The problem with Nehushtans

Do You Have a Nehushtan? 

This past week, as I was getting ready for a sermon at First Christian Church, Irving—a church I served right after seminary—I found myself thinking about a life‑changing experience and a prayer I had written in a journal about four months before it happened. The prayer was, “Lord, show me that what I am doing is real.” It preceded a mission trip to Girardville, PA, where God showed up over and over and over again.

But I couldn’t find the piece of paper. I couldn’t put my hands on the page. I went looking for it (again), but I knew I wouldn’t find it because I’ve gone looking for that prayer journal several times already and haven’t been able to find it. When I’ve done this and still not found the prayer, I’ve sometimes questioned my grasp on reality. If I can’t touch the artifact, did the event really happen?

But underneath that, I think I’m trying to convince myself there’s some divine power in that page that I can tap into if I just hold it again. I don’t dwell on this for long—it’s just one of those birds that fly overhead that I try not to let make a nest in my hair. Somewhere in the middle of the search (that may have lasted all of five minutes), my internal dialogue partner said, “Andy, is it possible this paper has become your Nehushtan? 

The word Nehushtan only shows up once in the Bible (2 Kings 18:4). King Hezekiah, one of the few kings the Bible affirms as devoted to God, destroyed the Nehushtan as part of his work to make Judah and Israel monotheistic. The Nehushtan was the name they had given to the bronze serpent God had instructed Moses to build and raise up in the wilderness to heal people who had been bitten by venomous reptiles (Numbers 21:4–9). In Numbers, the bronze serpent is just an object. By 2 Kings, it’s got a name: Nehushtan. (The word Nehushtan, by the way, sounds like both the Hebrew word for bronze and the Hebrew word for serpent.)

Apparently, this bronze serpent was preserved, eventually made its way into a temple—maybe even the Jerusalem Temple—and was venerated and finally idolized. They burned incense to it. Some biblical scholars think Nehushtan reflects wider ancient Near Eastern serpent cults that found their way into Israel’s worship. Others notice parallels with symbols like the Greek rod of Asclepius and wonder about shared or overlapping stories. But if you just stick with the story as it’s told, the bronze serpent clearly moves from being an instrument of God’s redemption to becoming an idol.

There is an important interplay between memory and hope. The Bible is like the memory bank for Christians. In Joshua 4, after the miraculous crossing of the Jordan River, the people set up a monument of stones and Joshua explained, “In the future, when your children ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ tell them . . .” and he goes on to recount the story of this chapter of their deliverance. When Jesus gave the Lord’s Supper, he said, “Do this in remembrance of me.” When Jesus experienced the anointing at Bethany, he said that wherever the gospel is preached, the story would be retold in memory of her (Mark 14:1–9). Tangible symbols like stones, a basin and towel, and bread and cup help us remember what God has done. Symbols remind us how God is acting and has acted. They fuel hope for the ways God will work in the future.

Yet, we sometimes confuse the symbol for the substance. And sometimes it’s not just any version of the symbol but a particular physical piece of property. We start, almost without noticing, to drift toward sorcery (the idea that we can manipulate the divine “power” in physical things for our purposes) or idolatry (treating created things as if they were the Creator). Taken to extremes it can look like many things. It might look like a person who can’t believe they are reading the Bible unless they are reading a particular tattered copy of the Bible. It might be devotion to a pew where a revered saint of the church used to sit. Like a child’s special blanket or stuffed animal, adults can create physical fixations to things—a picture on a wall, a chalice and paten set, or even a person.

The trouble with Nehushtans is that we begin to trust them in place of trusting the one living God to whom they point us. They shackle us to the past in ways that prevent us from stepping into the future. When we gather too many Nehushtans, they clutter our spiritual space and cloud our view. 

So, humbly, if you’re like me and prone to Nehushtan‑making, let me offer three simple moves—and honestly, this is mostly self‑talk.

First, express gratitude for the object. Remember how God might have helped you through that particular object. Gratitude helps move us from worshiping the gift to praising the Giver. 

Second, relinquish. Put it away on purpose. Sit in a different spot, use a different chalice, read from another Bible. Let what’s lost stay lost, and maybe even “lose” a few things you know you need to be free from.

And finally, relate. Tell the story. Share with others what God was doing in your life around the time that object mattered so much, instead of just reinforcing your attachment to the object itself.