When We Feel Like Stink Bugs and Lanternflies
October 11, 2026
Preached by Benjamin Vrbicek
Discussion Questions
When in the past have you felt like a little grasshopper? When is a more recent time? Why? What do you think God was teaching you then? Now? What do you think God was teaching the Israelites?
The Israelites don’t seem to believe that it will be good for them to follow God fully; they think it will go badly for their little ones and their wives. In what ways are we prone to think that following God means being smarter than him and doing what we think will keep our children safe and give them a better life? How does this passage speak to the danger of that way of thinking? Where are you guilty of something similar?
Find and read at least five verses that speak of God being “with us,” either in the exact wording or thematically (e.g., Ps. 46). Read them to one another. How is this “with us” most especially true in light of the good news story of Jesus?
Pastor Benjamin mentioned we need more Calebs and Joshuas in our lives and church. Who in your life needs you to bring the encouragement that “in Christ, we can do this” (whatever this is)?
Scripture Reading
Numbers 13:17-33
17 Moses sent them to spy out the land of Canaan and said to them, “Go up into the Negeb and go up into the hill country, 18 and see what the land is, and whether the people who dwell in it are strong or weak, whether they are few or many, 19 and whether the land that they dwell in is good or bad, and whether the cities that they dwell in are camps or strongholds, 20 and whether the land is rich or poor, and whether there are trees in it or not. Be of good courage and bring some of the fruit of the land.” Now the time was the season of the first ripe grapes.
21 So they went up and spied out the land from the wilderness of Zin to Rehob, near Lebo-hamath.22 They went up into the Negeb and came to Hebron. Ahiman, Sheshai, and Talmai, the descendants of Anak, were there. (Hebron was built seven years before Zoan in Egypt.) 23 And they came to the Valley of Eshcol and cut down from there a branch with a single cluster of grapes, and they carried it on a pole between two of them; they also brought some pomegranates and figs. 24 That place was called the Valley of Eshcol, because of the cluster that the people of Israel cut down from there.
25 At the end of forty days they returned from spying out the land. 26 And they came to Moses and Aaron and to all the congregation of the people of Israel in the wilderness of Paran, at Kadesh. They brought back word to them and to all the congregation, and showed them the fruit of the land. 27 And they told him, “We came to the land to which you sent us. It flows with milk and honey, and this is its fruit. 28 However, the people who dwell in the land are strong, and the cities are fortified and very large. And besides, we saw the descendants of Anak there. 29 The Amalekites dwell in the land of the Negeb. The Hittites, the Jebusites, and the Amorites dwell in the hill country. And the Canaanites dwell by the sea, and along the Jordan.”
30 But Caleb quieted the people before Moses and said, “Let us go up at once and occupy it, for we are well able to overcome it.” 31 Then the men who had gone up with him said, “We are not able to go up against the people, for they are stronger than we are.” 32 So they brought to the people of Israel a bad report of the land that they had spied out, saying, “The land, through which we have gone to spy it out, is a land that devours its inhabitants, and all the people that we saw in it are of great height. 33 And there we saw the Nephilim (the sons of Anak, who come from the Nephilim), and we seemed to ourselves like grasshoppers, and so we seemed to them.”
Maybe you’ve been on a road trip or a vacation or some other kind of tour, and you’ve heard the person in charge say something like, “Oh, we’re not lost—we’re not lost. We’re taking the scenic route.” Maybe you’ve been that person in charge, and you’ve led people on that scenic route.
We’ve been teaching the book of Numbers. After today’s passage, if you’d asked an ancient Israelite what’s going on with this road trip to the promised land, they might have said, “Oh, we’re not lost; we’re taking the scenic route.” That generous description has humor, but it gets at the heart of the issue. Sometimes, the generous description is better called a refusal to reckon with reality. Sometimes the scenic route is actually lost. And as much as we’d prefer to describe ourselves in the most generous light possible, that can cause a whole bunch of problems. It’s what happen to God’s people on a long road trip to the promised land.
In this morning’s passage, the refusal to reckon with reality shows up in two contrasts. The passage presents stark contrasts between how we often see things and how God sees them. We see this contrast in the areas of victory and sin. We tend to view what makes us victorious one way, when God views victory differently. And we tend to describe our sin one way, when God describes it differently. So we’ll look at each of these contrasts: contrasts about what leads to victory and contrasts about how to see our sin. Let’s start with what we think makes for victory.
Our view of what brings victory versus God’s view
In Numbers 13–14, we come to a pivotal point on the road trip to the promised land. The spies conclude that, compared with the land’s abundance and the strength of its people, they are small. The Israelites say, “and we seemed to ourselves like grasshoppers, and so we seemed to them” (Num. 13:33).
I’ve said in a sermon before how irrationally afraid I am of flying insects. I know grasshoppers don’t exactly fly, but if you’re in a field and a huge, monster-looking grasshopper lands on you, it might feel like it flew. I don’t know why I’m so afraid of flying bugs, especially bees, hornets, and horse flies. I like to imagine that I wouldn’t be afraid to, you know, wrestle a grizzly bear in a snake pit. But for some reason, a wasp will make me run. Anyway. I’ll tell you what won’t make me run: lanternflies and stink bugs. They are so slow. And it’s my understanding that the lanternfly doesn’t even really fly. They sort of climb high up a tree or pole, then float down while flapping their wings. And if you want to squash on one, you just walk over and step on it. Not scary at all.
When we moved here a dozen years ago, we kept hearing about flying stink bugs, which, of course, given my hesitancy with flying insects, I thought they would be very scary; they sounded like tiny flying skunks that would lift their bug tail and soak you in stink. But it turns out, if you see a stink bug, you can just grab a Kleenex, walk over and pick it off the window, and flush it. Super easy, not scary.
So, jokes aside, what happens when this flips? You ever felt like a grasshopper? Have you ever felt up against something so big and so scary that it made you feel so small?
Last summer, I went on a mission trip with our church to Istanbul, Turkey, with Pastor Ron, his wife Amy, and my wife. We had a wonderful time hearing what God is doing there. But I will tell you that it was pretty easy to feel like a little lanternfly there. Ron even tried to prepare me. Months before, he asked if I’d ever been to a country with such heavy Muslim influence, and I said no, and he told me ways to be ready. But I’m not sure I was. In a city of 13 million people, there are only a handful of Christians, at least compared to here. In every direction you looked across the skyline, poking up into the air, stood a dozen mosque minarets. I remember being in the hotel room that first night and hearing the noise of a huge city and the cars and people and all that got drowned out when the Muslim prayers came over the loudspeakers throughout the city. You could say I felt a bit like a tiny grasshopper.
We often want to have giants on our team—giants who can win our battles. We want superior firepower, superior technology, superior riches, superior leaders and heroes. But we often don’t realize one of the consequences of loving giants and heroes—the fear that comes when we don’t have them. When we feel like grasshoppers and stink bugs, paralyzing fear and panic can set in, exposing our real trust. That’s what happens to the Israelites. Look at the end of Numbers 13 and the beginning of 14.
…and we seemed to ourselves like grasshoppers, and so we seemed to them.” 14 Then all the congregation raised a loud cry, and the people wept that night. 2 And all the people of Israel grumbled against Moses and Aaron. (13:33b–14:2).
Knowing their smallness, and that they didn’t have giants, led to panic and grumbling.
In that hotel room in Istanbul, I felt like a grasshopper compared to extensive and powerful Muslim influence. I often feel this way in ministry. When I think of the massive political juggernaut that is the pro-choice movement, I can feel like our little prayers and little “sanctity of life Sunday” in mid-January are nothing compared to that kind of power. When I think about the marketing machine of the LGBTQ movement, and the corporate high holy days of Pride Month in June, and the way the average person’s default views about sexuality seem to have changed so much in the last twenty years, as a Christian—as an evangelical good news pastor—I can feel like a grasshopper. When I think about the stories and statistics of euthanasia in Canada, of their commitment to assisted suicide and the culture of death sweeping across the world, I can feel like a grasshopper.
When I think more about us, I feel how daunting it is to call a church to love and serve sacrificially, not to be consumers, when surrounded by a culture that spends billions and billions to keep us loving our comfort. At times, pastoring can feel like fighting a forest fire, trying to protect lives and property with a squirt gun. I mean, we dream of raising up missionaries to reach unreached peoples for Jesus and plant churches in hard places, but how can that happen when leaving a close-knit family in central PA feels so unsettling? And it’s not just you. I can love my iPhone and Netflix as much as anyone.
All of these, however, reflect an atheistic view of victory. I call it an atheistic view of victory because it has no view of God in the picture. Which is precisely what goes wrong for Israelites. God’s view of victory is not about having giants, but about having his presence among his people. You need to see it in the passage. Look at, for example, how Caleb and Joshua plead with the people in 14:8–9.
8 If the LORD delights in us, he will bring us into this land and give it to us, a land that flows with milk and honey. 9 Only do not rebel against the LORD. And do not fear the people of the land, for they are bread for us. Their protection is removed from them, and the LORD is with us; do not fear them.” (Num. 14:8–9)
“The LORD is with us,” they say. They assume victory depends on God’s presence, not on whether they have or lack giants. Caleb and Joshua do not argue about the facts of the report. The facts are not wrong: Those people are big; their cities are fortified. But in God’s view, having those never meant victory, and lacking them never meant defeat. Victory is always about God’s presence among his people.
In the New Testament, we’re told many times, in many ways, of God’s understanding of victory. Here are three passages: two short passages and one longer.
In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world. (John 16:33).
Little children, you are from God and have overcome [evil spirits], for he who is in you is greater than he who is in the world. (1 John 4:4)
What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?... Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword?... No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Rom. 8:31–39)
Far from this being simply a nice theological truth to know, this understanding of victory makes us different people. Rather than paralyzing us with fear, knowing God’s favor in Christ fills us with courage. We become like Caleb and Joshua.
Oh, we need more Calebs and Joshuas among us, don’t we? I need them in my life. Maybe, for a moment this morning, I can be one of them to you, saying, “You can do it.” Oh, not on your own, but in Christ, you can. “If the LORD delights in us,” Caleb says. If “the LORD is with us,” he says. That sinful conflict you’ve had with a brother or sister in the faith, you can start the repair process by saying, “I’m sorry.” You can tell a friend or pastor, “I drink too much and don’t know how to stop.” That crazy idea to serve Jesus and bless people, an idea that God seems to have placed on your heart for years, you can take first steps in faith, if his presence goes with you.
You do realize, don’t you, that courage isn’t simply part of some people’s temperament. “Oh, this person or that person is more courageous than others,” we think. I’m sure that is true to some degree, that some of us are more naturally courageous than others. Some of us are more naturally afraid of flying insects. I’m not preaching about what is natural, but what is supernatural. I’m preaching a view of victory that depends on God’s gracious presence among his people—and with that, we become as bold as lions, whether we seem like grasshoppers or whether we are grasshoppers. Do not be afraid to be the faithful minority. An old theologian and pastor once said, “A man with God is always in the majority.” (I heard this recently in a sermon attributed to John Knox.)
Our view of sin versus God’s view
Let’s keep going and look at one more important contrast in this passage. We talked about what we often believe brings victory versus what God says brings victory. We think it’s giants when it’s actually God’s presence. A significant contrast also exists in how we understand sin: what we often think of sin versus what God thinks of it.
Let’s first look at how the people describe their sin. They describe their sin as wise and logical. They describe their sin as caring for their family, their little ones and their wives. They describe their sin as middle-class concerns for a good life. I’ll start reading in 14:1.
14 Then all the congregation raised a loud cry, and the people wept that night. 2 And all the people of Israel grumbled against Moses and Aaron. The whole congregation said to them, “Would that we had died in the land of Egypt! Or would that we had died in this wilderness! 3 Why is the LORD bringing us into this land, to fall by the sword? Our wives and our little ones will become a prey. Would it not be better for us to go back to Egypt?” 4 And they said to one another, “Let us choose a leader and go back to Egypt.” (14:1–4)
Do you see how they describe their sin? They seem to imagine that not following God and not obeying God is, well, not so wrong. Really, if you think about it from their perspective, they just want to give their children a good life, to protect them, to go where it’s better. “I know God promised the land,” they say, “but now that we’ve looked more closely at the land, it doesn’t seem like we can take it by ourselves. And, so, the faithful thing to do,” they say, “must be the safe thing.”
This is not so strange to us, I bet. I was talking about this with Pastor Tony recently. He reminded me of a few stories from before he worked here. He counseled people coming out of prison and reentering society. He’d talk with the guys and learn what they had done. He’d learn about the kind of community most of them were going back to, which he felt would only reinforce the behaviors that started the whole process. And Tony said that what he knew these men needed most was a new community. They needed to be invited to church, even picked up and brought out to lunch afterward. But he knew that could be awkward. And he knew, perhaps even more than inviting them to church, that he should invite some of them into his home for a meal. But what would that be like? I mean, safety is also important. And you can’t just invite people who’ve been in jail for domestic violence over to your house for a hamburger.
I was down in our adult Sunday school the other day, and one of our volunteer pastors taught a lesson on hospitality. He mentioned that we can’t really be expected to be hospitable to people who can’t repay us and might rip us off. I mean, God wants us to be financially responsible with our stuff because it’s his stuff, so we need to protect it, save it, and spend it where we’ll see a return on our hospitality investment, right? Our volunteer pastor, who was teaching, said that sometimes what we call frugal, wise stewardship is really a mask for greed, self-protection, and disobedience.
Jesus tells the story of the good Samaritan. The priest and Levite pass by the hurting man, and they have good, rational religious reasons for doing so (see Luke 10). And this Samaritan—what is he thinking, giving such irresponsible help? He just gives his credit card to the innkeeper and tells him to charge whatever is needed? That’s so unwise.
Now, of course, I’m not advocating being dumb. We don’t have a word from the Lord to always have everyone over for dinner or give money to everyone. But do you sense the danger in our ability to rationalize our sin and make obedience optional?
Our church has the men’s retreat this weekend, which I was at until late last night—and at one point I looked around and thought, huh, there are at least two guys here who are former felons. They’re active leaders in our church, and almost no one would know about their past because Jesus has changed them so radically, through people who risked loving them.
Coming back to this passage, you’re probably not surprised that God sees your sin differently than you often see it. God did not see their sin as understandable and wise.
Let me read some verses because seeing them will help us see the contrast.
God sees sin as rebellion and fear of man: “Only do not rebel against the LORD. And do not fear the people of the land” (14:9).
God sees sin as despising him and not believing in him: “And the LORD said to Moses, ‘How long will this people despise me? And how long will they not believe in me, in spite of all the signs that I have done among them?’” (14:11).
God sees sin as iniquity: “Please pardon the iniquity of this people,” Moses prays (14:19).
God sees sin as testing him and not obeying his voice and despising him: “none of the men who have seen my glory and my signs that I did in Egypt and in the wilderness, and yet have put me to the test these ten times and have not obeyed my voice, shall see the land that I swore to give to their fathers. And none of those who despised me shall see it” (Num. 14:22–23).
God sees sin as wickedness and grumbling: “the LORD spoke to Moses and to Aaron, saying, ‘How long shall this wicked congregation grumble against me?’” (Num. 14:26–27).
God sees sin as faithlessness: “And your children shall be shepherds in the wilderness forty years and shall suffer for your faithlessness, until the last of your dead bodies lies in the wilderness” (Num. 14:33).
I read these longhand for the effect. And there are others; this wasn’t all of them. God sees sin as iniquity (v. 34), as fighting against him (v. 35), and as presumption (v. 44). Clearly, what we rationalize, God sees as sin. What we call the scenic route, he calls lost. And sometimes the scenic route leads to hell. But it never has to lead there. As long as you are alive, grace and mercy can be the final word. Jesus said the very purpose he came was to seek and save the lost (19:10), and he’s good at his job.
One little detail amazes me. God promises to do exactly what they feared wouldn’t happen. They feared that obeying God would harm their families. In v. 31, God says, “But your little ones, who you said would become a prey, I will bring in, and they shall know the land that you have rejected.” God can be trusted even with what is precious to us. Those fears you have for those you love, those fears about what will happen to your reputation, and whether people won’t like you or whether you’ll lose your job: God can carry them. I don’t know what winding path obeying God might lead you on. The worst may happen, or it might not. But we can trust God to be God, even with what we consider precious and fragile.
Conclusion
In the Gospels we read a story about a woman described as sinful. And she shows up at a party in the home of a religious leader named Simon. She’s not there to see Simon. She’s there to see Jesus.
It’s the story of her pouring perfume on his feet and wiping his feet with her hair. It’s a wonderful scene, a strange scene, an awkward scene. The religious leader is confused, and Jesus rebukes him, pointing out that she has loved much because she has been forgiven much (Luke 7).
Jesus never intended the woman, or Simon for that matter, to sit and stew on their sin as the point of it all. The point was to lead her toward something better, to know the presence of Jesus, to know the presence of God, to know forgiveness and joy, to know victory and hope. Jesus didn’t die so that we could merely feel bad, but so we could live.
Perhaps you’ve been in a season of pretending you’re on the scenic route and God wants you to just call it lost, not in the ways that matter most. If you receive God’s view of sin and his victory, in the context of the good news of Jesus, you’ll never be lost again.
Pray with me as the music team returns to lead us in closing songs. Let’s pray…
