Before we dive into the turkey, stuffing, and sweet potato pie, here’s a quick reminder to quiet the murmur in our hearts and make room for real gratitude.
Sunday morning service trudged along as usual. It was time for the sermon. My uncle (my father figure, mentor, and pastor at the time) began with his foundational scripture: 1 Corinthians 10:1–10.
It started rather conventionally, a listing of what I call the “Pentecostal Marquee Sins”:
Lust
Gluttony/Excess
Fornication (that’s a major one)
Standard stuff.
But then he hit one that blew me away:
“Murmuring.”
Wait. That can’t be right. I rumbled through my Bible (a physical Bible! That should tell you how long ago this was), trying to find the scripture that was on the screen.
Yep, it was there:
“Neither murmur ye, as some of them also murmured, and were destroyed of the destroyer.” - 1 Cor: 10:10
“Here’s the definition,” my pastor continued, “just to give you an understanding.”
“MURMUR,” he began, “a softly spoken or almost inaudible utterance.”
He continued, with his voice rising for effect, “the quiet or subdued expression of a particular feeling by a group of people.” His tone changed to signify an even more nefarious connotation to the definition,“a low, continuous sound expressing one’s discontent about (someone or something) in a subdued manner.”
He paused while peering at us over his glasses perched at the tip of his nose.
“See why that would get on God’s nerves?”
The congregation laughed. I did not. The question lingered and spawned others:
“Do I murmur?”
“If so, how often?”
“Was I getting on God’s nerves?”
It’s such a stark memory I can still feel the wooden pew beneath me.
As a fairly new disciple of Jesus, I was focused on guarding against what essentially was: Sex, Drugs, & Rock ’n’ Roll. If you’re Pentecostal, we wrapped all of these up in the purposely murky term “worldly.”
In the Charismatic church tradition, being “worldly” meant that when the final rapturous trumpet blew, you’d immediately flip to being a character in the Left Behind series. So you tried to manage your passions and proclivities, doing your best not to be deemed worldly.
But not once had anyone brought up murmuring. Not once. I would have remembered.
The notion that murmuring and grumbling was, at best, a possible irritant to God and, at worst, an eternity-determining transgression floored me.
As I grew in the faith and in my personal relationship with Christ, I learned it wasn’t so much the murmuring itself but what it signified.
I once heard someone put it this way:
“Murmuring is the soundtrack of unbelief — the low hum of a heart no longer grateful.”
Let’s be real, murmuring is much easier than gratitude. It’s low-hanging, bitter fruit.
It’s that sneaking suspicion that God is holding out on us. It was this subtle thought planted in the heart of Eve that initiated her reach for the fruit.
So, sure, I could remind you to be thankful because, you know… Thanksgiving and all.
But I thought maybe I’d give you a heads-up on what we’re replacing — the thing that comes so naturally the other 364 days of the year. So we can recognize it when it crops up and, most importantly, swap it out as quickly as possible.
Murmuring is sneaky, and it lodges quickly. And because it’s a low, barely audible tone, we don’t always see the need to eradicate it.
But its inclusion in 1 Corinthians 10 seems to imply it’s every bit as dangerous as the transgressions that preceded it.
What causes a murmur? We need look no further than the children of Israel themselves. In fact, the apostle Paul says:
“These things happened to them as examples for us. They were written down to warn us who live at the end of the age.”
From what I gathered, the things that caused murmuring and grumbling in them are the same things that can cause it in me:
Forgetfulness
Uncertainty
Inconvenience
Perceived monotony
Discontent friends (or as Numbers 11:4 refers to them, “the rabble among them”)
What does this sound like?
In the Old Testament it sounded like:
“Why did you bring us here?”
“We want what we used to have.”
“This food again?”
“We can’t do that. It’s impossible.”
All of these imply (more than we’d like to admit) God may not be as good as He said He is.
I know that sounds harsh, but it has to be that serious. Every time they murmured, it led to chaos and death.
That’s why gratitude is so important.
It’s literally the difference between life and death.
When circumstances bring a low hum, it must be replaced with intentional thoughts of God’s goodness and memories of His faithfulness.
Because, friends…
He has been good, hasn’t He?
Better than we could have ever expected.
Far better than we deserve.
So, root out the murmur, early and often.
I am challenging you (and myself) to intentionally cultivate a life of gratitude to God so that "Thanksgiving" is more than a day; it's a consistent state of being.