Do You Trust Me?

A Familiar Scene

In every action film or superhero movie there is always an underlying message of faith and trust. I’ve seen the scenario repeatedly: a superhero and a damsel in distress fleeing the pursuit of murderous villains and their entourage. They’re running through traffic, jumping from buildings, or driving at breakneck speed, and then it happens. The hero turns, eyes wide with urgency, and asks the question: “Do you trust me?”

It’s a question that is hard to answer, especially if you’ve just met your rescuer and you’re overlooking a precipice thousands of feet in the air. If you answer yes, you venture headfirst into a journey of the unknown with a hero you just met, promising a safe landing. The alternative? Eventually returning to your captors, ridding yourself of the fear and discomfort of the unknown, and forfeiting the bridge of trust with one who promises safety. Even if you know your capture would be the end of you, that’s just the point: at least you know.
Although life is not a movie, the question “Do you trust me?” arises in life again and again for the believer. I’m reminded through the lives of the children of Israel that choosing to follow God in discomfort and uncertainty is an act of faith, or rather, a reflection of our trust in Him.

The Legacy of Egypt: A People Displaced

The story of the Israelites reveals the tension between trust and fear of the unknown. For a people who were enslaved for roughly 400 years in Egypt, it seems reasonable to conclude that with each passing generation, more and more absorbed an Egyptian way of life, mentality, and worldview. It’s no different than the story of the modern immigrant: moving from another country and their descendants growing up in a land different from the place of their birth. If the connection to the homeland is not maintained, your descendants take on the identity of the land in which they dwell. I hesitate to say it, but in many ways the children of Israel were pretty much Egyptians. Not by blood or societal privileges, but through context and mindset. 

We also know that as a result of the mixed multitude, a bit of Egyptian influence continued to remain after their escape from Egypt. For the Hebrews this absorption of Egyptian culture excluded the worship of Yahweh, which proved time and time again to be the ultimate challenge in their journey through the wilderness. After 400 years of being enslaved as a people, however, it is easy to forget your roots when all you’ve known is the way of the oppressor. 

In the children of Israel’s unintentional adoption of an Egyptian outlook on life, specifically spirituality, they based their worship of deity on things they could see. This idea shows up several times throughout their story, but especially in the moment in which Moses delays coming down from the mountain when speaking with God. “When the people saw that Moses delayed to come down from the mountain, the people gathered themselves together to Aaron and said to him, ‘Up, make us gods who shall go before us. As for this Moses, the man who brought us up out of the land of Egypt, we do not know what has become of him’ ” (Ex. 32:1, ESV).

In the eyes of the people it is clear that although God was their ultimate deliverer, they gave the credit first to Moses and then to the idols they crafted with Aaron. They saw Moses parting the Red Sea, they saw him walk toward the thunder and lightning on Mount Sinai and talk with some unseen power. Even though God was always there, even with demonstrations of miracle after miracle, their eyes were tuned to see humans as gods and to see statues they crafted with their hands as divine beings. They saw what Egypt had trained them to see, not the invisible God fully making Himself fully visible. So when Moses delayed coming down from the mount, that proved catastrophic, because there was no god in front of them to hold them accountable to their new commitment to Yahweh. 

We’ve cultivated experiences of faith out of tradition, habit, and following the lead of those guiding us. But if left alone, are we convinced to journey the same path? Or like the children of Israel, do we revert to a space of comfortable depravity?

It’s easy to look at their behavior critically and call them foolish, sinful, and blind. Yet it’s obvious that even today we struggle to maintain our spiritual values without someone present in our space to enforce them. I think about my childhood and how difficult it must have been for my mother to get us children to a point where we not only maintained a clean home in her absence but desired to do so whether she was present or not. The same applies in relation to our journey with God. We’ve cultivated experiences of faith out of tradition, habit, and following the lead of those guiding us. But if left alone, are we convinced to journey the same path? Or, like the children of Israel, do we revert to a space of comfortable depravity? 

Choosing Trust

God mentions this exact idea when He tells Moses, “They have turned aside quickly out of the way that I commanded them” (Ex. 32:8), and “You know the people, that they are set on evil”. (verse 22). After making a commitment to God in Exodus 19:8 (“All that the Lord has spoken we will do”), the children of Israel revert back to their default programming—the way of Egypt. Their behavior demonstrates the reality that often the comfort of familiarity, regardless of how shameful it is, keeps us from adopting something new. They were following new rules, but they were not different people. It seems like part of the dilemma in the journey of the Israelites was not only their view of God but the need to be made new. Their hearts were still wired for Egypt, still wired in opposition to God. Questions that I try to ask myself regularly are “Why do I do the things that I do?” and “Why do I crave the things that I crave?” If I’m honest, I find that my heart is less in harmony with the values of the God I claim to follow. 

In moments like these the element of choice comes into play. “Who is on the Lord’s side?” (see Ex. 32:26). Here it is, the question at the crossroads. The decision is quite layered. The Israelites had to consider what they knew of God, the way in which He was leading them, and if they were OK with that. Though they were liberated, they still needed direction, and sometimes that direction felt like confinement. Or were they more content with the life they’d known before, in which they were oppressed but somewhat comfortable? I think to myself, If it were easy to follow God, wouldn’t more people do it? But I argue again with myself and conclude, It’s not a matter of ease, but rather the matter of a changed heart. Choosing to follow God based on the evidence you have of Him instead of resorting to comfort because of the fear of the unknown is an act of faith. The question can be rephrased in this manner: “Do you trust Me?”

Up until this point in the wilderness, the children of Israel had seen enough of Yahweh’s power to trust in Him—even a little. They had watched water drawn from the Nile turn to blood. They had seen swarms of locusts overrun Egypt, only to fall lifeless at a word. They had witnessed plague after plague dismantle the superstitions of the Egyptians, while their own land of Goshen remained untouched. 

Whoever this powerful God was, He had been both preserving them and fighting for them. What more proof did they need? Perhaps their Egyptian masters ushering them out of the land, loaded down with gold and gifts? Or maybe the entire Egyptian army floating dead in the sea while they crossed safely on dry ground? What about Egypt, the greatest superpower of its day, left in ruins after daring to challenge a God far beyond its reach? God had more than revealed Himself.

Here’s the truth: God never calls us to journey with Him into the unknown without first introducing Himself. Through life’s many lessons and blessings He shows us who He is and proves that He is trustworthy. And we can be certain of this: stepping into the unknown with Him will always become an experience of preservation, protection, and blessing even when we cannot see what lies ahead.

A Prayer for Trust

The golden calf apostasy in the wilderness, as alarming as the descent into degradation is, is a lesson that speaks to the reality of humans glorying in the brokenness that they’re not only wired with but that they’ve come to know well. It’s a lesson about being afraid of the unknown God’s relentless pursuit is to help us see another way and empower us to live a new reality. One that dignifies. One that uplifts. It’s an experience of internal transformation that brings both the desire and conviction to trust God. There were many revelations of God in the wilderness, and with each one in different ways, God asked, “Do you trust Me?” 

God asks me the same question different times in my life, and the choice is up to me. Shall I stay in the security of my own control, even if it kills me? Or venture into the unknown with a God I’m learning to trust? I too must decide if I’m on the Lord’s side.

May God’s promises of preservation, protection, and blessing help me to choose the journey into the unknown.