to the literal natural world. This verse from John is not about an individual's supernatural origin. Instead, "world" refers to the religious world, as understood from how it says: "I spake openly to the world; I ever taught in the synagogue, and in the temple, whither the Jews always resort; and in secret have I said nothing" (John 18:20).

When our religious confidence is born, it is conceived within the religious world according to a particular creed. This creed does not correctly represent the living God's devotional character. We understand this because the scriptures call for the resurrection of our conversation from it, as exemplified in Romans 12:2: "Be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God."

The Bible calls for our conversation to personally understand the character of its faith. The character of our devotional confidence cannot be found within the religious world. Finding our faith's character within the religious world would be akin to denying the principle, "Neither doth corruption inherit incorruption" (1 Corinthians 15:50). Since our faith is conceived in an atmosphere of spiritual and religious corruption, a necessary separation from that environment is demanded. This is why it says, "To him that ordereth his conversation aright will I shew the salvation of God" (Psalm 50:23).

So what does this mean? Does it mean that our conversation should remove its thoughts and feelings from its accustomed experience? Does it mean our faith should experience itself without a pastor, “expert,” or guru? Absolutely, and this has already been foretold: "I will bring the blind by a way that they knew not; I will lead them in paths that they have not known: I will make darkness light before them, and crooked things straight. These things will I do unto them, and not forsake them" (Isaiah 42:16).

We are "blind," not literally, but our conversation is misguided. However, there is a cure. Our conversation, by consenting to experience itself only with the scriptures, may abandon the rebuke: "Thou sayest, I am rich, and increased with goods, and have need of nothing; and knowest not that thou art wretched, and miserable, and poor, and blind, and naked" (Revelation 3:17).

The Bible's primary concern is the condition of our conversation's thoughts and feelings. Its sole intention is the wellbeing of our faith's inward person. Will we allow the Bible's concern to become our own? Will we discover if this concern is true and sincere? Our faith and its conversation need to become aware of their condition. If the Bible expresses displeasure with our natural devotional character, we must exercise humility as we discover our confidence's reason for existing.

Embrace the journey of understanding your faith. Reflect on your devotional character and seek its renewal through the Bible. The true character of your faith lies not in traditional religious constructs but in a sincere, personal relationship with the words reflecting the mind of the living God.