There is something unsettling about Deuteronomy 29–30.

The Israelites are in Moab, standing on the edge of the Promised Land after forty years in the wilderness. Behind them lies an extraordinary history with God—a history of blessing and rebellion within a covenant: a sacred relationship in which God had bound Himself to His people and called them to be faithful to Him.

They knew what slavery in Egypt had been like. They had seen God's deliverance. They had crossed the Red Sea. They had been fed in the wilderness. They had received His Law.

They had every reason to trust Him, to be faithful to the covenant.

And still they wandered.

That makes their story uncomfortably familiar.

How much have I seen, known, received—and still wandered?

We sometimes imagine that if only God would make Himself a little clearer—answer this prayer, remove this difficulty, show us unmistakably what He wants—then trusting Him would become easy.

Israel had seen more of God’s power and faithfulness than most of us will ever see.

And still they wandered.

Moses looks beyond the people standing before him and foresees where their wandering can lead: rebellion, broken covenant, terrible consequences and eventually exile.

And then comes a puzzling verse:

“But to this day the Lord has not given you a mind that understands or eyes that see or ears that hear.” (Deuteronomy 29:4)

What are we to do with that?

Were the Israelites responsible for their rebellion—or simply incapable of seeing? Why would God hold them responsible if He had not given them the mind to understand?

Moses doesn't completely unravel that mystery for us. Perhaps that is why, only a few verses later, we encounter these words:

“The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever.” (Deuteronomy 29:29)

There are things about God we will not understand, things left to Him alone.

But mystery does not leave us without direction.

Israel knew what God had revealed. They knew who had rescued them. They knew the God who had walked with them through the wilderness.

And so do we.

But knowing presents another problem.

Knowing God is not the same as desiring God.

We can know what is right and still choose what is wrong. We can remember God's faithfulness and still worry about tomorrow. We can believe in His forgiveness and still carry our guilt. We can say that we trust Him while quietly trying to control everything ourselves.

Perhaps Israel isn't so far away from us after all.

And that is where the story takes its remarkable turn.

Moses has described a people who will wander away from God. Yet he also foresees them turning back. And then, in Deuteronomy 30:6, God makes an astonishing promise:

“The Lord your God will circumcise^(a) your hearts and the hearts of your descendants, so that you may love him with all your heart and with all your soul, and live.”

The people who could not keep themselves from wandering are not left to repair their own hearts. God promises to do something within them—to change the very place from which their love, trust and obedience must come.

There is mystery here—but there is not uncertainty about where to turn.

God has not hidden Himself from them. Moses tells the people they do not have to climb into heaven or cross the sea searching for Him:

“The word is very near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart so you may obey it.” (Deuteronomy 30:14)

Centuries later, Paul will reach back to these very words as he speaks of faith in Christ.

This ancient scene on the plains of Moab doesn't seem quite so ancient.

The God of Deuteronomy is not standing at a distance waiting for His wandering people to find their own way home.

He calls them back.

He promises restoration.

He promises a changed heart.

And then, after describing their failures and His faithfulness, Moses places one breathtaking choice before them:

“I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life...” (Deuteronomy 30:19)

Perhaps that is the great surprise of Deuteronomy 29–30.

After all the wandering, God still places life before them.

And He places it before us.

We do not have to understand every “secret thing” before we can trust Him. We do not have to repair our past before turning toward Him. Our failures do not have to have the last word.

The God who knows how easily the human heart wanders is also the God who promises to change the heart.

And after we have wandered, He still calls us home.

 

Note

^(a) Circumcision of the heart: Here, “circumcise your hearts” describes God removing the spiritual calluses and stubbornness that keep His people from loving and following Him wholeheartedly.