Appointment With Thunder
Sermon
Sermons On The First Readings
Series II, Cycle A
If you're like me, then you've spent your whole life in the church. And if you've spent your whole life in the church, then you've surely heard about the Ten Commandments before. We grew up with them displayed on the walls of our Sunday school classrooms, and perhaps in the stained-glass windows of our sanctuaries. We have heard sermons, lessons, and devotionals based on them. Perhaps we've even seen a movie or two about them. Why, then, would a preacher want to return to such well-worn material?
First, we need to return to them precisely because the Ten Commandments are so familiar. You see, once something is familiar, we run the risk of no longer paying careful attention to it.
When a place is familiar, we stop exploring it. We may no longer look carefully at the picture that is familiar. We may no longer listen carefully to the song that is familiar. And, we may no longer say thoughtfully the prayers, sing meaningfully the hymns, or read carefully the scriptures that are familiar.
The Ten Commandments are so familiar that it may have been quite some time since some of us read them carefully. Or thought about them carefully. Or perhaps obeyed them carefully.
And then there is this other matter. The Ten Commandments suffer a bit from the fact that we teach them to children. In Sunday school classes, in vacation Bible schools, in children's Bible stories, and in our homes, we teach the Ten Commandments to children.
Please don't misunderstand my meaning: It's not a bad thing to teach the Ten Commandments to children. It's good and it's right. But in the process of teaching them to children, we may express the commandments in a kind of shorthand that shortchanges their meaning. And so we think of "taking God's name in vain" as, simply, "swearing." Or we think of "bearing false witness" as, simply, "lying." We simplify the commandments for children, and in the process lose the full depth and breadth of their meaning for ourselves.
The law of God contains the wisdom of God and the will of God. You and I will not easily exhaust what there is to be gained from meditating on it. And so we return today to that familiar, well-worn material.
And yet, we're not actually talking about any of the individual commandments today. Before we can study the commandments -- or, for that matter, before we can even obey the commandments -- we must first receive the commandments.
Perhaps someone will say, "That's a little ridiculous. We don't need to receive them; we already have them. We've had them for 3,000 years!"
Yes, we've had them, but we have not necessarily received them.
In our day-to-day communication, we understand that the message received is more than just the words spoken. In conversation, for example, the tone of voice, the body language, and the eye contact are all part of the message.
Likewise, when you're speaking with a child, whether you stand high above or crouch down face-to-face, becomes part of the message the child receives.
When we hear the national anthem or say the pledge of allegiance, the message exceeds the mere words when they are accompanied by certain actions: When we stand up, take off a hat, and put a hand over our heart.
When the president of the United States addresses the nation from the oval office, the message received is more than just the words spoken. For the formality of the setting and the rareness of the occasion contribute to the weight of the message.
In so much of our communication and experience, the message received is far more than just the words that are spoken. And if that is true in ordinary conversation, in patriotic protocol, and in presidential addresses, then it is a thousand times true of the Ten Commandments. The message received by the people was more than just the words spoken. The message received by the people was also the context, the setting, in which those words were spoken.
I want for us to see that setting this morning.
The scene is Sinai. The Sinai Peninsula was the triangular wilderness that lay between Egypt and Canaan and it was an inevitable part of the Israelites' journey as they traveled from slavery to the promised land.
But Sinai was more than just the wilderness that was in the way. Sinai was also a part of their destination: It was a scheduled stop.
You and I serve and follow a God who has more than one destination for us. The itinerary of his providence has more than one stop, and so we must be careful to guard against either of two obstacles to faithful following: First, that we should be so impatient for some final destination that we try to bypass the stops he has for us along the way; or, second, that we should become so content with some stop along the way that we resist moving on to his next destination for us.
Bethel and Penuel were essential stops for Jacob, yet neither was his home. The Jordan River and the Judean wilderness were both necessary stops along the way for Jesus before he began his Galilean ministry. And for Israel, the promised land was God's ultimate destination for them, but Sinai was an essential, scheduled stop on the way there.
It all began when God had first called Moses at the burning bush. Moses initially hesitated, and then his hesitation developed into a full-fledged resistance. Yet God persisted. And along the way, God spoke this reassuring word to his reluctant, would-not-be servant: "I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain."
So, you see, from the beginning of the project, Sinai was on the itinerary.
After Moses arrived in Egypt, things actually got worse before they get better. And since we human beings are such slaves to the present, the unfavorable developments prompted both Moses and the people to question whether God was going to guide this process to a successful end. Because the offense lost yardage on the first play from scrimmage, the faithless fans assumed that they were doomed to lose the whole game.
God did win, of course, in the end. Through frogs and flies, through disease and darkness, from blood in the Nile to blood on the doors, God won. And the Israelites marched out of Egypt free, encumbered only with the plunder of the Egyptians.
It turned out, however, that their deliverance was not complete, for they were pursued and trapped by pharaoh at the banks of the Red Sea. Yet, God's saving power and saving grace were not depleted: He rescued them from pharaoh at the Red Sea as decisively as he had rescued them from pharaoh back in Egypt.
And then, from there, it was on to Mount Sinai.
If you look at a map of the ancient Middle East, you'll discover that Mount Sinai is not exactly on a straight line from Egypt to Canaan. In fact, to go to Mount Sinai on the way to the promised land took the Israelites quite a distance out of the way. That may seem a poor strategy on God's part -- to detour several hundred thousand men, women, and children several hundred miles on their journey -- and yet it is a strategy that we should recognize.
We know what it is, in our human relationships, to take someone aside, or to be taken aside by someone else. Some conversations deserve not to happen on the way or in the midst. Some conversations ought to happen when one person takes another aside: just the two of them, away from the rest of whatever the setting may be.
So God took Israel aside. Here was this brief moment when he had them alone; away from the context of Egypt, where they had come from, where the people did not know and did not serve the Lord. Away from the context of Canaan, where they were going to, where the people also did not know and did not serve the Lord.
God made an appointment to meet his people, and he took them aside for this meeting: took them aside to Sinai.
When the people had arrived and set up camp at the foot of Mount Sinai, they were told to prepare themselves for their appointment with God. For two days, they were to purify themselves, and they were told to set up a boundary around the base of the mountain. That boundary was a line not to be crossed -- not by priest, not by people, not by animals -- not until the trumpet sounded.
Frankly, the whole process and scene there at Sinai may be unappealing to us. For you and I have cultivated a very different understanding of our access to God. We cherish the picture of a God that we can talk to any time and any place; and in this matter we have surely gained much over the ancient Israelites, who trembled at a distance.
But it is not all gain, for we have perhaps also lost some things that those ancient people had. Perhaps, for example, we have lost sight of the privilege: the privilege of the divine appointment called prayer. Perhaps we have lost perspective of the mind-boggling honor of an audience with Almighty God. And perhaps we have lost a recognition of the awesome presence into which we are invited. So far from trembling at a distance are we that we presume to meander in and out of the throne room of the universe, coming and going according to our own convenience. And in the very presence, where the angels themselves veil their sight and cry "Holy," we are often casual and distracted.
For two days, the Israelites purified themselves and kept their distance. And then, on the third day, there was thunder and there was lightning. The top of the mountain was enveloped in a thick cloud, and a loud trumpet blast was heard.
There is no indication in the text, incidentally, that any human being was given the assignment to blow a trumpet.
In the New Testament, the apostle Paul wrote to the Thessalonians that when Christ comes again in glory, His return will be accompanied by two things: the archangel's cry of command and the sound of God's trumpet.
Perhaps it was the sound of God's trumpet that Israel heard that day at Sinai.
Then the Lord came down in fire on the mountain, and the mountain was covered with smoke, and the sound of the trumpet grew louder, and the people shrank back with fear and trembling.
The message that is received is more than just the words that are spoken. The message that is received includes the context, the setting, and the scene, in which the words are spoken.
The commandments of God were not issued willy-nilly, at some random place and time. Rather, God made an appointment to meet his people at a specific place, time, and setting. And if we see that setting more clearly, you and I will be in a better position to receive his commandments, too.
A cordoned-off, out-of-the-way mountain. Thunder and lightning. Fire and smoke. A thick cloud and a loud trumpet. That is the scene. It was then and it was there that God gave his people the Ten Commandments.
You and I gather together here in this place. It is not Sinai, but it is a gathering of those who have been saved by him. It is a gathering at an appointed time and place to meet with God. It is a setting of worship, where we pause in reverence, praise, and awe before a holy God. And it is the place where God is able to take us aside, to get us alone with him, apart from the context of the world: the world from which we came; the world to which we will return; and a world where he is largely not known and not served.
And it is here, in this setting, that we are invited to hear his message and to receive his commandments. Amen.
First, we need to return to them precisely because the Ten Commandments are so familiar. You see, once something is familiar, we run the risk of no longer paying careful attention to it.
When a place is familiar, we stop exploring it. We may no longer look carefully at the picture that is familiar. We may no longer listen carefully to the song that is familiar. And, we may no longer say thoughtfully the prayers, sing meaningfully the hymns, or read carefully the scriptures that are familiar.
The Ten Commandments are so familiar that it may have been quite some time since some of us read them carefully. Or thought about them carefully. Or perhaps obeyed them carefully.
And then there is this other matter. The Ten Commandments suffer a bit from the fact that we teach them to children. In Sunday school classes, in vacation Bible schools, in children's Bible stories, and in our homes, we teach the Ten Commandments to children.
Please don't misunderstand my meaning: It's not a bad thing to teach the Ten Commandments to children. It's good and it's right. But in the process of teaching them to children, we may express the commandments in a kind of shorthand that shortchanges their meaning. And so we think of "taking God's name in vain" as, simply, "swearing." Or we think of "bearing false witness" as, simply, "lying." We simplify the commandments for children, and in the process lose the full depth and breadth of their meaning for ourselves.
The law of God contains the wisdom of God and the will of God. You and I will not easily exhaust what there is to be gained from meditating on it. And so we return today to that familiar, well-worn material.
And yet, we're not actually talking about any of the individual commandments today. Before we can study the commandments -- or, for that matter, before we can even obey the commandments -- we must first receive the commandments.
Perhaps someone will say, "That's a little ridiculous. We don't need to receive them; we already have them. We've had them for 3,000 years!"
Yes, we've had them, but we have not necessarily received them.
In our day-to-day communication, we understand that the message received is more than just the words spoken. In conversation, for example, the tone of voice, the body language, and the eye contact are all part of the message.
Likewise, when you're speaking with a child, whether you stand high above or crouch down face-to-face, becomes part of the message the child receives.
When we hear the national anthem or say the pledge of allegiance, the message exceeds the mere words when they are accompanied by certain actions: When we stand up, take off a hat, and put a hand over our heart.
When the president of the United States addresses the nation from the oval office, the message received is more than just the words spoken. For the formality of the setting and the rareness of the occasion contribute to the weight of the message.
In so much of our communication and experience, the message received is far more than just the words that are spoken. And if that is true in ordinary conversation, in patriotic protocol, and in presidential addresses, then it is a thousand times true of the Ten Commandments. The message received by the people was more than just the words spoken. The message received by the people was also the context, the setting, in which those words were spoken.
I want for us to see that setting this morning.
The scene is Sinai. The Sinai Peninsula was the triangular wilderness that lay between Egypt and Canaan and it was an inevitable part of the Israelites' journey as they traveled from slavery to the promised land.
But Sinai was more than just the wilderness that was in the way. Sinai was also a part of their destination: It was a scheduled stop.
You and I serve and follow a God who has more than one destination for us. The itinerary of his providence has more than one stop, and so we must be careful to guard against either of two obstacles to faithful following: First, that we should be so impatient for some final destination that we try to bypass the stops he has for us along the way; or, second, that we should become so content with some stop along the way that we resist moving on to his next destination for us.
Bethel and Penuel were essential stops for Jacob, yet neither was his home. The Jordan River and the Judean wilderness were both necessary stops along the way for Jesus before he began his Galilean ministry. And for Israel, the promised land was God's ultimate destination for them, but Sinai was an essential, scheduled stop on the way there.
It all began when God had first called Moses at the burning bush. Moses initially hesitated, and then his hesitation developed into a full-fledged resistance. Yet God persisted. And along the way, God spoke this reassuring word to his reluctant, would-not-be servant: "I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain."
So, you see, from the beginning of the project, Sinai was on the itinerary.
After Moses arrived in Egypt, things actually got worse before they get better. And since we human beings are such slaves to the present, the unfavorable developments prompted both Moses and the people to question whether God was going to guide this process to a successful end. Because the offense lost yardage on the first play from scrimmage, the faithless fans assumed that they were doomed to lose the whole game.
God did win, of course, in the end. Through frogs and flies, through disease and darkness, from blood in the Nile to blood on the doors, God won. And the Israelites marched out of Egypt free, encumbered only with the plunder of the Egyptians.
It turned out, however, that their deliverance was not complete, for they were pursued and trapped by pharaoh at the banks of the Red Sea. Yet, God's saving power and saving grace were not depleted: He rescued them from pharaoh at the Red Sea as decisively as he had rescued them from pharaoh back in Egypt.
And then, from there, it was on to Mount Sinai.
If you look at a map of the ancient Middle East, you'll discover that Mount Sinai is not exactly on a straight line from Egypt to Canaan. In fact, to go to Mount Sinai on the way to the promised land took the Israelites quite a distance out of the way. That may seem a poor strategy on God's part -- to detour several hundred thousand men, women, and children several hundred miles on their journey -- and yet it is a strategy that we should recognize.
We know what it is, in our human relationships, to take someone aside, or to be taken aside by someone else. Some conversations deserve not to happen on the way or in the midst. Some conversations ought to happen when one person takes another aside: just the two of them, away from the rest of whatever the setting may be.
So God took Israel aside. Here was this brief moment when he had them alone; away from the context of Egypt, where they had come from, where the people did not know and did not serve the Lord. Away from the context of Canaan, where they were going to, where the people also did not know and did not serve the Lord.
God made an appointment to meet his people, and he took them aside for this meeting: took them aside to Sinai.
When the people had arrived and set up camp at the foot of Mount Sinai, they were told to prepare themselves for their appointment with God. For two days, they were to purify themselves, and they were told to set up a boundary around the base of the mountain. That boundary was a line not to be crossed -- not by priest, not by people, not by animals -- not until the trumpet sounded.
Frankly, the whole process and scene there at Sinai may be unappealing to us. For you and I have cultivated a very different understanding of our access to God. We cherish the picture of a God that we can talk to any time and any place; and in this matter we have surely gained much over the ancient Israelites, who trembled at a distance.
But it is not all gain, for we have perhaps also lost some things that those ancient people had. Perhaps, for example, we have lost sight of the privilege: the privilege of the divine appointment called prayer. Perhaps we have lost perspective of the mind-boggling honor of an audience with Almighty God. And perhaps we have lost a recognition of the awesome presence into which we are invited. So far from trembling at a distance are we that we presume to meander in and out of the throne room of the universe, coming and going according to our own convenience. And in the very presence, where the angels themselves veil their sight and cry "Holy," we are often casual and distracted.
For two days, the Israelites purified themselves and kept their distance. And then, on the third day, there was thunder and there was lightning. The top of the mountain was enveloped in a thick cloud, and a loud trumpet blast was heard.
There is no indication in the text, incidentally, that any human being was given the assignment to blow a trumpet.
In the New Testament, the apostle Paul wrote to the Thessalonians that when Christ comes again in glory, His return will be accompanied by two things: the archangel's cry of command and the sound of God's trumpet.
Perhaps it was the sound of God's trumpet that Israel heard that day at Sinai.
Then the Lord came down in fire on the mountain, and the mountain was covered with smoke, and the sound of the trumpet grew louder, and the people shrank back with fear and trembling.
The message that is received is more than just the words that are spoken. The message that is received includes the context, the setting, and the scene, in which the words are spoken.
The commandments of God were not issued willy-nilly, at some random place and time. Rather, God made an appointment to meet his people at a specific place, time, and setting. And if we see that setting more clearly, you and I will be in a better position to receive his commandments, too.
A cordoned-off, out-of-the-way mountain. Thunder and lightning. Fire and smoke. A thick cloud and a loud trumpet. That is the scene. It was then and it was there that God gave his people the Ten Commandments.
You and I gather together here in this place. It is not Sinai, but it is a gathering of those who have been saved by him. It is a gathering at an appointed time and place to meet with God. It is a setting of worship, where we pause in reverence, praise, and awe before a holy God. And it is the place where God is able to take us aside, to get us alone with him, apart from the context of the world: the world from which we came; the world to which we will return; and a world where he is largely not known and not served.
And it is here, in this setting, that we are invited to hear his message and to receive his commandments. Amen.
