Glory

“Show me Your glory.”

Humanity has been petitioning this request for nearly as long as breath has been fueling our lungs. The phrase is laced through the lyrics of our songs of worship and whispered in the utterance of our sincerest prayers but I fear greatly that we speak, ignorant of the substance of the plea that leaves our lips. C.S. Lewis got it right. Glory carries weight. Partaking of it is costly.

Chapters 24-34 of Exodus are brimming with revelation and eternal insights. But, if you’ll sift through them with me, we’ll focus in on a moment in time where God communed and spoke with a man as one may speak with his friend. Moses had been previously called up to the peak of Mount Sinai to receive the law and the instructions for the creation and keeping of the Tabernacle. When the length of his absence exceeded the patience of the people, Israel rebelled and commissioned Moses’ brother, Aaron, to facilitate the construction and worship of a false god; a calf made of gold. As Moses descends from the mount, though forewarned by the Lord of the people’s corruption, he still arrives at a place of anguish in his heart at his findings. His experience could be compared, not in intensity, but in nature, to the feeling one may have after spending hours researching recipes and making sacrifices in order to properly prepare a five-star meal for a loved one. The meal courses are prepped, the table-scape is set, and the menus are beautifully designed. You then exit the kitchen only to find that loved one sitting on the couch, a mountain of fast-food wrappers at their side.

Far better things are prepared for you, friend. You need only wait.

It isn’t documented verbally, but Moses’ heart was exclaiming these words to the children of Israel as he, out of anger, threw the tablets of stone containing the law to the ground, leaving them in shattered pieces at the feet of the rebellious. You may already know this story, but if not, I’m about to drop a spoiler: God eventually picks up the pieces. Once He engages in a covenant, He is in the business of preserving it.

The tables of stone were not the only thing that Moses destroyed that day. He took his hand to the golden idol of Israel, ground it into powder, put it in water, and made the people drink it. You think Alka-Seltzer is nasty. The fruit of rebellion is far more unpalatable. Divided by their allegiances either to the Lord or the remnants of their golden god, the men of the camp engaged in war. Scripture records that by the end of the day, about three thousand Israelites were slain at the sword of a brother. Buckle up. It gets heavier.

God speaks to Moses and instructs him to guide the Israelites into the Promised Land. At first glance, that doesn’t feel so heavy, but the conditions with which God breathed those words communicated the seriousness of the issue.

“…for I will not go up in the midst of thee; for thou art a stiffnecked people; lest I consume thee in the way.” (Exodus 33:3)

Before any shittim wood was cut to craft an altar, before anything was overlaid with gold, and before any curtains of fine linen were woven, Moses responds to this instruction of God by leaving the camp and setting up a place that he called the Tabernacle of the Congregation. He removed it far from the midst of the camp, and he entered into it to commune with the Lord. When he would enter the tabernacle, the pillar of cloud would descend and stand at the entrance of the tent. The people would worship from afar, as they stayed within the camp, but Moses communed with the Cloud.

Moses made petition of the Lord that He would send His presence with them. He appealed to His faithfulness rather than His wrath, and He reminded the Lord that Israel was His covenant people; His nation. The Lord agreed to go with them and Moses responded with a statement that I pray is always the sincere cry of my heart.

And he said unto Him, if Thy presence go not with me, carry us not up hence. (Exodus 33:15)

If anyone had seen the glory of God, surely it is the man that spoke with Him face to face; the man for whom the pillar of cloud descended to commune; the man that persuaded the Lord out of His wrath toward a stiffnecked nation. But it is on Moses’ lips that we find this request being uttered next:

And he said, I beseech thee, shew me thy glory. (Exodus 33:18)

Moses knew there was more. There had to be more; more than a cloud, more than a conversation, more than intricately detailed blueprints of a tabernacle, more than an exodus hinged on the miraculous, more than burning bushes and fingertips that write laws on tables of stone. There had to be something in the mind and heart of God that would cause Him to write a narrative like the one Moses was in the middle of fleshing out. He knew he had not experienced the climax of the story.

And the LORD said, Behold, there is a place by me, and thou shalt stand upon a rock: and it shall come to pass, while my glory passeth by, that I will put thee in the clift of the rock, and will cover thee with my hand while I pass by: and I will take away mine hand, and thou shalt see my back parts: but my face shall not be seen. (Exodus 33:19-23)

Moses didn’t get to see it; God’s best feature. He was in the presence of it, it passed before him, but his eyes were covered by the hand of God. The glory that was to be revealed was the fruition of a plan formulated from the foundation of the world: a lamb would be slain unlike any that Moses would ever witness being laid upon a brazen altar. The words that Moses was charged to pen (the five books that make up the Pentateuch) are riddled with prophecies alluding to this glory that remained unseen by his eyes. He knew there was more. There had to be more.

God’s glory was revealed in its purest form when He stepped as low as He could. He descended, robing Himself in the dust He created. He was born in a manger to a humble estate. He walked the earth, being rejected by his own brethren. He proclaimed the name of the Lord. He taught boldly in the streets and in the synagogues and beside wells and in the concealment of the night. He spoke of something to come. He pointed to something glorious. But, glory didn’t look anything like what Israel had expected. Isn’t that typical of humanity? What we see and what Jesus sees are so often divided.
We see Him washing feet. He sees glory. We see a raging storm. He sees glory. Judas’ kiss. Glory. A crown of thorns for the King of the Jews. Glory. A cross on a hill. Glory. Blood stained nails. Glory. “Forgive them for they know not what they do.” Glory.

Often what we search for when we appeal to experience the glory of God is some grand display of power. Consider, however, how much more valuable it is to have power and choose to extend mercy instead. The glory of God writes the story of redemption with the ink of His own blood. You and I both know that the story doesn’t stop there, though. Resurrection is certain and glorious.

I am privileged to have experienced the resurrection. I walk in the power of His Spirit. But, I would walk amiss if I, for even one day, forsook the glory that comes with dying out to my flesh. That redeeming privilege was purchased for me by a God that saw glory as something far more robust than power alone. He is a God to be known in the power of resurrection, and He is a God to be known in the fellowship of sufferings. To truly know His glory is to know Him in both capacities.

So, C.S. Lewis had it right. Glory carries weight, friends. Partaking of it is costly. If you are granted your petition, you will receive far more than the goosebumps that appear when the cloud descends, but there will be a cross to bear. May we find the courage to carry it.