Tunnel Vision: Focusing on Second Best

I begged my parents for a phone when I was a kid, just like my children beg me for a phone now. The main difference here is that the phone I begged for was one you hung on a wall and had a receiver you could lift, a cord that tethered the receiver to the base, and push-buttons in a circle. My kids want a phone with a data plan. 

As my birthday approached, I saw a phone in the store that I reallyreallyreally wanted. It was one of those old-timey phones in appearance -- the kind where you could jiggle the receiver cradle and said: "Operator? Operator?" Of course, no operator would answer; I didn't grow up in the 1920's. The phone I had my eye on was a cutting-edge phone wrapped in old-fashioned trappings, and I wanted it badly. I begged my parents for it. It was the only thing I put on my birthday list that year.

Days and weeks passed, and I dreamed about that phone. We returned to the store now and then, and I'd always go by the shelf and look at it. It was just so cool.

Finally, my birthday arrived. We sat down to the dinner my mom had made, and on the table was a present -- obviously, the phone I had anticipated for weeks. Present-unwrapping always happened after the meal, so even though it was delicious (Mom always made what the birthday person requested), I gulped down the food so I could see my new phone.

And then, I unwrapped the package.

I still squirm over my reaction, years and years later. When the paper fell away, there was my phone, but it wasn't the phone I'd asked for. It was beautiful -- sleek, shiny. It doubled as an alarm clock, radio, cassette player (y'all remember tapes?), and had all the bells and whistles. 

I squirm now, because I let my parents see my disappointment. Instead of thanking them nicely as I should have done, I actually cried, because the present didn't look like I had hoped and expected. Though it was a beautiful gift, far nicer than the one I had requested, it didn't look like what I thought it should look like, and I... (gulp)... complained.

Now my parents told me when I opened it that they knew it wasn't what I had asked for, and that if I decided I didn't want it as badly as the old-fashioned phone, they'd be willing to take it back and exchange it. But my parents had seen this phone and thought it was a really nice one, and so they thought maybe I would like it.

And that's why I felt horrible after I'd showed my disappointment.

It wasn't because of the phone itself -- my parents had made it very clear that it wasn't a big deal if I didn't like it that much. It was because their beautiful idea, the intent behind their gift -- their wish to bless me with the best possible thing -- was rejected.

Why? Because I had in my own mind such a settled picture of what I wanted, that I couldn't see any way around that. I couldn't see beyond the scope of my own limited vision to consider the possibility of something greater.

In Exodus 15, the Israelites are on the other side of the Red Sea. The Lord has just handed them a victory over the Egyptian nation on a platter. But before that happens, when the Israelites are on the Egyptian side of the Red Sea and trapped between Pharaoh's approaching army and the water, they face their first crisis since leaving Egypt:

"Was it because there were no graves in Egypt that you brought us to the desert to die? What have you done to us by bringing us out of Egypt? Didn't we say to you in Egypt, 'Leave us alone; let us serve the Egyptians'? It would have been better for us to serve the Egyptians than to die in the desert" (Exodus 14:11-12).

Have you ever noticed how panic can bring out the worst in people? The Israelites, after cruel oppression, are grumbling over their newfound freedom. Sure, they're scared. I would have been, too. Maybe they're saying things they don't mean. But this is a trend that, once set, doesn't leave them. The Israelites become complainers.

Moses answers the people: "Do not be afraid. Stand firm and you will see the deliverance the Lord will bring you today. The Egyptians you see today you will never see again. The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still" (Exodus 14:13-14).

Now they're standing on the other side of the sea with only the wind blowing watery spray across its surface and no sign of the great enemy host. The Israelites haven't lifted a finger. True to His word, the Lord has fought the battle for His people, and the entire Egyptian army has disappeared beneath the churning waters of the Red Sea. 

The people break out into a praise and worship service right there on the shore. "I will sing to the Lord, for He is highly exalted. The horse and its rider He has hurled into the sea. The Lord is my strength and my song; He has become my salvation. He is my God, and I will praise Him, my father's God, and I will exalt Him" (Exodus 15:1-2).

Moses' sister Miriam gets out her tambourine and leads the ladies' song and dance routine while they repeat the refrain: "Sing to the Lord, for He is highly exalted. The horse and its rider He has hurled into the sea" (Exodus 15:21).

The Israelites have gone from crisis mismanagement to a conga line dance-off. The Lord has fought for us! We needed only to be still!

The people pack up their celebrations, turn their backs on the great victory over their oppressors, and travel into the desert. Three days later, the hot sun and dry sand have done their work. The Israelites are thirsty, and they haven't found a water source. Their throats are dry, and they're getting grumpier and grumpier.

Finally, they stumble over some water at a place called Marah (which means "bitter"). Guess what? The water is bitter. 

The Israelites, a.k.a. the Complainers, throw a hissy fit. "So the people grumbled against Moses, saying, 'What are we to drink?'"

Their shiny picture-perfect travel destination isn't turning out according to what they had hoped. Their accommodations are lacking, and their tour guide is going to get an earful. "Bitter water? Where's our Evian?! We did not sign up for this!"

See what Moses does? When the Israelites complained, he could have snapped back. He could have lost his temper (he does later; that's another story). Instead: "Then Moses cried out to the Lord, and the Lord showed him a piece of wood. [Moses] threw it into the water, and the water became sweet" (Exodus 15:25).

If the people have forgotten what God did for them three days earlier, Moses hasn't. He remembers the God Who helped them and they didn't need to lift a finger. So he returns to the Source.

And God brings salvation again, this time against the enemy of thirst. 

But He has seen the hearts of the people, and He doesn't like their complaining. He "made a decree and a law for them, and there He tested them. He said, 'If you listen carefully to the voice of the Lord your God and do what is right in His eyes, if you pay attention to His commands and keep all His decrees, I will not bring on you any of the diseases I brought on the Egyptians, for I am the Lord, Who heals you" (Exodus 15:25-26).

The apostle Paul, in his letter to the Corinthians, uses this very history to give a warning. He lays out some basic rules for the people of the early church, essentially: Don't worship idols -- like some of the Israelites did. Don't be sexually immoral -- like some of the Israelites did, and 23,000 of them died in one day (ouch). Don't test the Lord -- like some of the Israelites did, and were killed by snakes. And... don't grumble -- like some of the Israelites did, and were killed by the destroying angel (summary of 1 Corinthians 10:7-10).

Paul shoots straight here: "These things happened to them as examples and were written down as warnings for us, on whom the fulfillment of the ages has come. So if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don't fall! No temptation has seized you except what is common to man. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, He will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it" (1 Corinthians 10:11-13).

God has a perfect vision for His people. His plan is far above and beyond what we can imagine: "No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love Him" (1 Corinthians 2:9). He has planned in advance His good and perfect gifts: "For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do" (Ephesians 2:10). And "every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, Who does not change like shifting shadows" (James 1:17).

So when the Israelites ignore God's perfect, preconceived, beautiful plan, and throw it back in His face in the form of complaints -- when they look back at Egypt and whine: "I wanted that, not this..."

Does it make you uncomfortable? It should. Because the Israelites can only see what is right in front of them. They are so focused on their idea of the perfect desert oasis, that they completely forget that they're enroute to the Promised Land, the land flowing with milk and honey.

They've lost sight of their end goal, because they're so focused on the discomforts of the now.

Sound familiar? If this year of Covid has taught me anything, it's that I fall prey to tunnel-vision far too easily. I tend to push everything aside as I strain for my goal: normalcy.

Meanwhile, the Lord is showing me -- right, left, and center -- His much larger, much better plan. He wants to show me my spiritual growth. He wants to show me my strengthened relationships. He wants to show me His gifts He is unveiling in me in spades. He wants to show me a whole host of new things He is doing! "See? I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness, and streams in the wasteland" (Isaiah 43:19)

Back to the phone: I exchanged it. My parents told me I absolutely should not feel bad about it; they knew I had wanted the other kind, and they were glad to accommodate. But I learned a hard lesson through that experience: 

I settled for the lesser, the imperfect, when my parents wanted to give me the greater, the perfect. I settled, because I was so focused on what I thought I wanted. 

And because they loved me so much, my parents willingly and gladly gave me what I'd asked for; they gave me second best, because I'd demanded it, even though it wasn't first best.

Sometimes, God willingly lets us have second best, because we complain about His first best. 

Squirm, squirm. We should be very uncomfortable about that.