Sons of Brokenness

As a result of Korah’s Rebellion, the entire families of Dathan and Abiram—along with their livestock and possessions—were swallowed by the earth. Scripture tells us that not all of Korah’s family was destroyed as a result of his rebellion. Some of his children were spared. I find myself wondering why.

God is not capricious. His judgments are just. And make no mistake—no one is innocent. It is God’s grace alone that allows any of us to live. But this story invites us to look deeper. To ask, why?

Not why there was judgment. That seems clear from the account. But why were some children spared when others were not?

The easy “Sunday School” answer is that God is God, and He does whatever pleases Him. That is true—but it is not the whole story. Scripture often invites reflection, not merely conclusion. There are lessons here.

We must remember that the people in this account were real men and families with lives that preceded the rebellion. They were Levites—set apart, entrusted with the care, transport, and protection of the holy things of the Tabernacle. They lived and worked closer to the presence of God than anyone in Israel, with the exception of the priests.

Korah and his family were even tasked with transporting the Ark of the Covenant, along with the rest of the sacred furnishings. What an extraordinary honor.

And yet, it was not enough.

They desired more. They wanted the priesthood itself.

Scripture does not tell us what conversations took place within these families, but it is not difficult to imagine how dissatisfaction can take root. The Levites were forbidden from even looking upon the uncovered holy furnishings. Their role had limits—clear boundaries set by God. It is easy to suppose that those limits began to feel unnecessary. Unfair. Arbitrary. Perhaps even fabricated by Moses and Aaron themselves.

In rebelling against Moses, they failed to see that they were rebelling against God.

Yet Numbers 26:11 tells us plainly: “The sons of Korah did not die.”

At least some of Korah’s children appear to have recognized the error in their father’s path. Whether through repentance, humility, or quiet obedience, they did not join in the rebellion. They understood the sacredness of their calling. They honored the boundaries God had set. They recognized that proximity to holiness is itself a gift—not a platform for ambition.

And so, they lived.

One can only imagine the horror with which they watched the ground open and consume entire households. That moment would have etched itself into their souls forever—a living testimony to the holiness, sovereignty, wrath, and mercy of God.

That reverence did not fade with time. It was taught to their children, and to their children’s children. By the time of King David, this lineage bore the unmistakable mark of humility and awe. David recognized it—and entrusted the Sons of Korah with leading worship in the presence of God day and night.

These are the Sons of Korah who went on to write eleven psalms preserved in the book of Psalms. Their words gave voice to longing, lament, joy, and reverence:

As the deer pants for the water brooks,
So my soul pants for You, O God.
—Psalm 42:1

Why are you in despair, O my soul?
And why have you become disturbed within me?
Hope in God, for I shall yet praise Him,
The help of my countenance and my God.
—Psalm 42:11

O send out Your light and Your truth, let them lead me;
Let them bring me to Your holy hill
And to Your dwelling places.
—Psalm 43:3

“Cease striving and know that I am God;
I will be exalted among the nations,
I will be exalted in the earth.”
—Psalm 46:10

O clap your hands, all peoples;
Shout to God with the voice of joy.
—Psalm 47:1

For a day in Your courts is better than a thousand outside.
—Psalm 84:10

And these only scratch the surface of the richness of their contribution.

Some of the most enduring worship in Scripture did not rise from comfort or success, but from a lineage marked by holy fear. The Sons of Korah knew—personally and generationally—what rebellion cost. They knew what mercy preserved.

Their worship was not naïve. It was not casual. It was forged in brokenness, shaped by reverence, and sustained by grace. And it reminds us that brokenness, when met with humility, becomes fertile soil—where true worship takes root and endures.

A Prayer

Holy God,

You are not casual with holiness,
and You are not careless with mercy.

You set boundaries not to withhold Yourself from us,
but to teach us how to live near You without being destroyed.

Forgive us when we despise the place You have given us.
Forgive us when we confuse ambition with calling,
and proximity with entitlement.

Teach us to fear You rightly—
not with terror that drives us away,
but with reverence that keeps us close.

Let our brokenness become humility,
our humility become obedience,
and our obedience become worship.

Give us hearts like the Sons of Korah—
content to serve where You place us,
grateful for mercy we did not earn,
and eager to praise You for who You are.

Plant true worship deep within us, O Lord,
and let it grow from soil softened by grace.

Amen.

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