adapted from Numbers 21:1-8 by Brenda S. Cox

“We really wiped out those Canaanites at Arad, didn’t we, Father?” Michael announced as his family ate dinner. “Nothing’s left of their towns at all!”

The family of four sat on the dirt floor of their goatskin tent. Michael’s younger sister, Deborah, sat next to him, her brown eyes shining as she listened to the stories of her brother’s first battle.

“Yes, Michael, with God’s help,” their father replied, reaching for another golden manna cake.

“Why can’t we invade Canaan now?” Michael asked. “Why did we have to turn back to this hot desert? I’m ready to fight!” Sitting tall, he proudly straightened his tunic.

“Moses leads us as God commands, my son.”

“Oh, Moses,” Michael said. “What has he given us? Years in the wilderness with the same old food.”

“Yeah,” Deborah agreed, brushing crumbs from her gown. “We have the same old manna porridge every day for breakfast. And the same old manna cakes for lunch and supper—day in and day out. Half the time, there’s not even any water to drink!”

“It’s so boring in the desert,” Michael added. “We want good food and land. And we’re ready to fight for it.”

Their father put down his manna cake. “When I was a boy your age, scouts told us there were giants in Canaan. We were so terrified that we complained to Moses and told him we wouldn’t go. God was angry. He said we must spend forty years in the wilderness. When we heard that, we were sorry about our complaining and went to Canaan to fight. But we were defeated miserably. God was not with us.”

“Well, if God was so great, He’d give us something decent to eat,” Michael complained.

“What we eat isn’t important,” Michael’s mother said. “It’s God’s presence that counts. We would have starved long ago without the manna and quail. God gave us clothes, too—like this purple Egyptian dress that belonged to my mother. It hasn’t worn out in thirty-nine years. So we mustn’t complain about the Lord’s mercy.”

“If this is mercy, I can do without it,” Michael said in disgust. He stormed out of the tent.

Deborah got up to follow him, but her father stopped her. “Eat your dinner,” he said firmly.

Deborah started to protest, but a scream from outside the tent interrupted her words.

Michael was lying in the dirt outside the tent. “A snake,” he managed to say. “It felt as if my foot was on a cooking fire.”

“Will he die?” Deborah asked turning to her parents.

Her father stood silently for a moment. Screams from other parts of the camp punctuated the silence. “It is the judgement of God,” he finally said. “I must meet with the elders.”

“But what about Michael?” Deborah asked.

“We must tend to him and pray,” her mother answered.

“Why me?” Michael moaned. “I should never have complained. I’ll eat manna for the rest of my life—if I have much of it left.” Finally he drifted into a restless sleep. His mother sat praying softly over him.

Deborah slipped quietly out of the tent. Nervously, she listened for the rustling sound of vipers as she crossed the great camp, carefully avoiding rocks and shadows that might hide the snakes. Groans came from many of the tents. She hurried past, trying not to hear the terrible sounds.

Deborah found Moses alone in his tent. She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. “Please,” she pleaded, “can you save my brother? He is sorry that he complained. Will you ask God to forgive him?”

She bowed her head. “I have sinned, too,” she said. “I should have been thankful for what I have instead of complaining about everything.”

“It is a terrible thing to reject God’s mercy,” Moses said softly. “I did it myself—once. Now I will never enter the Promised Land.” He patted her hand. “God has forgiven you—and all the people—for their complaining. He has shown me the way to help.”

He fastened a bronze snake to a long pole. “The symbol of suffering will become the symbol of mercy,” Moses said. “Whoever looks at this serpent will be healed. Bring your brother quickly.”

“Thank you, sir,” Deborah shouted as she rushed from the tent.

When she arrived at her family’s tent, her mother sat sobbing over Michael.

“Is he alive?” Deborah asked.

“Barely,” her mother answered.

“We must take him to Moses. Hurry, Mother! Michael will be healed!”

They wrapped him in robes and rushed across the camp. They laid him beneath the bronze snake.

“Michael,” whispered Deborah, “God will forgive you. Just look up.”

“I’m tired,” Michael moaned, his eyes still shut.

“Michael,” she said firmly, “look at the snake!”

“Snake!” Michael yelled, his eyes opening wide. He focused on the bronze serpent above him. “God, forgive me!” he said. His eyes closed again.

“Michael?” Deborah said.

Michael’s face slowly relaxed into a smile. “I am healed,” he said. “Praise be to God! I’ll never question His mercy again!”

	Q: Why did the basketball player put his cookie in the milk? A: Because he loved to dunk. Jacob P., 5, Michigan Clubhouse Jr. Click here to subscribe