“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways my ways, says the Lord. As high as the heavens are above the earth, so high are my ways above your ways and my thoughts above your thoughts” (Isa. 55:8–9). The Israelites and the scribes and Pharisees have a difficult time accepting this reality.
As soon as the Israelites learn that Pharaoh and his army are pursuing them into the desert, they begin to doubt that God’s ways are effective: “Were there no burial places in Egypt that you had to bring us out here to die in the desert? . . . Did we not tell you this in Egypt, when we said, ‘Leave us alone. Let us serve the Egyptians’? Far better for us to be the slaves of the Egyptians than to die in the desert” (Exod. 14:11–12). This complaint is telling, because it explains the Israelites’ initial reaction to Moses’ preaching: “Leave us alone. Let us serve the Egyptians.” They did not want to be delivered from Pharaoh’s hand. Perhaps they wanted familiarity, or perhaps they wanted an imperfect security. For whatever reason, they wanted to live in their own way.
The scribes and the Pharisees are similar. They are just as direct when faced with Jesus’ unexpected message: “Teacher, we wish to see a sign from you” (Matt. 12:38). As if to say, “Teacher, we don’t believe that your message is from God, while we know that our own teaching comes from Moses. Defend yourself.” Jesus responds by comparing His own ministry to that of Jonah, who was heeded by the Ninevites, despite being uninvited. Jesus’ message falls on a different crowd: “The men of Nineveh will arise with this generation and condemn it, because they repented at the preaching of Jonah [and you did not repent at my preaching]; and there is something greater than Jonah here” (Matt. 12:41). Ultimately, the scribes and Pharisees responded as the Israelites did to Moses: “Leave us alone. Let us serve the Law and the Romans.” They stuck to what they knew.
For ourselves, we need to recognize this conflict in ourselves. For as Isaiah reminds us, God’s ways are not our ways: they are infinitely higher, as heaven is higher than earth. As such, they will not always be recognized by us as something familiar, comfortable, or beneficial. We may not recognize the depths of our slavery to our passions, desires, addictions, unchaste or unholy relationships, approval of others, and the like. We may think that our way is the right way, despite the uncomfortable messages we hear in Scripture, from the pulpit, from fellow Christians, or even from our own consciences. We may not desire freedom, like the Israelites, or we may not trust in God’s message, like the scribes and Pharisees.
We are attached to many things, and following the Christian life can be very difficult. It is helpful to remember, then, that it’s always going to be difficult: God’s ways are not our ways. At the same time, it’s always going to be better: as high as the heavens are above the earth.
“Porque mis pensamientos no son sus pensamientos, ni sus caminos mis caminos, dice Jehová. Como la altura de los cielos sobre la tierra, así de altos son mis caminos sobre sus caminos y mis pensamientos sobre sus pensamientos” (Isaías 55,8–9). A los israelitas y los escribas y fariseos se les hace difícil aceptar esta realidad.
Tan pronto como los israelitas se enteran de que Faraón y su ejército los están persiguiendo por el desierto, comienzan a dudar de que los caminos de Dios sean efectivos: “¿No había lugares de sepultura en Egipto que tuviste que traernos aquí para morir en el desierto? . . . ¿No dijimos esto en Egipto, cuando les dijimos: “Déjanos en paz”? Sirvamos a los egipcios. Mucho mejor para nosotros ser esclavos de los egipcios que morir en el desierto” (Éxodo 14,11–12). Esta queja es reveladora, porque explica la reacción inicial de los israelitas a la predicación de Moisés: “Déjanos en paz. Sirvamos a los egipcios. No querían ser librados de la mano de Faraón. Quizás querían familiaridad, o quizás querían una seguridad imperfecta. Por alguna razón, querían vivir a su manera.
Los escribas y los fariseos son similares. Son igualmente directos ante el mensaje inesperado de Jesús: “Maestro, queremos ver de ti una señal” (Mt 12,38). Como diciendo: “Maestro, no creemos que tu mensaje sea de Dios, mientras que sabemos que nuestra propia enseñanza proviene de Moisés. Defiéndete.” Jesús responde comparando su propio ministerio con el de Jonás, a quien los ninivitas hicieron caso, a pesar de no haber sido invitado. El mensaje de Jesús cae sobre una multitud diferente: “Los hombres de Nínive se levantarán con esta generación y la condenarán, porque se arrepintieron a la predicación de Jonás [y ustedes no se arrepintieron a mi predicación]; y hay aquí algo más grande que Jonás” (Mateo 12,41). Al final, los escribas y fariseos responderán como lo hicieron los israelitas a Moisés: “Déjanos en paz. Sirvamos a la Ley y a los Romanos”. Se apegaban a lo que sabían.
Por nosotros mismos, tenemos que reconocer este conflicto dentro de nosotros mismos. Porque como nos recuerda Isaías, los caminos de Dios no son nuestros caminos: son infinitamente más altos, como el cielo es más alto que la tierra. Como tales, no siempre los reconoceremos como algo familiar, cómodo o beneficioso. Es posible que no reconozcamos las profundidades de nuestra esclavitud a nuestras pasiones, deseos, adicciones, relaciones impías, la aprobación de los demás y otras cosas por el estilo. Podemos pensar que nuestro camino es el correcto, a pesar de los mensajes incómodos que escuchamos en las Escrituras, desde el púlpito, de otros cristianos o incluso de nuestra propia conciencia. Puede que no deseemos la libertad, como los israelitas, o que no confiemos en el mensaje de Dios, como los escribas y fariseos.
Estamos apegados a muchas cosas, y seguir la vida cristiana puede ser muy difícil. Es útil recordar, entonces, que siempre será difícil: los caminos de Dios no son los nuestros. Al mismo tiempo, siempre va a ser mejor… tan alto como los cielos sobre la tierra.
David Dashiell is a freelance author and editor in Nashville, Tennessee. He has a master’s degree in theology from Franciscan University, and is the editor of the anthology Ever Ancient, Ever New: Why Younger Generations Are Embracing Traditional Catholicism.
Feature Image Credit: Dimitri Conejo Sanz, cathopic.com/photo/10479-estrellas-en-la-noche
Dakota lives in Denver, CO with her husband, Ralph, and their two sons, Alfie & Theophilus. She is the Dean of Enrollment Management for Bishop Machebeuf High School where her husband also teaches. You can find Dakota at the zoo or a brewery with her family or with her nose in a book at home. For more of Dakota’s writing check out
Kathryn Mulderink, MA, is married to Robert, Station Manager for Holy Family Radio. Together they have seven children (including Father Rob), and seven grandchildren. She is President of the local community of Secular Discalced Carmelites and has published five books and many articles. Over the last 30 years, she has worked as a teacher, headmistress, catechist, Pastoral Associate, and DRE, and as a writer and voice talent for Catholic Radio. Currently, she serves the Church by writing and speaking, and by collaborating with various parishes and to lead others to encounter Christ and engage their faith. Her website is
Kate Taliaferro is an Air Force wife and mother. She is blessed to be able to homeschool, bake bread and fold endless piles of laundry. When not planning a school day, writing a blog post or cooking pasta, Kate can be found curled up with a book or working with some kind of fiber craft. Kate blogs at

A lover of Jesus Christ, a wife, and a mother of five, Christine is the author of Everyday Heroism: 28 Daily Reflections on the Little Way of Motherhood. She is a graduate of Franciscan University, an instructor for the Institute for Excellence in Writing, and an experienced catechist. Thrilled to have recently become grandparents, she and her husband currently live in Upstate, NY. Visit her author webpage at
Mike Karpus is a regular guy. He grew up in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula, graduated from Michigan State University and works as an editor. He is married to a Catholic school principal, raised two daughters who became Catholic school teachers at points in their careers, and now relishes his two grandchildren, including the older one who is fascinated with learning about his faith. He also has served on a Catholic school board, a pastoral council and a parish stewardship committee. He currently is a lector at Mass, a Knight of Columbus, Adult Faith Formation Committee member and a board member of the local Habitat for Humanity organization. But mostly he’s a regular guy.
Susan Ciancio has a BA in psychology and a BA in sociology from the University of Notre Dame, with an MA in liberal studies from Indiana University. For the past 19 years, she has worked as a professional editor and writer, editing both fiction and nonfiction books, magazine articles, blogs, educational lessons, professional materials and website content. Thirteen of those years have been in the pro-life sector. Currently Susan freelances and writes weekly for HLI, edits for American Life League, and is the executive editor of Celebrate Life Magazine. She also serves as executive editor for the Culture of Life Studies Program—an educational nonprofit program for K-12 students. You can reach her at
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Tami Urcia grew up in Western Michigan, a middle child in a large Catholic family. She spent early young adulthood as a missionary in Mexico, studying theology and philosophy, then worked and traveled extensively before finishing her Bachelor’s Degree in Western Kentucky. She loves tackling projects, finding fun ways to keep her little ones occupied, quiet conversation with the hubby and finding unique ways to love. She works at for Christian Healthcare Centers, is a guest blogger on
J.M. Pallas has had a lifelong love of Scriptures. When she is not busy with her vocation as a wife and mother to her “1 Samuel 1” son, or her vocation as a public health educator, you may find her at her parish women’s bible study, affectionately known as “The Bible Chicks.”