Psalms 78:21-55

When GOD heard that, he was furious— his anger flared against Jacob, he lost his temper with Israel. It was clear they didn’t believe God, had no intention of trusting in his help. But God helped them anyway, commanded the clouds and gave orders that opened the gates of heaven. He rained down showers of manna to eat, he gave them the Bread of Heaven. They ate the bread of the mighty angels; he sent them all the food they could eat. He let East Wind break loose from the skies, gave a strong push to South Wind. This time it was birds that rained down— succulent birds, an abundance of birds. He aimed them right for the center of their camp; all round their tents there were birds. They ate and had their fill; he handed them everything they craved on a platter. But their greed knew no bounds; they stuffed their mouths with more and more. Finally, God was fed up, his anger erupted— he cut down their brightest and best, he laid low Israel’s finest young men. And—can you believe it?—they kept right on sinning; all those wonders and they still wouldn’t believe! So their lives wasted away to nothing— nothing to show for their lives but a ghost town. When he cut them down, they came running for help; they turned and pled for mercy. They gave witness that God was their rock, that High God was their redeemer, But they didn’t mean a word of it; they lied through their teeth the whole time. They could not have cared less about him, wanted nothing to do with his Covenant. And God? Compassionate! Forgave the sin! Didn’t destroy! Over and over he reined in his anger, restrained his considerable wrath. He knew what they were made of; he knew there wasn’t much to them, How often in the desert they had spurned him, tried his patience in those wilderness years. Time and again they pushed him to the limit, provoked Israel’s Holy God. How quickly they forgot what he’d done, forgot their day of rescue from the enemy, When he did miracles in Egypt, wonders on the plain of Zoan. He turned the River and its streams to blood— not a drop of water fit to drink. He sent flies, which ate them alive, and frogs, which drove them crazy. He turned their harvest over to caterpillars, everything they had worked for to the locusts. He flattened their grapevines with hail; a killing frost ruined their orchards. He pounded their cattle with hail, let thunderbolts loose on their herds. His anger flared, a wild firestorm of havoc, An advance guard of disease-carrying angels to clear the ground, preparing the way before him. He didn’t spare those people, he let the plague rage through their lives. He killed all the Egyptian firstborns, lusty infants, offspring of Ham’s virility. Then he led his people out like sheep, took his flock safely through the wilderness. He took good care of them; they had nothing to fear. The Sea took care of their enemies for good. He brought them into his holy land, this mountain he claimed for his own. He scattered everyone who got in their way; he staked out an inheritance for them— the tribes of Israel all had their own places.