The Presence and the Fear of God

Exodus 19.10-25

I have a confession to make that will definitely prove I’m getting older: I hate emojis.

I hate emojis.

I love technology, but I hate some of things that come with it. Emojis and social media are perhaps the two things I hate the most about the technology that has come to the foreground in the last twenty years or so.

I hate emojis because I love words. You can already see it: reliance on emojis are making us incapable of using actual language. We’ll write 😁 instead of constructing our sentences to express that we’re happy. We’ll write 🙏 instead of just praying with someone. We’ll use 💩—if someone can tell me in what context this is necessary, I’d be thankful.

But I have a theory as to why emojis took off the way they did. Sometimes, visualization is helpful. I think it’s rarely helpful in a text message, but I get why it’s appealing: you can see something and intuitively understand—it’s a much more immediate means of communication than words. It’s why graphs and charts are helpful; it’s why facial expressions are helpful; it’s why illustrations are helpful. Sometimes we need to see something to capture the full measure of it: you can describe the Grand Canyon to someone, but it’s a totally different thing to actually be there and see it.

I bring this up because what we see in today’s text is essentially God giving the people of Israel one huge illustration. It’s enabling them to visualize something they would only otherwise understand in part.

Last week we saw the people arrive at the foot of Mount Sinai, and God told Moses what he was going to do. He was going to establish a covenant with the people of Israel—and in case you weren’t here last week, here are the terms of that covenant. He said in Exodus 19.5-6:

Now therefore, if you will indeed obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession among all peoples, for all the earth is mine; 6 and you shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.

So he gave a condition—obey my voice and keep my covenant—and he gave them a promise—if they respected that condition, they would be he treasured possession, a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.

But they still don’t completely understand how serious this covenant is; God’s going to give Moses a list of laws the Israelites would have to follow, and the Israelites will need to be entirely convinced that they need to follow these laws, because they are to be God’s representatives among the nations, which means they have to be like him.

This is a big deal; it entails a total transformation of who they are as a nation and as a people. T. Desmond Alexander writes: "The ratification of the covenant at Mount Sinai transforms the Israelites from being oppressed slaves of the king of Egypt to being exalted servants of the King of kings.”

In other words, they will need to be holy—they will be a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.

But what does that mean, exactly? When we think “holy”, we often think of moral righteousness. And that is certainly true: God’s people would be holy in that they would be set apart by God to reflect his character to the world.

But it would be an incomplete reflection, because God is holy in ways ordinary human beings can never be. And he’s going to show that—he’s going to show just how wide the gap is between our holiness and his own—at Mount Sinai.

Preparing for the Presence of God (v. 10-15)

We see this first in the way God prepares the people for what he’s about to do. They’re about to come close to God, which is no small thing.

V. 9:

When Moses told the words of the people to the Lord, 10 the Lord said to Moses, “Go to the people and consecrate them today and tomorrow, and let them wash their garments 11 and be ready for the third day. For on the third day the Lord will come down on Mount Sinai in the sight of all the people.

So already this is something different than anything they’ve encountered before. God tells Moses that he is to “consecrate” the people. The word “consecrate” literally means to set apart as holy—Moses is to prepare the people to present themselves before a holy God.

He tells Moses to have the people “wash their garments” and be ready for the third day. In other words, that third day wouldn’t be like every other day.

Three couples got married this past week: Frank and Suzanne, Timothée and Laura, and Vincent and Sophie. I’m sure all of them have their favorite clothes they like to wear on a regular basis, certain ways they like to style their hair, certain ways they get ready in the morning. But they didn’t wear those clothes this week, and they didn’t get ready in the same way.

They got ready for their wedding.

Coming before God is serious, so the people were to prepare for that day in a different way than every other day. They were to wash their clothes, to come before God clean. They were to set themselves apart for this one thing: to go to the mountain fully aware that they were entering into the presence of holiness.

That’s not all—if this washing wasn’t enough to make them aware of the seriousness of the situation, what God said next would do it. V. 12:

12 And you shall set limits for the people all around, saying, ‘Take care not to go up into the mountain or touch the edge of it. Whoever touches the mountain shall be put to death. 13 No hand shall touch him, but he shall be stoned or shot; whether beast or man, he shall not live.’ When the trumpet sounds a long blast, they shall come up to the mountain.”

So in addition to the consecration and the cleansing they have to go through before the third day, Moses has to set limits around the mountain that the people can’t cross. If they go up too far, if they touch the mountain, the penalty is death.

That might seem a bit harsh, but it’s not. It’s what we saw last week: the holiness of God is unfit for sinful human beings. That’s why the person who comes too close to the mountain is to be stoned or shot (with an arrow, of course); they are not to be touched, because if they’ve been too close to the presence of the Holy God, they are now dangerous to come into contact with.

We can think of it almost like radiation. Think of the sun. The sun is a good thing—it’s a good creation of God. It gives us warmth, just the right conditions for a habitable planet, and it keeps our solar system in its orbit. Now let’s take an object in space, like a meteor or a satellite. Assuming it’s made of really strong stuff and doesn’t get burned up, if an object gets too close to the sun, it soaks up solar radiation and becomes radioactive. Not only can we not get close to the sun; we can’t get close to anything else that’s been close to the sun, because that would be dangerous for us too.

The sun is a good thing, but it is dangerous.

God’s holiness is an absolute good. It is what makes him God—he is totally set apart, totally above, totally perfect. His holiness is so good, in fact, that it is dangerous for anyone who isn’t as holy as God is.

So limits are set around the mountain, which the people absolutely must not pass.

Moses does what God commands in v. 14:

14 So Moses went down from the mountain to the people and consecrated the people; and they washed their garments. 15 And he said to the people, “Be ready for the third day; do not go near a woman.”

Obviously, he doesn’t mean don’t go physically near a woman; women were present in front of the mountain. What he means is, don’t have sex. Not because sex is bad or dirty (God created sex), but because he wants them totally set apart, in body and in mind, for this moment when he would come down. They are to be consecrated—dedicated to nothing else on that day.

Witnessing the Presence of God (v. 16-19)

So, as verse 2 of this chapter tells us, Israel is encamped in front of the mountain. And as Tim Chester noted, that’s a strange thing to say—mountains don’t have “fronts”.

But thrones do.

That really is what we see here: it’s like they’re entering into the throne room of the God of everything—and if they weren’t yet aware of why that was a big deal, they soon would be.

V. 16:

16 On the morning of the third day there were thunders and lightnings and a thick cloud on the mountain and a very loud trumpet blast, so that all the people in the camp trembled. 17 Then Moses brought the people out of the camp to meet God, and they took their stand at the foot of the mountain.

So on the third day, it’s almost like the mountain starts to wake up. There’s thunder, there’s lightning, a huge cloud that envelops the mountain and a “very loud trumpet blast.” That’s not a guy in the camp playing the trumpet to celebrate; that’s heaven, announcing God’s arrival.

We see at the end of v. 16 that “all the people in the camp trembled.” They are terrified.

Now if you’ve read the Bible, you’ll remember that often God will send an angel to someone, and every time that happens, the person who sees the angel is terrified, and usually the angel will tell them, “Don’t be afraid.” It’s interesting that Moses doesn’t do that here—not yet anyway. He will say it later on, as we’ll see in a couple weeks, but he will say it in a specific way that’s actually in keeping with what happens here.

For now, he doesn’t discourage their fear, because their fear is right—that’s the appropriate response to the presence of God.

A couple of years ago, we were back in Florida visiting my family, and we were there in peak storm season. Almost every day during the hot summer months, a little after noon, there’s a massive storm, with thunder and lightning and torrential rain. So every day the kids got a show. We were watching from inside most of the time, so we were sheltered and completely safe, but even from the safety of shelter, the kids were a little freaked out at first, because the thunder and lightning were incredible.

That’s how we should feel in the presence of something this powerful. That fear is the right response.

So Moses doesn’t tell the people not to fear. Instead, he tells them to come out anyway. Come out of their tents, come out of the camp to meet God.

Can you imagine? You leave your camp and you come up to the foot of this mountain, which is wrapped in clouds and thunder and lightning, and from which these shattering trumpet blasts are coming.

And once they’re there, it gets even more intense.

A lot of us went to see Christopher Nolan’s film Oppenheimer, which came out last year. I don’t think I’m spoiling anything by telling you that J. Robert Oppenheimer headed up the team that created the first atomic bomb, which they tested in the desert in New Mexico. The scene in the film where they test the bomb is incredible, because it’s not what you’d expect. You don’t see a lot of wide shots of the whole explosion, because we’ve seen those pictures before. We know what that looks like. Nolan wanted to get in close. They photographed shots of a small nuclear reaction in extreme close-up, so you have these long shots of just fire, rolling in and over itself.

I can’t help but think of that when I read v. 18:

18 Now Mount Sinai was wrapped in smoke because the Lord had descended on it in fire. The smoke of it went up like the smoke of a kiln, and the whole mountain trembled greatly. 19 And as the sound of the trumpet grew louder and louder, Moses spoke, and God answered him in thunder.

So there is thunder. Lightning. A loud trumpet blast. Then fire, and smoke billowing up like out of a smokestack from the mountain. Trembling. Then the trumpet blast gets louder and louder, and Moses speaks (or he has to scream, I’d imagine, over the noise), and when God answers, he answers in thunder.

Can you imagine it?

It’s one sign after another. God called the people to come to him. He wants to be in a relationship with his people.

But God is dangerous. His presence is not to be taken lightly. Coming to God is not like going to visit your grandpa. It’s not even like going to visit someone you greatly admire.

It’s like going to visit a thunderstorm. It’s like going to visit an atomic blast. He wants us to come, and he will keep us safe—remember, he set limits around the mountain so that the people wouldn’t die—but even from a distance, his presence is awesome, and dangerous, and terrifying.

Mediating the Presence of God (v. 20-25)

Why is he terrifying? We saw it before. God’s presence is terrifying because God is holy, and we are not. Just like we can’t withstand an atomic blast, because we’re not made of lead, we can’t withstand the presence of a holy God, because we aren’t holy.

In order for the people to truly come into the presence of God, they would need a barrier; they would need a kind of filter. And that filter, that barrier, as it turns out, would be a person.

That’s what we see next, in v. 20:

20 The Lord came down on Mount Sinai, to the top of the mountain. And the Lord called Moses to the top of the mountain, and Moses went up.

God allowed only one man to come up to the top of the mountain. Moses could come up, and no one else, at least not for now. (Later on he’ll bring Aaron up with him, because Aaron will soon be named high priest.) For now, it’s just Moses.

So what does God tell Moses when he gets up to the mountain? He gives him more safeguards, more limits; he tells him to go back down again, and reiterate for the people one more time just how serious this is.

V. 21:

21 And the Lord said to Moses, “Go down and warn the people, lest they break through to the Lord to look and many of them perish. 22 Also let the priests who come near to the Lord consecrate themselves, lest the Lord break out against them.” 23 And Moses said to the Lord, “The people cannot come up to Mount Sinai, for you yourself warned us, saying, ‘Set limits around the mountain and consecrate it.’ ” 24 And the Lord said to him, “Go down, and come up bringing Aaron with you. But do not let the priests and the people break through to come up to the Lord, lest he break out against them.” 25 So Moses went down to the people and told them.

You see, once God’s glory is visibly present on the mountain, there isn’t just one limit the people mustn’t cross. God sets up three separate zones of increasing holiness, the further up the mountain they go. (And later on, the tabernacle would be configured in exactly the same way.) Only Moses can come all the way to the top for now. Aaron and the priests can go up to the slopes, but no further (v. 22). And the people have to stay on the ground, at the foot of the mountain.

The closer to God you get, the more serious the danger is.

Only Moses can actually come into God’s presence for now, because God wants Moses to act as a mediator between God and the people. He wants there to be a barrier for now.

But why would he want that? Again, this is God—he can do whatever he wants. Clearly he can make it possible for Moses to come into his presence without dying, at least in a limited way. Why can’t he just do that for all the people?

There are a few reasons.

The first, I think, is logical, and that is that people can get used to almost anything, even things that are incredible. That’s why tourists who go into the mountains on vacation stand around taking pictures, looking at the peaks in awe, while the people who live there walk around like it’s no big deal. It’s why parents, when their kids get sick, will rush to them to clean it up, rather than running away like a sane person. It’s why Tom Cruise jumps out of airplanes, when everyone else straps in.

We can get used to almost anything.

And when we get used to fire, we tend to want to play with it.

It’s what we’ll see in about twelve chapters—despite everything they’ve seen, the people will eventually get bored with the incredible presence of God, and want a new god to do something new for them. They’ll get used to God’s presence, and stop taking it seriously.

We cannot come to God on our own; we need a mediator, who will represent us well before God.

That’s what we see in Moses: he is a good mediator between the people and God. He will hear God’s instructions, and transmit them faithfully to the people; he’ll also listen to the people, and pass on their requests to God. He’s a good mediator.

But he’s still not a perfect mediator. Later on, Moses will fail in his mediatorial task, and as a result will be prohibited from entering the Promised Land of Canaan.

Moses shows us a mediator is necessary, and he shows us that no merely human mediator is enough.

Here’s why I think this chapter is so incredibly important for us today. We’ve heard so many times that God is love, that the Father sent Christ to die for our sins—that he lived our life and died our death to reconcile us to God. And of course that is true: it’s what we say every week, it’s what we celebrate every week when we take Communion together.

But often we end up adopting a kind of Westernized idea of what the love of God the Father looks like. We liken God’s paternal love to our own. And our love, quite often, is more influenced by commercials than the Bible.

On the screen, you see a dad playing with his new baby. They’re on the floor, wrestling a little, the dad is rubbing his face into the skin of the baby’s belly, tickling it and making it laugh. Then someone says off screen, “Who wants a scratchy face when they’re cuddling with their baby?” And they show the dad carefully applying shaving cream, then shaving his face nice and close. Then one last shot of the dad holding the baby after a great day playing: the baby’s asleep on his chest, and he leans down and kisses the baby, nuzzling his his smooth, freshly shaved cheeks into the baby’s forehead.

A lot of the time, that’s what we think of when we think of the love of a father. And it’s not bad—not at all. Dads, play with your babies. Wrestle with them, kiss them, cuddle with them. They need you, and that’s good.

But that’s not what the love of God looks like, because his love is holy. He’s not after our comfort; he’s not there to tickle us and make us laugh. He’s there for our joy—which is a very different thing—and he’s there for our holiness.

My fear, even and almost especially for myself, is what happens when we get used to God. Because what we see described in Exodus 19 is not at odds with what we see described in the gospels. God has not changed. He is still the same holy God he was on the mountain, surrounding it in fire, smoke billowing up from the mountain, showing himself in lightning and speaking in thunder.

We cannot come to God the way a baby comes to her dad. Our God is a consuming fire (Deut. 4.24), as we see on the mountain. We can see his love in that he invites us to enter into his presence, but we cannot come to him as if he’s a normal dad. He’s not.

To come to God, we need a mediator. We need the Mediator.

That’s the second reason why God wanted a barrier between himself and the people, all the way back at the time of Moses. Moses’s acting as mediator for the people pointed forward to the day when the perfect Mediator would come.

Jesus said that “no one comes to the Father except through me” (John 14.6). We can’t, because we could never withstand the power of pure, unleashed holiness.

The only way we can come to God is through our Mediator, Jesus Christ. For all eternity, the only reason we will not be burned up by the holy presence of God is because we are protected by our Mediator. He has covered us in his holiness, and stands between us and the Father as our protection. Because he is both fully God and fully man, he bridges the infinite gap between our holiness and God’s holiness. He makes it possible for us to stand in God’s holy presence.

So we can come to God with joy, and thankfulness, and celebration. We can know that we are truly united to God, and we don’t have to be afraid of him.

But we also shouldn’t be afraid of fearing him, because that is the right response.

Cultivating the Fear of the Lord

You might be listening to this, and like me, feeling horribly convicted. Because you know you tend to come before God lightly, like you’d come to your dad. You know you don’t fear him as you should.

So how do we cultivate this fear?

Firstly—and this is far from the main thing, but I’m throwing it out there—read books that help. There’s a great one that was recently released by Michael Reeves called Rejoice and Tremble (“Réjouissez-vous et tremblez,” https://maisonbible.fr/fr/79283-rejouissez-vous-et-tremblez-pourquoi-la-crainte-du-seigneur-est-une-benediction-pour-le-peuple-de-dieu-9782925131335.html). It’s an excellent book, and the entire work is centered around this question.

But ultimately, the things you could read outside of the Bible are accessory—helpful, but not the foundation. So live in his Word. Read the Bible cover to cover, on a regular basis (if you can, once a year), because it’s impossible for someone who has been saved by grace, born again through the work of the Holy Spirit, to be exposed to the Bible that much and walk away with a small view of God.

Because the Bible does not present a small view of God. Not once. Even when Jesus does things we find easier to swallow—like healing the sick out of compassion for them—we’re still talking about the God of all creation who commands errant molecules with his word. Even Jesus is the one who appears in the book of Revelation shining like the sun, eyes like fire, a voice like a waterfall, with a sword coming out of his mouth.

Read the Bible. Read the whole Bible, as often as you can. Let it shape your view of God.

Secondly, pray often. Read Psalm 103, and see how often David says that God’s love and compassion is for those who fear him, and ask God to love you like that—to develop in you a view of him that moves you to awe and drives you to your knees, bowing your head before him. No one ever fears God enough, no one fears him as much as he deserves. So our prayers should reflect that. We repent that we do not fear you, Lord, and we beg you to show us mercy, to give us a right view of you, and to help us approach you with joy and trembling.

Lastly—and this might be simple but it’s not easy to do—take God seriously.

We notice this a lot in kids. We’re reading the Bible, or we’re praying together as a family, and one of the kids is goofing around, interrupting, hitting his brother or sister. As parents, we want to be understanding with our children, but we also want to impress upon them that these moments are serious. This is us, as a family, speaking to the all-powerful God of the universe, who is there in the room with us at that moment. It’s not a small thing. It’s not a light thing.

Now, I’m terrible at this. It’s like I was saying earlier: you spend enough time around something, and you get used to it. So we should jump on every opportunity we have to make an ordinary moment holy—because the reality is that there is not a single moment of a single day in which God is not present with us. Right there, in the room, there he is. How would we act differently if we could see him physically present there?

My prayer is that the Holy Spirit would help us meditate on this incredible passage, and feel that fear. That he would help us to always be in awe of the fact that we get to come protected into God’s holy presence. And that we would respond to this fear with obedience—because that is the point, as we’ll see in the next chapter. We fear the Lord, that we might listen to him, and obey him.