Have you ever found yourself yelling at a character in a movie or a book because they’re making a really stupid decision? “Don’t open that door!” you think, trying to imbue the fictional character with some common sense via telepathy. “Nothing good can come from opening that door.” And then you sigh in frustration when the character inevitably opens the door, which releases the Kraken or open’s Pandora’s box or sets the stage for the protagonist’s swift demise.
I often feel this way when I read the Old Testament. Those Israelites—they’re something else, aren’t they? They complain about food and water when God has literally provided a miraculous food source for them in the desert and given them water when they need it (see Num. 21). They build a calf to worship right after God parted the Red Sea for their escape from Pharoah’s army (see Ex. 32). They bow down to Baal and commit adultery with the pagan nations around them when God specifically told them not to (see Num. 25). Sometimes I read through the Old Testament narrative with exasperation for these people who were rescued by the hand of God but who ran far from Him whenever they saw something shiny. “Don’t do it!” I want to yell at them. And yet, I have a sneaking suspicion that had I been numbered among the people of Israel rescued from slavery in Egypt, I’d have grumbled with the best of them. I know how quickly divided my heart can be.
Centuries after Israel’s ebb and flow of faithfulness to God, the apostle Paul wrote a letter to a group of floundering Christians in the city of Corinth. These people were mostly Gentiles who had come to faith in Jesus after Paul’s first visit to them. The church in Corinth was established, and the people who used to worship false gods and eat their meals at pagan temples had been washed clean by the blood of Jesus. They were now part of the family of God through faith in Jesus, linked by adoption to the family of Abraham, to those very people who grumbled and regularly abandoned their faith in God. But, the Corinthian Christians struggled with faithfulness much as Israel had. They felt pulled to fuse pagan idolatry with faith in Christ much as the Israelites had done with Baal and Yahweh. They found it hard to let go of sexual immorality and function as a unified body of Christ. Some of them struggled to relinquish their idols. Couldn’t they worship Christ and eat dinner at the pagan temple just to cover all their bases?
In 1 Corinthians 10, Paul warns the Christians in Corinth about the dangers of idolatry and sexual immorality. He warns them by drawing their attention to those fumbling, floundering Israelites wandering the desert after their deliverance from slavery in Egypt. He calls the Corinthians to remember the people of Israel who had Christ in their very midst but struggled to follow Him faithfully (1 Cor. 10:3-5). Paul explains why the story of Israel was important for the Corinthians (and us by extension): “Now these things took place as examples for us, that we might not desire evil as they did. Do not be idolaters as some of them were” (1 Cor. 10:6-7a). Paul goes on to list a few stories of their defection: the golden calf, the idolatry and sexual immorality at Peor, the grumbling that led to the bites from fiery serpents. The consequences for these rebellious events were grave: bitter waters, plague, and much death. Paul drove the point home in his letter: “Now these things happened to them as an example, but they were written down for our instruction, on whom the end of the ages has come. Therefore, let anyone who thinks that he stands take heed lest he fall” (1 Cor. 10:11-12).
When we read the stories of Israel, we should feel some frustration. When we read Exodus 32, we shouldwant to shout, “Don’t open that door!” We should close our Bibles feeling exasperated at their disobedience because their stories are meant to help us see the foolishness of idolatry. Their stories should cause us to check our own hearts for idols.
The warnings might seem to ring truer for the Corinthians who really did bow down to little gold or wooden statues before they believed the gospel. It sounds a bit strange to our Western 21st century ears, right? I can’t think of a time I’ve ever prostrated myself before a tiny idol. But, our misplaced worship doesn’t always look like idolatry. Sometimes our idolatry looks like acceptable, normal life. Even good desires can morph into idols when they take up a primary place of residence in our hearts. When we become loyal to leisure, when we pledge our allegiance to entertainment, when we pursue prosperity above all else, when time with family trumps connection to our spiritual family, when devotion to Scripture takes second place to our devotion to work—we can turn anything into idolatry if we’re not paying attention.
First Corinthians 10 and the entire narrative of redemptive history shout for us to pay attention to our hearts’ desires. The words of Scripture cry out for us to check our idols. We are cut from the same human cloth as all those who have come before us. Ever since the garden and the snake and the tree, we have all struggled to believe that the God who created everything from nothing is enough for us. Maybe we haven’t tried to follow Jesus while also bowing down to Buddha, but we have worshiped Jesus while finding all our security in a blossoming bank account. We have proclaimed that Jesus is our Savior while desperately seeking the affirmation of our peers. We have declared that Jesus has paid for our sins at the cross while prostrating ourselves before our good works. We have held the cup of Jesus’s sacrifice in one hand while holding on to bitterness and deferred hopes in the other.
Like it or not, we all know how to fuse our faith with idolatry. We’re really good at it.
But—that’s not where this ends. It’s not where it has to end for us.
Paul’s warning in 1 Corinthians is indeed built upon the warnings from Israel’s story throughout the Bible. But, there is good news for us. We don’t have to bow down to our desires. We don’t have to grumble about our deferred hopes. We don’t have doubt that God will be faithful to us. Because there is always a way out.
“No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man,” Paul continues. “God is faithful, and He will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation He will also provide a way of escape, that you may be able to endure it” (1 Cor. 10:13). God is as faithful today as He was in the wilderness outside of Egypt. He will provide for us as He has always done for His people. So what do we do in the moment of temptation to grumble, doubt, to bow down to our desires? “Therefore, my beloved, flee from idolatry” (1 Cor. 10:14). Run from it. Flee. Turn away. Remember the Israelites. Remember the Corinthians. Remember that worshiping anything or anyone other than our Lord will lead to ruin. It’s not cowardly to run. It’s freedom.
When you read through the stories of the Bible, remember that Scripture was written down for you as an example. Check your idols. See yourself grumbling in the desert, bowing down to the golden calf, tempted by the empty promises of prosperity, standing at the cross yelling “Crucify Him!” See the warnings for what they are. Jesus died for our idolatry, so let’s leave it there at the cross and return to it no more.
Check your idols, friends. Only Jesus satisfies.
Check your idols, friends. Only Jesus satisfies. Share on XGlenna Marshall is married to her pastor, William, and lives in rural Southeast Missouri where she tries and fails to keep up with her two energetic sons. She is the author of The Promise is His Presence (P&R) and Everyday Faithfulness (Crossway), and Memorizing Scripture (Moody). Connect with her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.