Tag Archives: Rite of Passage

An 11-Day Trip in 40-Years

(It takes eleven days to go from Horeb to Kadesh Barnea by the Mount Seir road.)
Deuteronomy 1:2 (NIV)

In the fall of 2003, I made a trip to Israel with my boss and long-time mentor. It was never meant to be a simple vacation. Chuck, who founded our business along with his late wife, Charleen, was planning to retire from the business at the end of 2004. My colleague Scott and I would be taking it over. Chuck had discipled both Scott and me as young men in high school and college. We’d journeyed together in life and business for many years, and the transfer of the business that Chuck and Charleen founded was a major milestone. Chuck wanted to go to Israel, to share the experience together, and to pray over the next phase of our shared journey.

I have many fond memories of that trip. In particular, I remember sitting atop Mount Arbel on the north west of the Sea of Galilee. When Jesus went up on a mountain to pray, I have to believe Mount Arbel was at least one of the places. It affords a panoramic view of the Sea of Galilee. 

From the top of Mount Arbel you can see fields white unto harvest, Capernaum, and the fishing villages that dot the Galilee shore. In the distance is the Decapolis region where so much of Jesus ‘ministry unfolded. Standing on top of Arbel would have been like a strategy session for Jesus and His ministry. It was on top of Arbel that Chuck, Scott, and I spent an extended time of prayer for the business, for where God would lead us.

Today we begin the book of Deuteronomy. It is the last of the five books of Moses, known also as the Torah, or what Jews refer to as “The Law.” The word Deuteronomy means “second telling.” It’s a repeat of the story thus far since the book of Exodus, which for modern readers is a bit of a head scratcher. Especially those poor souls who made their New Year’s resolution to read through the Bible cover-to-cover and have already slogged through Leviticus and Numbers.

“What!? The same thing all over again? Are you kidding me?!”

I suspect no small number of New Year’s Bible-reading resolutions die somewhere in early Deuteronomy. But, context is everything. Sometimes, those stories your grandparents bored you with as a child take on new meaning forty years later in life when you have grandchildren of your own.

As Deuteronomy opens, Moses and the Hebrew tribes are standing on the shore of the River Jordan in the land of Moab. Across the Jordan is the Promised Land. They have been here before, but that was 40 years ago. The people to whom Moses is speaking are not the same Hebrews who stood here then. This is a new generation. Some were babies and little children. Many had not been born. God has brought them here to claim the very promise their parents and grandparents once stood poised to inherit. Moses is retiring. He will not go with them. Joshua is taking over leadership of the company.

For the young Hebrews looking at the sun sparkle off the water of the Jordan River and gazing at the land beyond, the Story is not a boring rehash. It’s memory as mentorship. This is Moses saying, “I love you enough to tell the truth about where we’ve been… so you do not repeat it.”

Jewish sages see this passage as a parental moment. A loving father preparing his children for spreading their wings and taking flight on their own. And one of the main themes in the retelling is how fear short-circuits faith and destiny. They’d been right here 40 years ago. But, their parents and grandparents were afraid. They were afraid because fear choked out the courage to follow God into the land He promised. Even though God had delivered them from Egypt, had miraculously appeared on the mountain and given the Law, had miraculously led them every step of the way with a pillar of fire by night and a pillar of cloud by day as guides.

At the very beginning of the chapter, Moses adds a parenthetical that stands out like a sore thumb in the text. It doesn’t fit in the flow:

(It takes eleven days to go from Horeb to Kadesh Barnea by the Mount Seir road.)

Moses is making a cheeky point. What could and should have been an eleven day trip has taken them 40 years to bring them to this place in this moment — because they were afraid to follow God into the Promised Land. Forty years in the wilderness was not so much punishment as it was spiritual formation. Along my journey I’ve learned that God does not just pass students onto the next grade if they haven’t learned the required lessons. Some souls spend their entire earthly lives repeating spiritual Kindergarten, never quite trusting the Teacher enough to move on.

I suppose that’s why my thoughts drift back to Mount Arbel—memory as mentorship, then and now. In the quiet this morning, I feel the wind whipping across the top of Mount Arbel. I stare out across the Sea of Galilee out of which flows the Jordan River. I remember Chuck, Scott, and I praying about our own moment of transition.

Will I have faith to step into God’s promise, or will I flee in fear?

“Do not be afraid,” Moses said to them. This phrase will be used more in the book of Deuteronomy than any other book in the Great Story. It is a father, a mentor lovingly urging those he’s loved and raised to embrace faith over their fears, to learn the lessons of the past, and to step into the promises God has spoken over their future.

What a great reminder as I step into another week, as I step into the final month of 2025, and as I stand on the precipice of a new year in which I will begin the seventh decade of my earthly journey. I don’t think this trek through Deuteronomy will be mindless repetition. I think it holds spiritual truths that will be essential for the road ahead.

So I lace ’em up again—heart steady, spirit willing. Here we go. I hope you’ll join me on the journey.

Have a great day, my friend.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

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These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!

Humanity’s Spiritual Graduation

On the first day of the Festival of Unleavened Bread, the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Where do you want us to make preparations for you to eat the Passover?”
Matthew 26:17 (NIV)

On our kitchen island downstairs is a stack of graduation announcements and corresponding cards that are waiting for me. It is the annual celebration of young people’s rite of passage known as commencement. It’s a celebration of academic completion, but it is more than that. Whether going on for more school or going off into the world to start working, it typically marks a departure from home and the beginning of a young person’s independent life journey.

Immediately before starting this chapter-a-day trek through Matthew’s version of Jesus’ story in March, we had just completed a journey through the ancient Hebrew priestly manual of Leviticus. Several times in that series I made reference to God’s leading the Hebrews out of slavery in Egypt and starting something new. It was a new way of living together in community with God, who placed Himself in a tent at the center of the Hebrew camp. Leviticus gave instructions for a series of festivals, none bigger than Passover, an annual celebration of God miraculously and graciously delivering the Hebrews from their slavery in Egypt. An event that had just happened when Leviticus was given through Moses.

It is no coincidence that the events of Jesus crucifixion and resurrection occur during the festival of Passover. It is no coincidence that Jesus establishes the sacrament of Communion during the annual Passover meal know as the Seder.

The two events connect.

Many times in the journey through Leviticus I mentioned that God was relating to humanity in the toddler stages of development. Just as God was doing something new with the establishment of Passover in the book of Leviticus, God is starting something new during this Passover celebration. Humanity has developed since Leviticus. A whole bunch of life has happened from wilderness wanderings to conquest, a period of judges, the establishment of an earthly kingdom for God’s twelve tribes that ended in divorce and civil war. Then there was a period of strife and exile followed by a period of return and restoration. It’s been a tumultuous childhood.

I think of Jesus’ death and resurrection much like graduation in our culture. For humanity, it was a rite of passage out of spiritual childhood and into spiritual adulthood. The black-and-white rules a parent lays down with a toddler don’t work with a high school senior. We have graduated from very explicit rules about not having sex animals or family members to Jesus’ teaching spiritual principles like making God’s kingdom your priority knowing that God will take care of your daily needs. The old lessons remain, the principles that lie within them are still relevant, but now the emerging adult must willfully choose to apply those principles for themselves in spiritually mature ways as they navigate life in the world on their own.

Jesus will leave His children 40 days after the resurrection. He will ascend to heaven and they will begin life on earth without His physical presence, though His spiritual presence will be readily available through Holy Spirit. Nevertheless, God is doing something new. It is a rite of passage. This Passover meal is a spiritual commencement. The bread, wine, and sacrificial lamb of the Passover Seder are transformed into the body and blood of the Lamb of God who will take away the sins of the world. Death will be defeated once and for all. Jesus Himself says it is a “new covenant.”

Everything is connected.

In the quiet this morning, I’m thinking about those young people whose graduation cards sit down in the kitchen. Oh, the places they’ll go in life.

I’m also thinking about a message I’m giving on Sunday in which I’m going to contrast “life-giving freedom” Jesus prescribes for His disciples and the “human legalism.” It is not uncommon for we humans to cling to toddler-like systems. Children never spiritually (and sometimes physically) leave. Elders continue to rule with black-and-white fundamentals and control the system through shame and fear. But that was never Jesus’ paradigm. He launched His disciples despite the fact that in today’s chapter it would seem they weren’t really ready for the task.

I don’t want to be a spiritual toddler my entire life. I want to be a healthy and productive spiritual grown up.

[cue: Pomp and Circumstance]

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!

Time to Drive

Time to Drive (CaD Ezk 44) Wayfarer

This is what the Sovereign Lord says: No foreigner uncircumcised in heart and flesh is to enter my sanctuary, not even the foreigners who live among the Israelites.
Ezekiel 44:9 (NIV)

I was driving with our daughter Taylor in the car. It was a gorgeous, quiet day late in the afternoon. She was around eleven or twelve years old at the time. About a block from our house was this giant parking lot that sat completely empty. I pulled into the parking lot and Taylor was wondering what was going on. I told her we were switching seats and that I was going to give her an opportunity to drive the car.

Taylor was completely freaked out by this, and that first driving lesson didn’t last very long, but she did it. She learned the basics of an accelerator and brake pedal, about shifting the car into gear, and she performed some basic turns with the steering wheel.

I not only had the joy of taking her completely by surprise, but I was also wanting to plant a seed in her soul. She was on the cusp of a new phase in life when she will find herself capable and responsible for things that were once forbidden to her. And while she was still a few years from having legal permission to drive a car, the truth is that she was already far more capable than she even knew – she’d never even thought about it.

In today’s chapter, Ezekiel’s vision continues and he is reminded of all the rules of the priests in the Temple that were established back in the book of Leviticus. In a previous post, I talked about God being a God who makes distinctions. And in today’s chapter, we are reminded that in that day there were distinctions between priests and non-priests, even between Jews and non-Jews. By the time Jesus appeared on the scene, the distinction had morphed into outright prejudice and religiously sanctioned racism.

But humanity grows and matures the way my daughter does. There was a time when the distinction was made “You are not to drive. Only daddy or mommy drives. That’s your seat. This one is mine.” But there comes a time when the distinction is removed. Jesus came to remove the distinctions and do something completely new.

Paul, who was himself a Jewish religious and legal scholar who became a disciple and apostle of Jesus, explained the removal of the distinction Ezekiel shares in today’s chapter between Jewish Levitical priests and “uncircumcised foreigners” to the believers in Ephesus:

(I know this is a long passage, but imagine yourself being one of the “uncircumcised foreigners” who was never allowed into the Temple and had been treated like a second-class citizen your whole life reading this for the first time.)

 The Messiah has made things up between us so that we’re now together on this, both non-Jewish outsiders and Jewish insiders. He tore down the wall we used to keep each other at a distance. He repealed the law code that had become so clogged with fine print and footnotes that it hindered more than it helped. Then he started over. Instead of continuing with two groups of people separated by centuries of animosity and suspicion, he created a new kind of human being, a fresh start for everybody.

Christ brought us together through his death on the cross. The Cross got us to embrace, and that was the end of the hostility. Christ came and preached peace to you outsiders and peace to us insiders. He treated us as equals, and so made us equals. Through him we both share the same Spirit and have equal access to the Father.

That’s plain enough, isn’t it? You’re no longer wandering exiles. This kingdom of faith is now your home country. You’re no longer strangers or outsiders. You belong here, with as much right to the name Christian as anyone. God is building a home. He’s using us all—irrespective of how we got here—in what he is building. He used the apostles and prophets for the foundation. Now he’s using you, fitting you in brick by brick, stone by stone, with Christ Jesus as the cornerstone that holds all the parts together. We see it taking shape day after day—a holy temple built by God, all of us built into it, a temple in which God is quite at home.
Ephesians 2:14-22 (MSG) emphases added

Jesus came to usher in a new age of humanity in which the Temple is no longer a bricks-and-mortar building but a flesh-and-blood organism. Everyone who is in Christ is a brick of the living, breathing Temple, and everyone who is in Christ is a priest of that Temple. We’re all included, we’re all a part of it.

In the quiet this morning, I am grieving the fact that for two thousand years the Institutional church has largely succeeded in putting the old distinctions back in place in which professional clergy are the only holy priests and the people in the pews are the unholy commoners. But that’s not what Jesus taught or intended. You and I, my friend, are a brick in the Temple and we’re Priests in this world to show others by our lives, our words, and our example the love and way of Jesus.

Jesus came to tell all of us “Get over here in the drivers seat, my child. It’s time to learn to drive.”

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

The Continued Exodus

The Continued Exodus (CaD Ex 40) Wayfarer

Then the cloud covered the tent of meeting, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle. Moses was not able to enter the tent of meeting because the cloud settled upon it, and the glory of the Lord filled the tabernacle.
Exodus 40:34-35 (NRSVCE)

In my current waypoint in life’s journey, I find it fascinating to observe the change in relationship that occurs between parent and child across one’s lifetime. I’m speaking, of course, in generalities, for every family system has unique elements based on the individual personalities, temperaments, and relationships in a human family system.

Both a child, and then as a parent of young children, I experienced the combination of love and fear that accompanies the parental-child relationship. A small child knows the love, hugs, cuddles, protection, and guidance of a parent. The child also has healthy respect for the parent’s size, power, authority, and wrath.

I can remember when the girls were young and would sleep together in the same room. When they were supposed to be in bed sleeping they would sometimes giggle, play, and get themselves riled up. All it took was for me to open the door and step in the room to change the atmosphere of the room. I wasn’t even angry or upset, but they reacted to my presence with a behavioral reset.

Now that our daughters are adults with their own family systems, the relationship has matured. I feel from both of them genuine respect, gratitude, and honor. Long gone are childish fears of parental wrath, which are replaced with a desire for healthy relationship void of disappointment, shame, control, enmeshment, and conflict. There is still a child’s natural desire for affirmation, encouragement, pride, guidance, and support from dad.

In today’s chapter, we finish the journey through the book of Exodus. The Hebrews have been delivered from slavery in Egypt. They have been introduced to God by Moses. A covenant between God and the Hebrews has been established along with a code of conduct and a system of worship complete with a traveling temple called the Tabernacle. Exodus ends with the completion of the Tabernacle and God’s “glory” descending in the form of a cloud that filled the tent and surrounded it. At night, the cloud appeared to be filled with fire. Even Moses, who had repeatedly been in the midst of God’s glory, was afraid of entering in.

The cloud and fire of God’s presence have been mentioned multiple times in the journey through Exodus. I couldn’t help but notice that the reaction of Moses and the Hebrew people was like that of Taylor and Madison when I would enter the room of little giggling girls who weren’t going to sleep. There is respect, a little bit of awe, and a little bit of fear. I keep going back to my podcast Time (Part 1) in which I unpack the notion of human history being like a natural human life-cycle. Moses and the Hebrews are in the toddler stage of humanity. For them, God is this divine authority figure who loves them, delivered them, protected them, provided for them, and did mighty works they couldn’t comprehend. There is both appreciation, devotion, but also awe and fear.

Fast-forward 1500 years. Humanity is no longer a child and ready for the divine rite-of-passage. Father God sends His own Son to live among us, teach us, and exemplify His ways in humility, pouring out, surrender and sacrifice. The night before His crucifixion, as He is about to consummate this eternal rite-of-passage, Jesus speaks of the relationship between humans and God the Father in very different terms:

Jesus replied, “Anyone who loves me will obey my teaching. My Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. Anyone who does not love me will not obey my teaching. These words you hear are not my own; they belong to the Father who sent me.

“All this I have spoken while still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.”
John 14:23-27 (NIV)

“My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you. Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command. I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from my Father I have made known to you. You did not choose me, but I chose you and appointed you so that you might go and bear fruit—fruit that will last—and so that whatever you ask in my name the Father will give you.”
John 15:12-16 (NIV)

Can you feel the difference? This is no longer pyrotechnics and daddy booming “GO TO SLEEP!” to wide-eyed, little ones who have little cognitive capacity. This is the dad talk at the waypoint of launching and releasing into adulthood: “I love you. You’re ready for this. I’ll always be right here for you, but it’s time. You’ve got this. Remember what I’ve told you and shown you. Love, be humble, be generous, do the right thing, and love, love, love, love, love.”

In the quiet this morning, I’m reminded that it never ends. For those who ask, seek, and knock. For any who truly follows and obeys. This dance, this relationship, this journey never stops progressing. It keeps changing as we change. It keeps maturing as we mature. It keeps getting layered with more, deeper meaning, and deeper understanding.

Do you know what Exodus means? It’s defined as a “going out; an emigration.” God led the Hebrews in a going out of slavery, into the wilderness, toward the promise land. Jesus led us in a going out from a different kind of slavery, into a different kind of wilderness, heading toward the ultimate Promised Land.

That night that Jesus had “the talk” with His followers, He began the talk with these words:

“My Father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you? And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”
John 14:2-3 (NIV)

That’s where this Wayfarer is headed as I “go out” on another day of this journey. Thanks for joining me, friend. Cheers!

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day Numbers 27

Moses Face
Image via Wikipedia

Moses followed God’s orders. He took Joshua and stood him before Eleazar the priest in front of the entire community. He laid his hands on him and commissioned him, following the procedures God had given Moses. Numbers 27:22-23 (MSG)

A week or so ago I was catching up with a long-time friend. When I asked him what he’d been experiencing in his own life and faith journey, he commented that he’d learned that life was separated into several different “seasons.” In the simplicity of our youth we tend to think of life in simple terms. We are children and then we become adults. We’re young and then we grow old.

My friend was correct, however. There are many seasons in life and with each passing season there is time of transition which can be accompanied by grief, joy, confusion, contentment, frustration, and any number of other emotions.

There is something essentially human in needing “rites of passage” to help us transition from one season of life into another. In today’s chapter, God saw to it that Moses created a rite of passage to transition authority and leadership from himself to Joshua. Likewise, we have graduation services, weddings, showers, special ceremonies, confirmations, birthday parties, and awards dinners to help us mark time and the occasions when life transitions from one season into another.

My experience is that some of the most important rites of passage have been lost or weakened in our time and culture. The rite of passage for girls into womanhood, and boys into manhood are incredibly blurry (and often non-existent) in today’s world.

Today, I’m thankful for life in all of its seasons. Death-like winter seasons of difficulty teach us wisdom, patience, perseverance and prove our character. Summer-like seasons of joy provide rest, healing, abundance, contentment and celebration. I’m also mindful today of how I can consciously help my family, friends and loved ones as they transition from one season to another through our various rites of passage.

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