A Complaining Spirit

“A Complaining Spirit”

Numbers 21:3-9 /John 3:14-17

Preacher: Rev. Mark Bartsch

Kobe Union Church

August 3, 2025

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be always acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen. These words often precede my sermon; they remind me, as a preacher, that my voice is merely an instrument for the Lord's message. You don't need to hear the Gospel according to Bartsch; you need to hear the living word of God. I also wonder if we should utter these words as a daily waking prayer: "Lord, may the words I speak and the thoughts that dwell in my heart be acceptable and pleasing to You today, my strength and my redeemer."

We stand today in a world that often celebrates freedom above all else: freedom to choose, freedom to speak, freedom to live as we want. As people of faith, we understand freedom in a profound, spiritual sense, freedom from death, freedom to live in relationship in union with our Creator—a freedom secured not by my efforts but through the sacrifice of our Lord on the cross. It’s a liberating truth; even as we are yoked to our Lord and Savior, we celebrate our freedom in Christ.

Yet, here’s a paradox, a truth from ancient times to our modern lives: freedom does not automatically guarantee faithfulness. We often trick ourselves into believing we’ve earned our freedom through our actions or goodness. But the story of God freeing the people of Israel from bondage in Egypt instantly dispels that notion. We see that as soon as they are free, their first impulse is disobedience and complaining. They build a golden calf for goodness sakes. 

Think about it. We are set free, liberated from whatever held or holds us captive—whether it's a personal vice or a challenging situation. And in that moment of liberation, there’s immense joy, profound gratitude. But then, as the journey continues, as the novelty of freedom wears off, as new challenges come, what often happens? We begin to forget the very hand that delivered us. We begin to look around, and we begin to complain. "This freedom is not what I wanted. Can’t we go back to Egypt? The food was better in Egypt!" (FYI, the slaves did not eat these choice foods in Egypt because they were slaves.)

This morning, I want us to focus on Numbers 21 but also how it connects to John 3, as Jesus references this passage in his conversation with Nicodemus. I have preached these passages before, but what drew me this time was a complaining spirit, just like last week I touched on righteous and unrighteous anger. This is not something I think we have a problem with right now at KUC, but sometimes it is more profitable to teach on a topic to make people aware before there is a problem. Like teaching about healthy living before heart attack not after it.

The Israelites, God’s chosen people, have been miraculously delivered from slavery in Egypt. Plagues, a parting sea, manna from heaven, water from rocks – they’ve seen God’s mighty power firsthand. They are free! They are on their way to the Promised Land! This should be a journey of perpetual thanksgiving, right? But no.

In Numbers 21, we find the people once again on the move, having detoured around Edom. And what’s their response to this prolonged journey, this continued reliance on God’s daily provision? Verse 4 tells us: "And the people became impatient on the way. And the people spoke against God and against Moses, 'Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food and no water, and we loathe this worthless food.'"

"We loathe this worthless food." Can you imagine? This is the manna, the miraculous bread from heaven, that has sustained the people for years! As you know, Stephanie is in Nagano, so I am cooking for myself every night. When Stephanie is home, there is a lot of variety in what we eat. Well, over the last 6 days, I have eaten meat sauce  spaghetti. It is easy to add a little more meat or some more vegetables or tomato paste, and it is good, one of my favorites. But I am getting sick of it, and that is only six days. And who would I complain to because I am making it?

This isn't just a casual grumble; it's a deep-seated complaining spirit. What is that? A complaining spirit is more than just voicing a legitimate concern. It’s a deep dissatisfaction that festers within us, poisoning our perspective and making us blind to blessings. It’s a lens through which we view the world, focusing solely on what's wrong, what's missing, and what we do not like.

Let’s look at the direct opposite of a complaining spirit. In Psalm 16, specifically verse 6: David says, "The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance." You might think that David wrote this after he was king and living on easy street. But many biblical scholars believe that it is more probable that he wrote this when he was running for his life from the old king (Saul), hiding in caves, eating and living rough. But we see what makes David great. He chose to see delight and inheritance even in the midst of extreme hardship. Like the sayings, “Don't whine, shine!” David shines when most of us whine. That is the way to be a man or woman after God’s own heart, by choosing—and it is a choice—to praise God. At its heart it is looking through the lens of faith, not fear or despair. But that is not what people do. We are predisposed to complaining.

And what does this complaining spirit do to us, internally?

• It Rewrites History and Distorts Reality: It makes us forget God's past faithfulness and magnifies current discomforts.

• It Shrinks Our View of God and Exaggerates Difficulty: When we complain, we make God smaller than our problems. So in effect making our difficulties our god.

• It Pulls Us Away from Trust and Toward Bitterness: It replaces a reliance on God with resentment.

And it doesn't just erode us internally; it devastates our relationships. It pushes people away. I remember a woman who used to come into my office years ago at another church. I have to admit, I used to dread those meetings with her because all she did was complain. She would complain about everything – her husband, the church coffee, the weather, you name it. One day near the end, she said what really bothered her was that no one wanted to be around her.

I took a deep breath, and perhaps I shouldn't have been so blunt, but I told her, "You’re right. Many people do avoid you. And the reason is, you complain a lot." She disagreed, of course, until I recounted eight complaints she had made just in that conversation. The truth hit her. She teared up, walked out, and drove away. Later that night, her husband drove to my house. I thought I was in trouble, seeing his wife still in the car. Instead, he thanked me and asked if I would meet with her again. She did meet with me, and she truly began to work on that complaining spirit. She even tied a rubber band around her wrist, snapping it gently whenever she caught herself complaining. It was a physical reminder to re-orient her mind away from the negative to the many blessings in her life.

A complaining spirit builds walls where there should be bridges, alienates instead of connects.

So, how did God respond to the Israelites’ chronic complaining? Did He give them better food? Did He shorten the journey? No. Verse 6 says: "Then the Lord sent fiery serpents among the people, and they bit the people, so that many people of Israel died." A little extreme but effective. 

God sent snakes. Why? Not to be cruel, but out of a desire to wake them up. Their complaining was a spiritual venom, slowly killing their faith, eroding their relationship with Him. The physical venom mirrored their spiritual condition.

And it was only then, when they faced the tangible, painful consequences, that they came to Moses: "We have sinned, for we have spoken against the Lord and against you; pray to the Lord, that he may take away the serpents from us."

Notice God’s response to Moses’ plea. Did He immediately take away all the snakes? No. That’s an interesting detail, isn't it? The problem, the source of their pain, remained. Instead, God instructed Moses to do something profoundly counter-intuitive: "Make a serpent and set it on a bronze pole, and everyone who is bitten, when he sees it, shall live." It was called Nehushtan (נְחֻשְׁתָּן) derived from the Hebrew word for bronze (nechoshet) and serpent (nachash).

Think about that. They were to look at the very thing that bit them, the symbol of their affliction, and if they did, they would be healed. It is called repentance. And something crucial: the venom wasn't an instant killer. I guess the venom of a black mamba kills in 3 to 5 minutes. This was a slow, agonizing rot, much like a complaining spirit. It gave them time to come into the center of the camp, to look up, to repent, to be saved. The immediate threat wasn't removed; the way of healing was provided.

Now, fast forward over a thousand years. It’s night. Jesus is having a private conversation with Nicodemus, a respected Jewish leader, a teacher of Israel. Nicodemus comes by night, perhaps out of caution, perhaps out of a genuine need to talk to Jesus. Jesus immediately challenges his assumptions about spiritual birth. And then, Jesus says something that must have resonated deeply with Nicodemus, this story from scripture one that Nicodemous knew well probably taught from.  Jesus declares, "And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life."

Jesus connects the dots for Nicodemus, and for us. He takes that ancient, familiar story of the bronze serpent and reveals its ultimate fulfillment in Himself. In the Old Testament, the people looked at the symbol of the very thing that bit them – their sin – the snake. In the New Testament, we are called to look, not at our sin, but at the One who takes away our sins: Jesus Christ, lifted up on the cross.

Our complaining spirit, our discontent, our unfaithfulness – these are the venoms that bite us, slowly eroding our joy, taking our peace, ruining our relationships, and our connection with God. And often, like the Israelites, we don’t truly cry out until the pain becomes unbearable.

But Jesus points us to the ultimate cure. We are not to dwell on the sin itself, (we are to confess it but not dwell on it) To stick our nose in our own crap like you do with a dog to train it not to go to the bathroom in the house. No, we are to look beyond the sin, to the One who absorbed the full venom of sin for us.

While I love the simplicity of our Protestant cross, sometimes I need to see a crucifix to see Jesus on the cross for my sins to appreciate what has been done for me. Jesus didn't just point to a remedy; He became the remedy. He took on the full weight of our complaining, our rebellion, our every sin, so that when we look to Him, we don’t see our shame, but His sacrifice. We don’t see our venom, but His healing. 2 Cor 5:21  "For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God." In that moment on the cross, the Son of Man was "lifted up" – for our sake. So that whoever looks upon Him, whoever believes in Him, will not perish but have eternal life.

So, what does this mean for us today, as we wrestle with our own tendencies towards a complaining spirit?

• Acknowledge the Bite: Just as the Israelites had to recognize they were bitten, and just as the woman in my office had to confront her constant complaints, we must first acknowledge that venom of sin. As Philippians 2:14 says, "Do all things without grumbling or questioning."

• Look to the Healer: Once we acknowledge the bite, we don't fixate on the venom. We turn our eyes, our hearts, our gaze to Jesus on the cross.

• Choose Gratitude Over Grumbling: The opposite of a complaining spirit is a spirit of gratitude. It’s a daily, conscious choice. Psalm 103:2 reminds us: "Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits."

Freedom is a gift. But faithfulness is a journey, a choice we make every day to fix our eyes not on our discomforts but on the One who was bitten for us, the One who swallowed the venom of sin and death, so that we might truly live.

And now, as we prepare to come to the Lord's Table, let us remember that the very body and blood of Christ we are about to receive are the ultimate testament to His willingness to be lifted up for us, transforming our complaints into communion, our bitterness into blessing.

Possible Discussion Questions 

1. The sermon discusses freedom not automatically guaranteeing faithfulness, and how the Israelites quickly turned to complaining after being freed from Egypt. Where do you see this paradox playing out in your own life or in the world around you today?

2. The "complaining spirit" is described as a deep dissatisfaction that festers, poisoning our perspective and making us blind to blessings. Can you share a time when you recognized this spirit in yourself or others, and what steps were taken to counter it?

3. The passages draws a parallel between the Israelites looking at the bronze serpent for healing and us looking to Jesus on the cross for salvation. How does this connection deepen your understanding of repentance and healing in your faith journey?