**The Bronze Serpent in the Wilderness**

The sun blazed mercilessly over the vast wilderness of the Negev, its scorching rays turning the sands into a furnace beneath the feet of the Israelites. The people of God had journeyed far from Mount Hor, skirting the land of Edom, their spirits as parched as the cracked earth beneath them. Weariness clung to them like a second skin, and with it came a familiar bitterness—a murmuring against the Lord and against Moses, His servant.

*”Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in this wilderness?”* they cried, their voices hoarse with thirst and frustration. *”There is no bread! There is no water! And we detest this miserable food!”*

The manna, once a miraculous gift from heaven, now seemed loathsome to them. The very provision of God had become a source of complaint, and their ungrateful hearts festered with rebellion.

The Lord, who had borne their grumblings before, saw that this time their defiance had reached a new depth. His righteous anger burned against them, for they had despised His mercy and tested His patience once too often.

Then, from the barren rocks and the dry riverbeds, a new terror emerged.

Slithering from hidden crevices, venomous serpents—fiery in their appearance, their scales glinting like burnished copper—poured forth into the camp. Their hisses filled the air as they struck without warning, sinking fangs into the flesh of the murmurers. The venom burned like fire, and men, women, and children fell writhing to the ground, their bodies convulsing in agony. Death spread swiftly, and the wails of the dying rose like a dreadful chorus.

Panic seized the camp. Those who had moments before cursed Moses now ran to him in desperation. *”We have sinned!”* they confessed, their faces twisted in fear and remorse. *”We spoke against the Lord and against you! Pray to the Lord to take away these serpents from us!”*

Moses, though wearied by their faithlessness, interceded for them, his heart heavy with both sorrow and hope. And the Lord, ever merciful even in judgment, provided a way of salvation.

*”Make a fiery serpent,”* God commanded, *”and set it on a pole. And everyone who is bitten, when he sees it, shall live.”*

Moses obeyed without delay. He fashioned a serpent of bronze, its form coiled as if ready to strike, and lifted it high upon a pole for all to see. Then he cried out to the people, *”Look and live! Whoever gazes upon this serpent shall not perish!”*

At first, some hesitated. Could mere sight heal them? Would a glance at a lifeless image truly undo the deadly poison coursing through their veins? Yet those who believed—who turned their eyes upward in desperate faith—found the burning pain receding, their strength returning. Death loosened its grip, and life surged anew in their bodies.

But there were those who refused. Some, too proud to admit their need, turned away, preferring to trust in their own remedies or simply resigning themselves to despair. For them, there was no healing, only the bitter end their stubbornness had chosen.

And so the bronze serpent stood, a sign of both judgment and grace. It was not the serpent itself that saved them, but the God who had ordained it—a foreshadowing of greater salvation to come. For just as the serpent was lifted up in the wilderness, so too would the Son of Man be lifted up, that all who look to Him in faith might not perish, but have eternal life.

The people moved on from that place, their hearts humbled, their mouths no longer filled with complaints—at least for a time. The memory of the serpents and the bronze symbol of deliverance lingered in their minds, a reminder that the God who judges sin is also the God who saves.

And so they journeyed onward, toward the Promised Land, learning—though often forgetting—that the Lord’s mercy endures even in the wilderness.