By Robert Clements
Did Moses have ulcers? I mean, he must have, right?
I’m sure he did—how could he not? Leading a nation of grumblers through the wilderness for forty years would test anyone’s patience and gastrointestinal system. Throw in constant complaints about the food, a few rebellions, and the odd uprising, and you’d think Moses would have had a lifetime prescription for antacids. Not to mention a therapist on call, ready to talk him down after every crisis.
But no, that’s not the case.
Moses didn’t have ulcers. The man lived to be 120 years old, and I don’t mean a bedridden, arthritis-riddled old man, unable to lift a finger. Scripture says, “His eye was not dim, nor his strength abated.” Which makes me squint through my bifocals (even after my last month’s cataract surgery, mind you) and wonder, “What vitamins was he on?”
Because let’s face it—Moses didn’t have an easy life. Every other day, the Israelites were whining about something. “No meat, Moses.” “Too much manna, Moses.” “We miss Egypt, Moses.” I mean, they acted like he was the tour guide for a vacation that went horribly wrong. One minute they were all excited about this promised land, and the next, they were ready to trade it all for some good old-fashioned Egyptian cuisine and the luxury of slavery. Who could blame Moses for thinking he might be in a bad reality show?
And let’s talk about his management team. He didn’t have an HR department or a team of consultants to turn to. No, his only resources were a burning bush and a cloud. That’s it. A bush that was on fire and a cloud that followed them around like an overly ambitious fog. Sounds like a pretty low-budget operation to me.
Yet, Moses didn’t crack under the pressure.
Here’s where it gets interesting, though—Moses had something that most of us don’t. No, not a magic staff that could turn into a snake or part the Red Sea (though, that would be helpful). He had faith. A stubborn, mountain-moving, Red Sea-parting kind of faith. The kind of faith that would make you roll over and go to sleep while your people were up all night complaining about their diet. The kind of faith that lets you rest, even when the world around you is throwing its worst at you.
Today, we have all kinds of men of God—pastors, priests, reverends—blessed with impressive theological degrees, the best sound systems for their choirs, and state-of-the-art air-conditioning units for their churches. And yet, they seem to be under the weather more than Moses ever was. “Father’s in for a stent,” I hear. “Pastor collapsed after the fifth counseling session.” Even the Sunday School teacher’s stressed out after every class. Now, I don’t blame them. Let’s face it—today’s flock doesn’t just complain about manna. They come with all kinds of baggage—marital problems, rebellious teenagers, crippling housing loans, and the weight of keeping up with the Joneses. They’re a congregation of walking, talking complaint boxes, each carrying their own set of frustrations and anxieties. If Moses had Facebook, his wall would’ve been covered with angry emoji reactions, “Bring Back Pharaoh” posts, and people tagging him in endless memes about the wilderness. The poor guy would’ve been in therapy just to deal with his notifications.
But let’s not forget—Moses heard all the complaints. He dealt with every rebellion, every betrayal, every squabble between siblings and tribes. He listened to the murmurs, the grumbles, and the outright mutinies. Yet, somehow, he never cracked. No ulcers. Why?
Because Moses had a direct line to God. Not a Google search or a WhatsApp prayer group. No, he went straight to the Source every time a problem arose. And the key is this: once he handed over the problem, he left it there. No second-guessing, no constant worrying. He didn’t take the issue back with him. Unlike most of us, who hand our worries to God in one breath and snatch them back the next, clutching them like a precious possession.
How many times do we pray, “Lord, take this burden,” only to wake up at 2 a.m., tossing and turning, thinking of every possible scenario, every contingency plan we could put in place just in case God doesn’t come through? We make prayer requests, but then we try to solve everything ourselves—putting God in the passenger seat while we take the wheel.
Maybe it’s time we took a page from Moses’ book. Maybe it’s time to truly “hand it over” and leave it there. Believe that God works in ways that are far beyond our comprehension. And let’s stop waiting for the ulcer symptoms to show up before we take action. Real faith isn’t just about waiting for the crisis to hit—it’s about trusting that God has everything under control before it even comes our way. Because real faith doesn’t just move mountains; it keeps your blood pressure in check. It gives you the strength to lead, to endure, and to live without letting the stresses of life bring you to your knees. You can go through life ulcer-free if you trust, truly trust, that God is in control.
But let’s be clear—absolute trust comes with absolute obedience. If you have ulcers, ask yourself: are you truly obeying God in all areas of your life? Have you truly handed everything over to Him, or are you still clutching the reins of control, just waiting for the next stressful moment to arrive?
It’s time we take a deep breath and ask ourselves, like Moses, “What kind of faith do I have?” Because that faith—true, unwavering faith—could just be the one thing that stands between us and a lifetime of ulcers. And I, for one, think I’d rather have a peace-filled life than an ulcer-filled one…!
The author conducts many activities connected with writing and speaking. To find out more, log onto https://bobsbanter.com/a-phone-call-away/