You Can’t Touch This: Lessons from the Ark of the Covenant.

Back in basic training, somewhere around week four or five, the weather was wet, the mornings sharp, and the atmosphere electric with fatigue and discipline. We hadn’t seen much of our company captain—just knew he was there. Ukrainian, I think. Strong as a bull. Carried himself with the authority of a man who didn’t need to raise his voice to own a room.

One morning, he took it upon himself to lead our run. This wasn’t your standard two-miler. No, this was a 7-mile grinder in the rain. The kind of run where your lungs ache and your thighs burn. We pushed through. We didn’t quit.

When it was over, he gathered us in a circle. Told us he was proud. He cracked a few jokes, and we laughed. It felt like one of those rare, good moments in training where things lightened up for a bit.

Then, one of the guys in our platoon—caught up in the humor of the moment—shouted out, “You and the captain can make it happen!

”The air snapped like a thunderclap. “ATTENTION!”

The captain’s face darkened, his jaw clenched, and without another word, he called all the drill sergeants to the front. We stood there in silence, confused, watching. Then, with cold precision, he ordered them into the front-leaning rest position—push-ups. And as they dropped, he began to smoke them.

“Do you let your privates talk like this?” he asked. “Are they your buddies? You all must be best pales to have them speak like this. They must be your fishing bros.  Well, they forgot who they were speaking to. They forgot who they were around. They lost their bearings. That will not happen again.”

And there we stood, watching our drill sergeants—our hardened, merciless tormentors—being punished in front of us. It was shocking. We had never seen anything like it.

When he finally pulled them back up, he turned to us calmly.

“Privates,” he said, almost back to his friendly self, “it was a good run. But do not lose your bearings again.”

And then he walked inside.

The moment the door shut behind him, it was as if all hell broke loose. The drill sergeants erupted, roaring at us, their voices shaking the walls. If we thought we had used all our energy on that run, we were sorely mistaken. Push-ups, sit-ups, flutter kicks—we paid for that moment of foolishness with sweat and agony.

The lesson was clear. We had a good captain—one who was strong, who could lead, who took pride in us, and who even had a sense of humor. But he would not tolerate disrespect. He would not allow us to forget our place.

When Success Makes You Soft

David too forgot.

The man after God’s own heart, the shepherd-warrior who had slain Goliath and wept for Saul, finally had everything. Enemies defeated. Kingdom established. Jerusalem in hand. God had been faithful.

But that’s often the most dangerous time, isn’t it? When life goes smooth, and victory seems certain. When your boots are finally dry, and your enemies have fled. That’s when men let their guard down. That’s when the soul drifts.

In 2 Samuel 6, David set out to bring the Ark of God to Jerusalem. A noble goal. But he handled it like a man who had forgotten the weight of what he carried.  

God had given clear, non-negotiable instructions on how the Ark of the Covenant was to be transported. It was to be carried on poles by consecrated Levites—specifically the sons of Kohath. No one was to touch it. Not even the priests. But David ignored that. He put the Ark on a cart, copying the Philistines. It looked efficient. It felt right. But it was rebellion dressed as worship. Uzzah, well-meaning but disobedient, reached out his hand to steady it.

And God struck him down.

You and I might flinch at that. Might think it harsh. But that’s because we’ve grown too casual with a holy God. We think we can serve Him our way, mix in a little paganism, a little convenience, and He’ll smile and wave it on.

But He won’t.

Three Hard Truths

1. Success Breeds Presumption

David wasn’t idle. He was active in worship, leading a national revival. But he failed to follow God’s command. He trusted good intentions more than God’s Word. You may be thriving—family strong, work solid, ministry growing. But if you forget to tremble before the Word of God, your success will be your undoing.

2. God Demands Reverence, Not Presumption

The Ark was never to be handled like common cargo. Uzzah forgot that. He thought his hands cleaner than the dirt. But God sees through our good intentions. He demands obedience. Holiness is not optional. He is not our co-pilot. He is the Lord of hosts, enthroned above the cherubim. You must approach Him with fear and trembling. Do not presume upon his mercy and grace.

3.      Joyless Worship Is Disobedient Worship

God doesn’t just want your attendance. He doesn’t want you checking boxes or mumbling lyrics with your hands in your pockets. He wants your heart. Real joy. Real gladness. Not a performance, but a fire in your bones that says, “God is good—even now.”

When David first moved the Ark, the people celebrated. They danced. They sang. But it was hollow—because obedience was missing. Joy without holiness is noise. But don’t swing to the other ditch either: reverence without joy is dead religion.

God commands both.

"Serve the Lord with gladness; come before Him with joyful singing." (Psalm 100:2)

Joy isn’t a mood—it’s a battle stance. It’s choosing to trust the character of God when the world goes dark. And it’s not optional. God rebuked Israel not just for disobedience, but for obeying without joy (Deuteronomy 28:47–48). That should shake us. So worship with fear—and fight for joy.

4.       Accept the Discipline of the Lord

David got angry when Uzzah died. Maybe you’ve been there—when God shuts down your plans, lets something fall apart, or tells you “No” when everything in you was saying “Yes.” But here’s the thing: God’s discipline isn’t cruelty—it’s mercy in hard clothes.

David didn’t double down like Saul. He feared the Lord. He stopped. He learned. That’s the mark of a man after God’s own heart—not perfection, but the humility to submit when God corrects you.

"For those whom the Lord loves He disciplines, and He scourges every son whom He receives." (Hebrews 12:6)

If God is dealing with you, don’t stiffen your neck. Don’t grumble. Receive it. Let it shape you. Let it strip you of pride. Because on the other side of discipline is blessing—and God only sharpens men He intends to use.

5.      God Blesses Those Who Honor Him

Obed-Edom welcomed the Ark. He feared God rightly—and his house was blessed. David saw it, and it changed him. He learned. He repented. And he returned for the Ark the right way.

Final Thoughts

Do not let the sweetness of God’s grace make you bitter toward His discipline. Do not mistake God’s patience for permission. Serve Him with joy—but also with fear.

The Captain of your soul is good. But He is not to be trifled with. He is holy. Remember your place.

And if you’ve fallen, if you’ve grown casual, if you’ve let success dull your reverence—stop. Repent. Fight for joy. Kneel before His throne, and return with obedience.

Because God will bless the man who fears Him.