Unrushed
I used to read Israel’s story and wonder why they kept getting it wrong over and over again, despite everything God had done for them.
From where I was standing, it didn’t make sense, and I can admit that I judged them, thinking I would’ve done better. We see the people of Israel struggle to be faithful to Yahweh in favor of these gods, and from a modern, limited perspective, it’s hard to understand the appeal these other “gods” held in comparison to what Yahweh had already tangibly done for them.
I kept wondering:
Why did it take so long for them to accept Yahweh alone?
As I read and reread the Bible, especially passages that trace Israel’s rebellion, my mild curiosity about Israel’s perspective grew into a need to know—because the constant missteps made it hard to believe they were just intentionally rebellious, or even simply caught in a pattern of drifting. Instead they seemed more like a people shaped by a different framework altogether. I began reading more deeply into their historic and religious context, and how I understood their world began to shift. What I found didn’t just change how I see ancient Israel, but the way I see and interact with myself and every other person seeking God. What I want to offer here is an invitation to step into that perspective and see Israel’s story, and our own, with new eyes.
CONTEXT WORTH SITTING WITH:
To understand Israel’s story honestly, I have to take off my modern, 21st-century glasses, slow down, and take seriously the world ancient Israelites actually lived in. Just like us, Israel didn’t learn, grow, or make sense of God outside of the culture that shaped them. Their understanding of God, loyalty, and faith was formed by the world they were born into, the traditions passed down to them, and the world they had always known.
Israel knew Yahweh as the God of their ancestors, the covenant God who brought them out of Egypt. He was their deliverer and was understood to be supreme, but He was far from being understood as God alone. Relating in this way was completely normal in their world. Acknowledging multiple gods wasn’t seen as unfaithfulness. It was viewed as practical. When I stopped reading Israel’s story as constant rebellion and started seeing how instinctive their choices were within their world, their struggle became more understandable.
The religious landscape Israel inherited as they left Egypt and stepped into Canaan, the promised land, was already full of deities and in the ancient Near East, different gods were associated with different needs. Baal was linked to rain and crops. Ashera was associated with fertility and family life. Chemosh represented military strength and national security. And in moments of fear, desperation, or crisis, even the god Molech entered the picture.
It surprised me to learn that having a national god was normal in the region. Each people group had a primary god, not just Israel, while also believing in others. So Yahweh being Israel’s God didn’t make them any different from the surrounding nations. He was one god among many in the pantheon they understood to exist. What was unusual is what Yahweh began to say about Himself through the prophets. No other god claimed not just to be the strongest, but the only, while demanding full trust and undivided loyalty. At this, everyone raised a collective eyebrow.
To reject other gods wasn’t just a theological shift. It was an economic risk, a political risk, and a social risk. Those factors might be baked into our modern day world, but likely not quite in the same way.
For many of us Christians, especially in the Western part of the world, choosing to follow God does not determine whether we eat, whether we are protected, or whether we belong. Our livelihoods are not directly tied to which deity we honor. Our safety is not threatened by refusing the gods our neighbors trust.
But for them, faith was not private. It was public, communal, and tied to survival. To choose Yahweh alone meant risking famine, isolation, and instability. It meant allowing God to redefine where their safety and identity truly came from.
With this context, it became easier to understand the world they lived in. Those little judgements and (incorrect) estimations of myself faded quickly. Heh. And if I’m honest, I could easily pose my original question to us today, and it might be even harder to answer without this kind of context.
In an oversaturated religious culture where every god was treated as real, where survival required hedging your bets and theology had not yet clarified who God truly was, mixed worship became the norm and faithfulness developed slowly.
But God didn’t wait for perfect understanding to begin forming His people. Israel didn’t yet understand who God truly was or what exclusive loyalty would eventually mean, and God began working with them anyway. Faith and theology were shaped slowly through experience, correction, and time. Mixed worship remained not because Yahweh was unknown, but because the magnitude of who He was was still being clarified.
If there’s anywhere this tension becomes impossible to miss, it’s in the books of 1 & 2 Kings. The story moves quickly from one ruler to the next, and the shifts are almost disorienting. At times you can’t help but think, What is going on here? One king tears down idols and re-centers worship around Yahweh. The next rebuilds Asherah poles and reintroduces the very practices his father tried to remove. This happens over and over again and everyone’s got spiritual whiplash at this point.
But this instability didn’t happen in a vacuum. There is context pointing to the fact that these kings were leading a people whose understanding of God was still forming, and they themselves were shaped by that same unfinished formation. Loyalty had been commanded, but understanding hadn’t caught up yet. Reform could be enforced for a generation, but it hadn’t yet been rooted deeply enough to last, either among the people or within the monarchy.
In that environment it seems leadership was often reactive instead of formative. Kings could remove practices, but they couldn’t shape trust at a local level. They could mandate change, but they couldn’t accelerate the nation’s understanding. The story of Israel’s kings isn’t just a record of good and bad rulers. It’s a picture of what leadership looks like when it’s guiding a people who are still learning who God really is.
The Work of Formation
If Israel’s story shows us anything, it’s that God doesn’t rush formation. Looking at their long and complicated history gives us clarity about what we can expect our own relationship with God to look like: continuously unfolding. And can we expect anything that grows or unfolds over time to be nice and neat? No, and thankfully God doesn’t seem threatened by the mess.
What’s beautiful is that God doesn’t wait for Israel to have perfect understanding before He begins forming them, or you, or me. He meets all of us inside borrowed beliefs, distorted images of power and safety, and incomplete understandings of who He is. He corrects, clarifies, and reorients over time. Israel wasn’t a blank slate, and neither are we. God meets people where they actually are; not where they think they should be and He patiently and faithfully walks with us from there.
At the center of all of this is relationship. Not performance. Not instant clarity. A real relationship.
I’m sure you’ve heard the saying, “real relationships aren’t perfect and perfect relationships aren’t real.” If the Bible doesn’t contain perfect pictures of imperfect relationships, I don’t know what does. Real relationships, the ones that last are the ones marked by commitment, patience, and return. They take time. What God seems to desire most is not flawless faith, but faithful presence. There’s a moment in Jeremiah where God asks His people a heartbreaking question:
“What did your ancestors find wrong with me that led them to stray so far from me?”
This doesn’t sound like the voice of an absent God or a detached judge. It’s the voice of a God who has been present, faithful, and patient, wondering why His people felt the need to look elsewhere for life.
I don’t know where you are in your walk with God, but “perfect theology from day one” was never the expectation. Neither was living out your faith flawlessly. God doesn’t hand everything to a child and demand immediate understanding. He says, Walk with Me. Learn. Be corrected. Grow. That is exactly what we see unfolding across Scripture. The standard is clear, but the process is ongoing.
If God was willing to take centuries with Israel, we can trust that He is not in a hurry with us either.
An Invitation To Slow Down
When Israel’s story is viewed through this lens, something beautiful comes into focus. Taking the time to slow down, to consider their context, and to understand how faith actually formed reveals the patience, love, and faithfulness of God in a deep way. It becomes clear that God’s desire to be in relationship with His people is far more expansive than we can grasp. He wants to be known. And He does not seem nearly as concerned with the time it takes for that knowing to unfold as He is with our commitment to the relationship.
Our lives are but a whisper compared to the centuries Israel lived through. We don’t have generations to slowly come into clarity in the same way, but that doesn’t mean our walk is meant to be hurried. I consider Israel’s story as an invitation to be honest about where we are, attentive to how God is forming us, and committed to returning to Him again and again within the time we’re given. Israel walked so we could run, but let’s do a steady jog where the only goal is to finish the race.
This is the framework and posture Faith on the Page is rooted in: a shared trust that our relationship with God is unfolding, and that historical and cultural context, alongside a faithful pursuit of lived relationship, matters more than having everything figured out within a neat timeline. Everything here flows from that understanding. This is meant to be an unrushed walk, marked by attentiveness and faithfulness, not by abstract timelines or external expectations. Faith on the Page is here as a companion in that process, walking alongside, reflecting honestly, and returning together.
Now I’m curious. What questions or themes have been coming up for you lately when you read the Bible? I’d love to hear.
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That was masterfully written in an extremely relatable way. I was enthralled in a way that i didn’t expect that felt quite refreshing and had me a bit thirsty for more.
Thanks Raye, I’m so glad to hear that it resonates with you. Digging into ancient history had/has me thirsty for more too! The more we know, right? Cheers to inviting more context and letting it refresh and refine our perspectives!