Complaining Like Moses

I recently perused some of my old journal entries that I posted during the last decade and came to the following conclusion: I complained a lot. Not the lighthearted “thus and such happened and here’s what I learned from it” type of anecdote. Rather, the flat out whining, foot stomping, electronic temper tantrums. With no comedic value whatsoever. What a waste.

Rewind a bit farther to earlier this year, when I was led to revisit the book of Exodus. After a long hiatus, I was able to read it with a fresh perspective. I realized, to my great surprise and amusement, that Moses was a big. Fat. WHINER.

Not to be disrespectful, but Moses was not the dignified, flawless giant that I’d imagined in my youth. Not Charlton Heston. No, this Moses was imperfect and insecure. Constantly making excuses for why he couldn’t or shouldn’t do what was asked of him. And the more I read, the more irritating he became.

Yet in spite his shortcomings, he was chosen by God for a task that would change the world. And every disaster that befell him ultimately placed him exactly where he needed to be. I’m sure it never crossed his mind that he would ultimately go down in history as a hero. In fact, imagine if Moses had Facebook. What would his status updates look like?

“Oh noes – killed an Egyptian today. NOW WHAT?”

“Burning bush in the middle of nowhere. For reals. Of all days to forget my iphone!”

“Argh. Back to the old hood. Gotta deliver bad news – they’ll never believe me!”

“No clue at all what I’m going to say. Better bring Aaron – he never shuts up…”

“NO NO NO NO NOOOOO…”

Moses would have been blocked from my feed in very short order. Which makes me wonder: What purpose do MY words serve? Most of it’s nonsense, granted, but what is my goal when spouting the occasional malcontented rant?  Popularity? Pity? Attention? There’s certainly no value in any of those.  I may not have a lot to say, but the least I can do is be wiser in my verbal contributions. And unless there’s any wisdom to be gleaned, or comedy gold to be shared, complaining online is pretty much useless.

And odds are, if I don’t scale it back a bit, Big Fat Whiner might very well be my epitaph.