H. Michael Brewer
Crescent Springs Presbyterian
26 March 2006
LIFT UP YOUR EYES
Numbers 21:4-9
John 3:14-21
The third chapter of John’s gospel contains one of the best known verses in the New
Testament, but John 3 also refers back to one of the lesser known stories of the Old Testament.
During the days of the wilderness wanderings, complaining was the favorite pastime of the Israelites.
On one such occasion while the Israelites were complaining about their food, the Lord unleashed
poisonous snakes into the camp. The bite of these snakes was absolutely lethal. People were dying
in great numbers.
True to form, the Israelites turned to Moses. Moses interceded with God, and God provided a
way for the people to be saved. Moses made a serpent out of bronze and placed the bronze serpent
on a tall pole. This did not drive the snakes away, but it did provide a cure. Whenever a person was
bitten they had only to lift their eyes up to the snake on the pole, and they would be saved from certain
death.
As Jesus talked to Nicodemus the Pharisee, Jesus used the story of that snake on a pole as a
way to talk about his own work in the world. “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so I
will be lifted up, so that whoever believes in me may be saved from death.”
In John’s gospel that one vivid phrase about being “lifted up” is a short-hand way to talk about
the whole saving work of Jesus Christ: his being lifted up on the cross, and lifted up from the grave,
and lifted up to heaven. Just as the serpent being lifted up in the wilderness gave life to Israel, so the
lifting up of Jesus gives life to the world.
With the comparison clear, let’s look more closely at the Old Testament story for a few minutes.
Can you imagine what life was like in the Israelite camp after the serpents arrived? A snake might be
lurking in a stack of firewood, under a blanket, in a water jug, or behind the next rock. People must
have been walking around with eyes glued on the ground, constantly watching for snakes. But that
approach didn’t work. In spite of fixing their eyes on the ground they were still getting bitten.
But even though it doesn’t work, don’t we often try the same strategy ourselves? We fix our eyes
on our problems. Our troubles are all we can see. Our hardships are all we can think about. We
become so consumed by our troubles that we actually lose sight of the good things, the joyful things,
the beautiful things that abound in life.
The Israelites were being fed manna each day in the wilderness, miraculous food provided
from heaven. Easily gathered, sweet, and always reliable, yet the Israelites do not raise prayers of
thanksgiving to God. Instead, they say, “Why have you brought us out of Egypt to die in the wilderness?
For there is nothing here to eat or drink but this detestable miserable manna!”
To be sure, life in the wilderness was no picnic for Israel. But their eyes were fixed so
exclusively on their discomforts, that they were blind to the good things among them: the faithfulness
of Moses, their new-found freedom, the land of milk and honey that awaited them. They even despised
the food that came to them from the very hand of their loving God. Focused entirely on what was bad,
the Israelites could not see anything good.
The Old Testament story says that the Israelites became impatient. The Hebrew expression
used there literally says that “their spirits were shortened.” As they moved through the wilderness, the
Israelites became short of spirit, stooped and bent as they focused on their hardships, dwarfed and
twisted by their own preoccupation with misery. They became a wretched people as they trudged
around hunched over, watching for snakes.
The only cure for the Israelites was to lift up their eyes to the snake on the pole, to look up from
their problems, up to the saving power of God. Now I’m not going to pretend that there are quick and
painless cures for every hardship in life. But we limit our possibilities when we can’t see anything but
problems.
I have a friend whose life has been no bed of roses. She suffered through years of sexual
abuse as a child. In an effort to get away from her father she entered a destructive marriage. And then
a freak accident put her in the hospital for six months. When she was released from the hospital the
doctors told her she would never work again and would live the rest of her life with constant pain too
intense to be controlled by medication. She tells about the time she sat with a gun in her hand, trying
to decide whether or not to go on living. A long distance phone call from a friend saved her life that day.
I said to her, “That was lucky.” She said to me, “No, that was God.”
Somehow this woman managed to lift up her eyes. She believed that there were possibilities
beyond her pain. And today she is working, living a rewarding life, making peace with the demons of
her past. We can’t escape problems and hurts, but we can decide whether to bury our face in the
sordid side of life, or to lift up our eyes in search of some greater good, some saving power, some
higher possibility. We can choose whether to focus our eyes on the demons that would destroy us or
to lift up our eyes to the One who can save us.
There are some practical things that will help us get in the habit of lifting up our eyes. For
instance, we can build consistent praise and adoration into our prayers. There is something incredibly
uplifting about adoring God, naming in prayer the things that are wonderful about our God. Adoration
forces our eyes up from the mud to the glory. Life takes on a different perspective when we set aside
time to celebrate God’s love and power and creativity and gentleness and mercy and patience and
eternal, infinite holiness.
Thanksgiving is not identical to adoration, but they are first cousins. Adoration praises God for
who God is; thanksgiving praises God for what God has done. Thanksgiving will also change one’s
perspective on life. As we begin to review what we have, and what has gone right in our lives, and
what has blessed us, then our eyes begin to be lifted up. It is thanksgiving that makes the difference
between those who say, “Oh, no! God has given us manna again,” and those who say, “Thank God,
who has given us manna again.”
Another practical measure is to look around for the help that God makes available to us. I am
amazed at how many of us are reluctant to look for help or to accept it. We have frightening symptoms,
but we don’t go to the doctor. We have feelings that torment us, but we’re ashamed to talk to a
counselor. We’re lonely, but can’t face the risk of reaching out to another person. We struggle with
crippling guilt, but can’t bring ourselves to speak our pain aloud.
Whatever our particular problem may be, we are certain that no one else can help or even
understand how we feel. As long as we believe that, our beliefs will come true, and we will see no
further than our problems. Sometimes lifting up our eyes means looking for help.
But one further thought. While God has put a world-full of help around us, we must also
remember that God is our highest help. Nicodemus knew the law of Moses, and that was helpful, but
when he came to Christ, he had to lift his eyes still higher. The Israelites looked up to the serpent on
the pole and they were rescued, but even then they were not looking high enough.
In the generations that followed in Israel the bronze serpent was placed in the Temple and was
worshipped for its own sake. The bronze snake actually took the place of God for some Israelites. We
would be foolish not to use the gifts that God makes available for our help; but we are even more
foolish if we value the gift above the Giver.
I overheard the captain of a Florida excursion boat giving advice to a sea-sick tourist. “I
guarantee you’ll feel much better,” he said, “if you’ll quit staring down at the waves and fix your eyes on
the shore.” Good advice for boating and for living.
The question comes down to this. Where will we turn our eyes? Will we become bent and
hunched and short of spirit watching constantly for snakes? Or will we raise our face to the One who
has been lifted up for our salvation? Will we look no further than the cage of our problems? Or will we
look beyond the bars to the boundless possibilities of God? Of this much we may be certain: where
we look in life will determine what we find in life.
Soli Deo Gloria!