Grace to you and peace from God our Father
and from our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen. The text is the Old Testament
lesson from Deuteronomy 34.
As I read the Old Testament lesson for this
morning, I found myself standing in Moses’ sandals for a moment. There he was,
standing on the top of Mount Nebo, looking around and down into the Promised
Land, the fulfillment of the promise that God made to Moses and the Children of
Israel when they left Egypt forty years earlier. God promised that they would
return to the land of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, the land their forefathers left
so long ago while Joseph was still second over Egypt, the land they had
wilderness wandered for, waiting to see. It was down there, at the base of the
mountain, stretching out as far as Moses’ perfect vision could see it, so close
he could practically taste the milk and honey. Yet, he would never set foot in
it. That mountaintop view was as close as he would get to the Promised Land.
For the preceding forty years, Moses acted as
prophet, interceding to God on behalf of the people and proclaiming “thus saith
the Lord,” to the people as God’s spokesman. When God had threatened to destroy
Israel because of their incessant grumbling and complaining and begin anew with
Moses, it was Moses who reminded God that Israel was His people. If He were to
destroy them after taking them that far, His name would be a laughingstock
among the world. When Israel grumbled and complained about God and His care for
them, it was Moses who called them to repentance and pleaded for God to have
mercy.
So why wouldn’t, why couldn’t this faithful
prophet of God enter the Promised Land?
Although Moses stood as God’s prophet for the
people of Israel, he was not a perfect prophet. He was at times a hot-tempered
man. While Moses still dwelled in the house of Pharoah (remember how he was
rescued as a boy by Pharoah’s wife?), he saw a slave master whipping an
Israelite. In a fit of rage, he killed the master. When the murder was
discovered by fellow Israelites, he fled for his life. Years later, in the
Wilderness, the constant complaining and whining finally made him snap. They
were thirty or so years out of Egypt and, again, they had run out of water. The
Israelites assembled against Moses and Aaron, quarreling, blaming them for no
water, grumbling Moses led them into the wilderness to die. Moses and Aaron
again went to the Tabernacle and, pleading for the Lord’s mercy, cried out for
water. The Lord, in His mercy, commanded Moses to speak to the rock at Meribah
and water would come out. Even rocks obey when the Lord’s Word is proclaimed!
But Moses had enough. He gathered the
obstinate people together and thundered, “You rebels! Shall we bring forth
water for you out of this rock?” and, instead of proclaiming the Lord’s Words
to the rock, Moses instead struck the rock with his staff, just as he did 30
years earlier after leaving Egypt.
Moses’ anger had gotten the better of him.
His anger, his pride got in the way. He saw himself as the answer to the
people’s complaints. Did you catch it? He had said, “Shall we bring forth
water,” not “the Lord will bring forth water.” He confused the prophet of the
Lord with the Lord; his anger with the Lord’s anger; his justice with the
Lord’s mercy; his staff with the word of the Lord.
So, God declared to Moses, “Because you did
not believe in Me, to uphold Me as holy in the eyes of the people of Israel,
you shall not bring this assembly into the land that I have given them.”
Imagine being in Moses’ sandals at that
moment: realizing the depth, the gravity of your sin, realizing that your
anger, jealousy, and sinful ungodliness had just cost you the reward you had –
literally – spent your last three plus decades working toward. And then,
finding yourself standing on top of the mountain, looking down at the Land
promised to Israel, knowing you will never set foot there yourself because you
sinned against God. What do you do?
Have you ever made such a mistake, such an
error of judgement, have you ever sinned so greatly against a brother or sister
in Christ in such a way that you wondered if you would ever be in their good
graces again? That you knew, you just knew, that there was no way out of the
mess you got yourself into, no matter what you would do? That’s a hard place to
be. In that hardness of space, it seems that mercy is unobtainable, that
forgiveness is impossible, that love and compassion are such unattainable ideas
that you are left hopeless, helpless, for the idea that the relationship could
be restored? You come up with ideas, ways to try to show your remorse and
regret, hoping to maybe break down the wall you built.
We sometimes mistakenly allow that same fear
we have about sinning against our brothers and sisters to carry into our
perception of the Father in heaven. If my brother or sister in Christ can’t
forgive me for the singular offense of what I did to him or her, then, we
falsely conclude, the same must true of God who knows all – all – my sins and
against whom all – all – my sins ultimately fall, and He finally declares
“enough.” In this view, when we stand before God, we only see our own sins. The
forgiven becomes the unforgivable. The mercied one becomes the one not worth
mercy. The loved one becomes the unlovable.
Satan loves to tell us this view is the only
view. He drags us into the valley of the shadow of death where all we can see
is our sins, our unworthiness, our failures. The shadows lengthen and,
surrounded by the darkness, we feel trapped with nowhere to go in the valley.
SO, what do you do when you are in the Valley
of the shadow of death because of your sins, knowing you can’t restore the
relationship with God no matter how you might live the rest of your life, and
no matter how well you have done before. Your sin, your great and grievous sins
against God, are there and they will otherwise prevent you from ever leaving
the Valley of the shadow. What do you do?
You repent of your foolish, sinful arrogant
pride. And, you trust His promises.
Go back to Moses for a minute. About
mid-point in Deuteronomy, God had promised that He would send Israel another
Prophet, one even greater than Moses, and this Prophet will do that which Moses
could never do. It would take a long time, millenia, for the Prophet to come. This
Prophet would be a human, like Moses, raised up from among Israel. He would be
the perfect intermediator between God and man. With both words of Law and
Gospel, He would speak the truth of the Lord God. Where Moses mediated the
promise of grace and truth, grace and truth would come through this Prophet.
Moses offered sacrifices for the sins of the people. This Prophet would offer
Himself as the sacrifice. Moses’ covenant would come to an end when this
Prophet would fulfil the once-for-all sacrifice, satisfying the Father’s wrath
against man’s sin, and this Covenant would be without end.
Moses trusted this promise of God. Just as he
would not set foot in the Promised Land, he would not see this Prophet with his
own eyes. But, Moses had the promise of God. Faith is the substance of things
hoped for and the evidence of things not seen, and Moses had faith that God’s
promise of a prophet, of THE Prophet, would come about, in God’s
time, in God’s way.
The Valley of the shadow of death is a lonely
road, filled with desperation and despair. So God, in His mercy and compassion,
which is without end, reaches into the valley and puts this Prophet on the road.
The Prophet enters the Valley for us. The Valley road rises to another
mountain. It wasn’t much of a mountain, really. It was more of a hill, on the
outskirts of the city walls. If you were Roman, you called it Cavalry. If you
were a Jew, you called it Golgatha. Translated, it meant the Place of the
Skull. The Prophet, the sinless Son of God, would die on that mountain, raised
up those who mocked and laughed and scorned Him. Instead of striking with His
staff, He spoke, praying His Father’s forgiveness for those who crucified Him,
finally declaring the payment price to be complete. With a final word, “It is
finished,” His blood served as the propitiation, the covering, over all our
sins.
When Moses stood on Mount Horeb, permitted by
God to see the Promised Land, it was because God, for the sake of the Prophet
to come, had mercy on Moses who trusted that very promise. In spite of his sins
that deserved his eternal death, Moses trusted God would rescue him into
eternity. That hilltop moment was a gift of mercy, a demonstration of God’s
grace for sinners. Although Moses would not enter the earthly promised land, and
he would die in his body, the eternal promised land was already his, and his
sins of idolatry, anger, and foolishness were already redeemed by the Prophet
who had not yet come.
Today is Transfiguration Sunday. Between Horeb
and Golgatha was another mountain: we simply refer to it as the Mount of
Transfiguration. Jesus would be transfigured; His clothes and appearance
shining brightly in holiness. Moses would make an appearance there, along with
Elijah, and they would speak with Jesus. Luke says it was about Jesus’
departure; Matthew describes it as Jesus’ exodus. Either way, the conversation
is one about the cross. Peter wanted Jesus to stay up on the mountain where it
was safe and sacred. Jesus would not stay on that mountain. He would descend
into the valley of the shadow below, and then ascend to the holy city where He
would be crucified, the sinless One for the sin-stained ones.
That is what you do. When you realize you
have sinned against your neighbors, your brothers and sisters in Christ,
against people you don’t even know, and against God Himself, you stand at the
hillside cross and repent of your sins, trusting the promises and words of God,
that Jesus both entered that valley and hung on the cross for us, rescuing us
and redeeming us from satan’s clutches. In His death, He paid your price. In
His life, He promises your own resurrection. And, in joyful thanksgiving, you
renew your battle against the devil, the world, and our flesh, trusting the
promises of God for you in Christ Jesus your Lord. Amen.
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