How do you picture the presence of God? What do you hope for? Do you long for a grandmother God who always has a hug to give, not to mention warm cookies and cold milk? Do you desperately long for the stern father God who demands respectful obedience? Some do, you know. What about the fun-loving, game playing, brother God? Or maybe it’s the nurturing, kissing away the hurts, holding your hand, mother God. Sometimes I wonder if our view of God isn’t a bit one dimensional. God is love! Absolutely! But does that reduce him to puppy dog sappiness; saccharine sweetness that never rebukes or chastises? God is a fire! Yes he is! But does that mean he is constantly consuming? God is a nursing mother! Isaiah 49 makes that analogy. But does that mean he always holds us and nurtures us and sees us as adorable babies? Here’s the thing; how you picture the presence of God determines how you approach him. Do you run into his arms? Do you bow? Do you joke around with him? Do you lean into his embrace? Our God is more complex than my limited brain can grasp, but I do know that standing in awe is never a bad way to approach the presence of God.
In Exodus 3:1-6 Moses is surprised by the presence of God. There he was tending his father-in-law’s sheep. He had become a full-fledged member of the family. He had been entrusted with the families assets; all of their wealth and means of sustenance. He had taken the flock to the back of the wilderness. Some think this refers to the west, the main direction to eastern peoples being east. But it seems likely that this is not a geographical statement intended to help us pin-point the location of this event. It is about distance. Moses had traveled further than normal, beyond the regular wilderness wanderings normally required in the care of the sheep. And in this wilderness he came to Horeb, which simply means waste or desert, and the mountain of God. Some suggest that it had been known as the mountain of God while others suggest it was named this because God showed up there in major ways. The latter fits better.
And it is here that a messenger of Yahweh appeared to him. This messenger was probably the fire itself; the symbol of the presence of God in the midst of a thorn bush. We probably don’t need to see any other significance here other than the marvelous wonder of a blazing fire that does not consume. And it is this marvel that brings Moses in for a closer look. Some of us have heard the story so often that the wonder has seeped out of the tale. Approach it as if you have never heard it before. Imagine seeing a raging fire in the midst of a bush and yet the bush is not burning up. That would demand a closer look. God knew it would grab Moses’ attention. And that is why the fire is called the messenger of God. And when Moses drew near it was Yahweh who spoke; it was God who called to him from the midst of that burning yet not burning bush. And God called his name . . . twice. When God calls out someone’s names twice there seems to be something significant about to happen. Jesus called Saul’s name twice when he knocked him to the ground with a bright light on the road to Damascus. Moses responded with the simple, “Here I am.”
God told Moses not to draw near and to slip off his sandals because the ground he was standing on was set apart; consecrated. The presence of God purifies the very ground around his presence. And he said, “I am the God of your father”. The singular form of father is used and this seems odd. Maybe, God was reminding Moses that his family was still in Egypt and that God has not forgotten them. He also reminds him that he is the God of the three great patriarchs; representatives of the Israelites as a whole. This is Yahweh speaking. The God who is still the God of Moses’ immediate family and the God of the Israelites. Moses hides his face in fear. He initially came to get a closer look and now he hides his face in terror of looking at God. The presence of God can be, and sometimes should be, a frightening thing.
How do you approach the presence of God? I wonder if our view of God isn’t too soft; too fluffy; too puppy dog sappy. O, I know, some people long for an angry vengeful God, which repels any attempt of approach and comfort. It isn’t that God isn’t sometimes a nursing mother, providing comfort and nurture to her babies. But that isn’t all he is. He is often fire. Sometimes that fire is consuming and sometimes it is purifying. The presence of God is about the symbol God wants us to see. Here it is about fire; about liberating. Moses and the Israelites needed a fire here, not a nursing mother. Whatever the symbol, it seems appropriate to be in awe of God; drop to your knees, overwhelmed by his holiness. Shalom, Walter