In Exodus 20-31, Moses is atop Mount Sinai receiving the Ten Commandments along with other ceremonial laws. Chapter 32 tells the tragedy of the people’s impatient and proud hearts as they fashioned a golden calf for their worship. In chapter 33, Israel faced judgment for this treacherous sin. The Lord  commanded them to leave Mount Sinai. He reminded them of His promise to drive out the inhabitants of the promised land, and said He is sending an angel to go with them—but He’s not going. “...but I will not go up among you, lest I consume you on the way, for you are a stiff-necked people” (v. 3). Yeesh.

Pause here. Think what it would be like to suddenly realize your Redeemer is turning you over. Your Creator, Deliverer, Protector, Provider, and Father is sending you on your way without His Presence. What sort of bearing does that have on you?

Counting women and children, their party consisted of upwards of a million people—not easy to hide from enemies with such a crowd. Without the help of the Lord, no water would flow from a rock. Shoes would surely wear out and feet would swell. No manna or quail or warm fire for the night—no forgiveness for sins. It’s more than a tragedy—it’s unbearable.

And Israel felt it, for they responded in verse 4: “When the people heard this disastrous word, they mourned and no one put on his ornaments.”

What would become of them without the Lord? Slavery was the only meaning they could claim. But overnight, the Lord changed their status to freed men and women. Granted, they didn’t exactly grasp the whole concept clearly—they fell back to their cravings repeatedly. But when coming off the coattails of judgment for their sin and seeing their context with new sobriety, they realized their disastrous path to move forward without God’s Presence. And this isn’t the only account in Scripture where God’s people are confronted with their earthly identities. 

The end of John 6 echoes this story when Jesus gives a challenging teaching about eternal life: “After this many of His disciples turned back and no longer walked with Him. So Jesus said to the Twelve, ‘Do you want to go away as well?’ Simon Peter answered Him, ‘Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life, and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God’” (66–69). 

To whom shall we go? Both Israel and the disciples saw they had no significance outside of God. As hard as it was to follow Him at times—many times, actually—they recognized suffering in this present life meant an eternity of the greatest significance of all—life with God. 

And what about us? Is it possible to abide with God so deeply and steadfastly that we instantly feel disastrous when we break fellowship with Him? When we drift away because our own folly is more appetizing? When the world offers a path that is easier to work, cheaper to afford, better for the taking? 

Galatians 2:20, “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” Yes, by faith we can know the disaster of worshipping the idols of our hearts, of constructing strongholds apart from God, of throwing out holiness for something vulgar. 

The end of Exodus 33 is beautiful. Moses intercedes for the people, reminding God that He is their identity: “If your presence will not go with me, do not bring us up from here. For how shall it be known that I have found favor in your sight, I and your people? Is it not in your going with us, so that we are distinct, I and your people, from every other people on the face of the earth?” (15–16).



God grants Moses’s request to go with Israel and affirms his identity of being known by God—more on Moses in a bit. . .