Have You Met With God?

Please turn to Exodus 3. Exodus chapter 3.

Not in a series, but a present. You may pray for the Lord’s direction for me as I come to speak, and you may remember me in your prayers.

Continue to pray for Tim Rogers. He is in good spirits, as I saw him in the hospital, so I pray that his recovery will be swift and that everything will go as hoped by his overseeing medical professionals, surgeons, and doctors, and so on.

Exodus 3 brings us to a very pivotal moment, not only in the life of Moses, but in the record of Israel’s deliverance. So we are going to read the opening twelve verses. As familiar as it is, I trust you will pay attention.

If there is one thing I want you to take away this morning, it is that you cannot meet with God without an impression of His purpose for you being made. You cannot speak of having met with God, or having had a meeting with God, or having experienced a sense of meeting with the Lord without an impression of purpose weighing upon your heart.

When God meets with someone, it inevitably drives away selfishness, self-interest, and all self-centered sins. And when you cast out all self-centered sins, it leaves a vacuum: what am I meant to do?

And that sense of divine purpose upon your life is made, to some degree, though not necessarily in the same way that Moses experienced it, with specific details—such as being called to lead a nation—but a sense of daily purpose.

So let us read Exodus 3, verses 1 through 12.

“Now Moses kept the flock of Jethro his father in law, the priest of Midian: and he led the flock to the backside of the desert and came to the mountain of God, even to Horeb.

“And the angel of the LORD appeared unto him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush: and he looked, and behold the bush burned with fire, and the bush was not consumed.

“And Moses said, I will now turn aside and see this great sight, why the bush is not burnt.

“And when the LORD saw that he turned aside to see, God called unto him out of the midst of the bush and said, Moses, Moses. And he said, Here am I.

“And he said, Draw not nigh hither: put off thy shoes from off thy feet, for the place whereon thou standest is holy ground.

“Moreover he said, I am the God of thy father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob. And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look upon God.

“And the LORD said, I have surely seen the affliction of my people which are in Egypt and have heard their cry by reason of their taskmasters; for I know their sorrows;

“And I am come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land unto a good land and a large, unto a land flowing with milk and honey; unto the place of the Canaanites and the Hittites and the Amorites and the Perizzites and the Hivites and the Jebusites.

“Now therefore, behold the cry of the children of Israel is come unto me: and I have also seen the oppression wherewith the Egyptians oppress them.

“Come now therefore, and I will send thee unto Pharaoh, that thou mayest bring forth my people, the children of Israel, out of Egypt.

“And Moses said unto God, Who am I, that I should go unto Pharaoh and that I should bring forth the children of Israel out of Egypt?

“And he said, Certainly I will be with thee; and this shall be a token unto thee that I have sent thee: When thou hast brought forth the people out of Egypt, ye shall serve God upon this mountain.”

Amen.

We will end the reading of God’s Word, close of verse 12. And what you have heard is the Word of the eternal God, beloved, which you are to receive, believe, and obey. And the people of God said, Amen.

Let us pray.

Father, we pray for grace to recognize how holy You are. We ask, Lord, that You would work in our lives.

What is hindering, Lord? Is it me?

We pray for the Spirit of God. May we all walk worthy of the vocation with which we have been called. May the very name of God be precious to us. How we handle Your name, Your attributes, and Your works reflects the posture of our heart toward You.

Shut us in now. Give us stillness here. Deliver us from the enemy. We ask for time with the Lord. Bless the Spirit of God, and be at work to make much of the Lord Jesus. We pray in our Savior’s name. Amen.

Many of you will know that the period between the Old Testament and the New Testament is approximately 400 years. The time between God speaking through Malachi and the raising up of the prophetic voice of John the Baptist is about four centuries. We refer to that period as the intertestamental period.

It is also recognized as a period of silence in which God did not raise up a prophetic voice for His people. They had the Word, but there was no individual raised up to speak on God’s behalf. Therefore, it is referred to as a period of silence.

But there is another period of silence that is almost as long—about 350 years, from God meeting with Jacob in Beersheba at Genesis 46 to God meeting with Moses in Exodus 3. This is nearly four centuries of silence. God did not speak in the way He had been known to speak, by sending someone, reaching down, or communicating a living word for the moment. This was a period of silence.

This has been a time of great change for the Hebrews, a time of transition. You will know that while Joseph was there, things went well. He brought Jacob and his sons and their wider families down to inhabit Goshen. They were permitted to carry out their shepherding labors there, and so they made their living and lived in that place for a time.

Then a new Pharaoh arose who did not know Joseph and who had no regard for the Hebrews. As the people multiplied and grew, they began to be seen as a threat. The Hebrews were then moved from being shepherds to becoming slaves.

This continued for a season, and as the situation intensified and worsened, the cry of the children of Israel began to rise before God. This is what we are told in summary at the end of chapter 2, just before the passage we began to read.

In verse 23 of chapter 2, it came to pass in the process of time that the king of Egypt died, and the children of Israel sighed because of their bondage. They cried out, and their cry came up to God because of their bondage. And God heard their groaning, and God remembered His covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. And God looked upon the children of Israel, and God had respect unto them.

Their cry was not in vain. No doubt, mingled in that cry was an appeal based on His Word: Did You not promise this to our father? Why then are we living as we are? God, remember Your Word and remember us.

And in the midst of this time of suffering, God begins to move. He raises up a man named Moses, who is specially favored. During a time of intense persecution under the Egyptians, when the goal was to kill all the male children, God preserved Moses. Not only did God preserve him, but He placed him in the palace to be nourished and to receive the best possible education.

This is especially significant when one considers that the Hebrews, who might have had the financial freedom to educate their children, were unable to do so because they were in slavery. God took Moses and placed him in a position of freedom, so that he could receive the highest education and gain a deep understanding of Egyptian culture. This preparation was for a great purpose that was yet to come.

The clarity of God’s providence in all of this is evident. Moses clearly understood that God had done this so that he might become God’s instrument of deliverance. This clarity is not found only in the Old Testament record. It is also evident in Stephen’s speech in Acts 7, where he refers to this period in Acts 7:25: “For he supposed his brethren would have understood how that God by his hand would deliver them.”

This occurred when Moses was about forty years old, just before he became a fugitive and had to flee for his life. Moses knew that God’s hand was at work in his life. He knew that God’s purpose in placing him in the palace was not for his own comfort, but to prepare him to deliver the children of Israel.

Yet Moses acted hastily. He goes out to see his fellow Hebrews and sees one of them being treated unjustly. He kills the Egyptian, believing this act would lead to support from the fellow Hebrews. Instead, they turn against him. Realizing that his deed has been seen and known, he flees for his life.

He runs into the middle of nowhere, where he becomes a shepherd, marries the daughter of a Midianite priest, and spends his life in the wilderness caring for a flock of sheep.

All that education, all that privilege, all that power—now he is a shepherd.

Then the Lord meets with Moses. This is what we read in Exodus 3. I want us to consider this carefully. This passage and scene is rich with meaning. One could develop a series, a fairly extensive series, based on Exodus 3 and 4, both theologically and in application.

But today I want to leave you with a particular thought. I have titled this message, “Are You Prepared to Meet with God?”

I invite you to reflect on this with me. I will explain the implications of this question near the end.

First, consider this: a God who descends. We are meeting with God. We are meeting with a God who descends. He descends. He descends from glory down to where we are.

First, He descends into an ordinary context. As verse 1 shows, Moses is not in a temple, nor in a grand place. He is in the backside of the desert, at the mountain of God, even at Horeb. Horeb is another name for Sinai.

By God’s providence, Moses comes to a place that will become even more significant in God’s plan and purpose for His people. But at this moment, it appears to be just another mountain—no special feature, nothing remarkable about it.

He is there with the sheep, leading them, seeking pasture, and so on, without any knowledge of what is about to occur. This is encouraging for us, because God is not restricted by location. He does not require us to be in a specific geographic place in order to meet with Him.

The gathering of the saints and the manner in which we are brought together this morning are significant; they are not unimportant. Holy convocations, appointed seasons, and specific times for gathering are scriptural and biblical. They have always been so, and they always will be.

You see this from the beginning. Cain and Abel brought their sacrifices. When did they bring them? Where did they bring them? All of this must be understood. There is a time, a place, and a manner.

This has always been true for the people of God, who come together for the worship of God. But God is not limited to these things. He is not confined to seasons or specific places, such as the location where we are meeting now or the way in which we are gathering.

He meets with people wherever they are. Since Eden, when humanity was driven out of the place of paradise, up to the time of Moses, there was no assigned tabernacle and no assigned temple. Yet God still met with His people.

When you read the book of Genesis, you will see this clearly. God met with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and so on. Often, these meetings occurred around an altar—again, a place of worship and sacrifice. But not always was this connected with sacrifice. Go and read Genesis for yourself, and you will notice this.

So God can come and meet with people in these ordinary places, in an ordinary context. This shows how sometimes, in His greatest revelations of Himself, He is found in the most humble setting. It is paving the way, is it not?

In one sense, it gives a glimpse into the fact that God would be found in the stable of Bethlehem. God is found in a very ordinary context. God is pleased to do this. He is pleased to meet with people.

I would say to you, beloved, it is a wise thing to try to bring unbelievers under the preaching of God’s Word in a place like this. It is wise. Our worship is primarily for believers. Its focus is on the worship of God by saints who worship Him. But the gospel is proclaimed. When we consider the law, when we reflect upon it, the only answer is through Jesus Christ.

The gospel is being emphasized, and man’s need is being presented. And through the message, there will be application to those who are lost, and God will use His Word.

It is a wise thing to seek to bring men and women, young people, under the sound of the preached Word. But God is not restricted to save people there. Some of you were converted not in a pew, not in an empty room of a church where you were led there, and not in a pastor’s study. You did not seek the Lord there.

You found the Lord, and the Lord found you in some unusual environment, in some very ordinary environment.

If you can imagine the smallest car on the road in America today, American vehicles tend to be large. It is one of the things you must adjust to when you come from Europe. Because we do not have these massive trucks, and we do not have dual-axle trucks, and so on. You can barely fit a minivan, and so on. You do not have these large vehicles there.

And most people, because of the price of gas and so on, are trying to conserve. The lighter a vehicle, the better. So we drive these very small vehicles. Well, that has always been the way.

The place where the Lord met with me was the back of a small car built in 1990 or thereabouts. It was right there in the back of that car where the Lord met with me.

He met with Saul of Tarsus on a road leading to Damascus while he was engaged in actions that were contrary to the church.

You never know where God will meet with a person, whether in conversion or in communion, to strengthen and commission him. Last week we reflected on this truth: Christ meets people in ordinary places, and sometimes the most extraordinary events occur in such ordinary settings.

Do not diminish this reality. Recognize that your own time with God may be a moment that is memorable, distinct, and deeply impactful, a moment that could change your life forever. Spending time with God, being in a place where His Word is open, and seeking Him through prayer—He may come to you in a way unlike any you have known in recent times.

Thus, He descends into an ordinary context. Yet He also descends in a humble form. He descends in a humble form.

The Lord comes here, and I mean, can you imagine the Creator—the Creator of the entire universe—descending and appearing as fire in a thornbush? If I were to ask you to imagine how God might reveal Himself to humanity, what form He might take, we could be here from now until the return of the Lord Jesus Christ, and we would never arrive at the image of fire in a thornbush.

At least that is my guess. The odds are against us. And yet that is how He appears: fire and a thornbush. You do not even notice a thornbush when you are in the desert. It does not attract attention. It does not draw the eye.

There are things in the desert that capture our attention. Even in desert wildernesses, there can be small areas of beauty and elements that draw our focus. But not a thornbush, which is the sense of the language.

This is how God descends.

I suggest to you that this is an emblem, a depiction, a foreshadowing of how the prophet Isaiah describes the servant of the Lord coming into this world. When God takes our nature, there is no beauty in Him that we should desire. He is not attractive, not appealing, not remarkable.

This is a glimpse into how God will take our nature. It will not be that He will elevate this nature to a degree that people look at Him as they looked at Saul, or as they looked at Goliath. Saul, head and shoulders above all the other Benjamites. Goliath, a being of great stature. That kind of presence is unmistakable. That kind of appearance is impressive.

But when the Son of God takes our nature, there is no beauty. He is very unnoticeable, just like a thornbush in the middle of a wilderness.

I believe the thornbush also signifies His willingness to take on that which is under the curse. This is one of the ways God highlights the fall and its effect on the earth. Thorns and thistles will it bring forth for you.

This is a development. This is a shift. It shows that the earth now resists human labor. The soil will not produce as abundantly as it did. It will not provide for humanity as easily as it once did. Thorns and thistles.

Some of you have already been in your gardens to see how things are after the winter. You have gone out and already seen the vines growing, and thorns and prickly plants appearing. Some of these are plants you did not put there last year, yet they are already present in your garden. You try to remove them every year, to pull them out. Where do they come from? There they are again.

Oh, it preaches to us, does it not? This is an aside, of course, but it preaches. Go out and weed. Go into your yard and let it preach to you. It never ends.

For your own sanctification, Christians lament, it is so hard to be holy. It is a constant battle. Yes, because you must continually remove the weeds. They keep growing back and appear before you in an ugly, unwanted form.

This is our Lord. He was made a curse for us. That is what Paul says. He was made a curse for us. He did not merely take our form. Jesus Christ was made a curse for us. He came under the curse, bore the responsibility of humanity, and endured the consequences of human disobedience, resulting in suffering and death.

The improbability of God dwelling in a bush would leave a lasting impression on the Jewish mind. In Deuteronomy 33, verse 16, it refers to God as the One who dwelt in the bush. It is emphasizing this point. It is the One who dwelt in the bush. It is not merely a historical detail. It is a reminder: never forget this. The One who dwelt in the bush. The One who dwelt in human nature.

That is the amazing aspect of it. It is amazing. The One who dwelt in the bush. We reflect upon the incarnation, we reflect upon God taking flesh, and we sing about it, and we meditate upon it, and we marvel, and we call it the miracle of all miracles.

The making of the universe was comparatively easy and nothing in comparison to God taking our nature. The One who dwelt in the bush. The One who dwells in human nature. The One who continues to dwell.

Oh, even more amazing, this was not temporary. God did not dwell in a bush for a time. God dwells forever in human flesh. Jesus Christ. It is amazing. It is truly amazing.

As amazing as it is, and as improbable as it would be for us to imagine God ever revealing Himself in a bush, even more improbable is that God would reveal Himself in our nature, that God would become man and dwell among us.

You are so familiar with this truth that you are no longer amazed by it. We are all so familiar with it that it has become merely a doctrinal detail—information, a truth with which we have become accustomed.

Let me urge you, child of God: it ought to be the most amazing thing to consider. God took my nature. He took our nature. He is currently in a human form like mine.

“The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us,” John writes in John 1:14.

The fire of divinity inhabits this humble frame. Two distinct natures in one person forever.

How does the glory of the divine not consume this human nature? This is the same question Moses might have asked: what sight is this, that the bush is burning yet not consumed? He turned aside to see the bush burning but not consumed.

Human nature, united with the divine, yet not consumed.

He descends with redemption in view. He descends with redemption in view. The theophany, the revelation of God here, is not an end in itself. It does not appear to Moses merely to give him excitement or to break the monotony of the day.

Verse 7: “And the LORD said, I have surely seen the affliction of my people which are in Egypt, and have heard their cry by reason of their taskmasters; for I know their sorrows.”

Oh, I know their sorrows.

A man of sorrows, acquainted with grief. I know their sorrows. Here is a God who condescends to understand the sorrows of His people.

“And I am come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians,” and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land, and so on and so forth. I am come down to deliver. He descends with redemption in view.

Increasingly, there is a rise of another form of liberal theology. I want you to be very careful. I want you to be fully alert. This idea can gradually enter your thinking.

Over a hundred years ago, the rise of liberal churches and similar movements led to an increasing emphasis on the role of the church in its social impact on the world, and a decreasing emphasis on the redemptive work of Jesus Christ—taking our place, dealing with our sins, standing in our stead, dying for us vicariously, and so on.

The preaching ministry that proclaimed that humanity’s fundamental problem is not one that another person can solve, but one that must be resolved by the Son of God who took our human nature, began to diminish.

Liberal ideas enter. They adopt the claim that we are here to do good for society.

Now, am I opposing the emphasis on social good that Christians should have? No, but this good must flow downward from the gospel. It must not be elevated to replace the gospel.

There are preachers today—I will not mention their names—who are considered orthodox, who are being read by evangelicals, and who are helpful in certain areas, and who touch on some of the needs of our time.

Case in point, we live in a distracted age. You know that. People are embracing this distraction. They are emphasizing the need to create quiet time to seek God, to set aside time to withdraw from the busyness and clutter of the world. They are highlighting these matters, and other similar concerns that deserve attention and emphasis in the present time.

That is true, but they are also leading people to question whether they are truly lost, or whether sin is truly the problem. Perhaps we are simply called to be the hands and feet of Jesus Christ, working to improve the world and relieve suffering.

This idea is not new. It is old. It is merely repackaged and presented in different words by another false teacher with a different name.

Beware. Beware when people attempt to minimize the reality of sin and its consequences.

The focus is clear: God is coming down to meet with Moses in this way, not merely to relieve the suffering of the Israelites, but to save them. This is a redemptive act. It is an act of deliverance that reaches even to their souls. For the full meaning of this message, you will look to the Passover.

Thus, God descends—a God who comes down.

In the second place, consider a God who transcends. There is also a God who transcends, revealed in the divine presence. The ordinary wilderness becomes a place of sanctuary. The ground on which Moses stands becomes holy. There is something different about it. It is ordinary, yet the presence of God makes the difference.

The presence of God was in the Garden of Eden, at Sinai, and in the tabernacle. The tabernacle had to be constructed and dismantled repeatedly. It had to be assembled and taken apart again and again. In this process, inevitably, someone might walk over the very ground where the Most Holy Place once stood.

But it is the presence of God that makes a difference. It is that which sets it apart.

And so here, in this ordinary context, God descends, and the significance of the place changes because of the presence of the One who is there. We mentioned this last week as well.

Moses then crosses a threshold because God is there. He is standing now, not in an ordinary place, but because God is there, it has been elevated to be a holy place, a set-apart place. He is in the immediate presence of God.

“I am the God of thy father, the God of Abraham.” I am the One who met with your fathers. I am the One who gave promises to your fathers. I am the same God. Not a new God, not an invented God, not a God of Moses’ imagination. It is the God who led his forefathers. And He made promises to them, and He will keep them. God will keep His Word. He is not like man. He will never lie.

And He has told Moses, that is, draw not near, verse 5. Recognize that this is different. Do not come near. Do not walk in here without understanding where you are coming from and how you are approaching.

I wish more would understand this, all of us, all of us, that we would have a greater sense of reverence about entering into the presence of God. Because I fear we break the very commandment we considered this morning, because we come into God’s presence in such a light manner.

The opening words we use in prayer are often spoken before we have even thought about what it is we are doing.

I have caught myself doing this. I chasten myself when I do. And when I bow to pray, in Your presence or in any other context, I bow, and it is almost as if I close my eyes and come into a posture of prayer, and I begin to speak words. Sometimes I catch myself in that moment. Sometimes it is as I reflect upon something, hear a sermon, or something I preached, or reflect afterwards, that it comes to me in some way, and I note this.

How immediate is the language and speech that comes from me as I enter into prayer? I think to myself, there is no possible way that I have begun to reflect on who God is before those words come out of my mouth.

What am I doing then? What am I doing?

This is widespread today. There is no sense of awe. There is no sense of coming near with reverence. Where has that gone?

We are facing strong challenges that have significantly changed how we think about God. We have made Him too small. We can carry Him in our pocket with no awareness of His greatness.

Where is awe? Where is worship today? This God who transcends all—where is He?

I am not here to point fingers at all the places where this applies. I am here to reflect on us, you and me. Do we know the One we approach? Do we consider what we are doing?

Come not nigh thither.

Certainly, this reminds us that we cannot enter God’s presence in any casual way. For you and for me, it is necessary to remember: if I am not to come near in any ordinary manner, yet I desire to draw near, how do I draw near?

This leads us to consider the mediator. It leads us to reflect on what God has provided so that we may approach Him. It leads us to recognize that God took our nature, and His Son came into the world. He lived in perfect obedience on our behalf. He died on the cross on our behalf. He did all this as a mediator, standing in our place to enable us to approach God.

Without Him, there is no access to God. He is a consuming fire.

Therefore, when you read this language—draw not nigh hither—ask yourself: if I wish to enter God’s presence, I must carry with me a believing trust in the person and work of Christ. This holy ground is not inaccessible. But it can only be reached through the One who has opened the way.

I am not urging upon you the transcendence of God in such a way that you conclude, I can never come near God. That is not the intended conclusion.

The conclusion is: has God made provision for me to come now? And He has. Jesus Christ. He beckons you to come to Him. He invites you to believe in Him, to trust in Him, to rest in Him.

“I am the door.” “By me if any man enter in, he shall be saved.” I am the door. You do not come in any way. “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” No man cometh unto the Father but by Me. “There is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus.”

This is also seen in the human response. This transcendence of God is not only seen in how He appears in fire and the command He gives to take off his shoes, but it is also seen in the human response.

What does Moses do that God did not tell him to do?

At the end of verse 6, “Moses hid his face; for he was afraid to look upon God.” This communicates something, does it not? The natural response of a human being in the presence of God is to hide his face.

This is before Moses reads about the cherubim in Isaiah 6, who have six wings and use one pair to cover their faces. This is before that. It is the natural response of a creature in the presence of God to hide his face.

Peter fell down before the Lord Jesus when he saw a glimpse of His divine power in the catch of fish. “Depart from me; for I am a sinful man, O Lord,” he said. Luke 5. John, in Revelation 1, fell down as one dead. There are other examples as well.

The human response. This God transcends.

Here is one who will stand face to face with Pharaoh, one of the mightiest men on earth. And he will not fear him. But he hides his face from God.

This is the kind of preparation necessary. Moses is going to be sent, and all the might of Egypt is going to come against him. That might will be reflected in the deities of the Egyptians. Moses needs to know that no god of the Egyptians is like this God. He can confront them, oppose them, bring them down, but this God he turns his face from.

He transcends every other being and everything else that we can understand.

Finally, not only see a God who descends and a God who transcends, but in the end, a God who sends. A God who sends.

The purpose of God is to send Moses. In verse 11, Moses says, “Who am I, that I should go unto Pharaoh?” And God replies, “Certainly I will be with thee.”

He sends, and He has a purpose for Moses. He meets with him to impress upon him the purpose. And this purpose is connected to redemption.

This is true for all of us. God meets with us to commission us for a purpose of spreading His glory. Others, especially when we consider this evangelistically, may come to know Christ, and may experience and know the power of the blood to cleanse away their sins, and the indwelling Spirit that affirms to them that they are now the children of God.

He sends those who lack self-confidence. Who am I that I should go? Who am I?

Moses is not being falsely modest here. Forty years of obscurity have deeply affected him. The vigor and conviction he once had, which God had raised him up to deliver the Israelites, had completely faded by the time he reached eighty years of age. He has no confidence in himself at all.

All his education, all his former power, all his past achievements and positions—none of these give him any sense of confidence now. Having tried to deliver Israel by his own strength, Providence had made him a fugitive, and he spent forty years in obscurity.

Now, God comes to meet with him as a broken man.

Who am I? Who am I?

You are still Moses. You are still the unique individual raised in the household of the palace. But in terms of himself, who am I? This is the kind of person God uses—those who have been stripped of self-confidence.

We constantly measure ourselves. Do we not? We often speak about our achievements, or mention small details about what we have done or not done.

God does not care about such measures. He does not care. He is not pleased with you exaggerating your achievements, nor is He pleased with you diminishing what is truly significant.

To say, “I am a worm and nothing,” is not genuine humility. Such a claim is quickly exposed, as Tozer observed. A man may come before God and say, “I am a worm and a nobody,” but then, when someone offers even one criticism, he immediately defends himself as if he were something.

The power is not in ourselves.

Also, He sends His presence, not just a person. He does not only send those who lack self-confidence, but He sends His presence, not just a person. That is what verse 12 gives.

What confidence? “Certainly I will be with thee.” In other words, that is all that matters. It is not you, Moses. Do not misunderstand. I am sending you, but it is not your power that will achieve this. You are not going to be the Redeemer. You are not going to be the one to keep My word.

Right?

This is about God fulfilling His word. I promised Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and all their descendants, that I would bring them into this land. I promised that. And I will keep My word. But the fulfillment of My word does not depend on you.

Let that sink in.

Then apply it to the Great Commission. Apply it to the fact that Christ has said, “I will build my church; and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” Read that promise in light of what we have just seen here.

God will fulfill His word. God will fulfill it, not you. He promised something, and He will do it. Moses is a vessel. He is an instrument. God’s means are men.

When you consider what Christ is doing, will do, and will not be prevented from doing—building His church—He is not depending on you or on me.

Christ says, “I will build my church,” and then He is in heaven, not hoping and saying, “Oh, Mr. Thomassian, please work hard. I hope you do well. The advancement of the church in Greenville depends on you. My purposes for Greenville depend on you. Please, I’m cheering you on.”

That is not the case.

Nor is He looking at you and saying, My purpose for Greenville depends on you. He has made a promise. He will fulfill it. His presence will make a difference.

What do you need when you leave here? You need the presence of God. When you wake up in the morning, what do you need? The presence of God.

Is it any wonder that the emphasis in John 14, 15, and 16—a recurring emphasis that keeps returning—undergirds so much that is said there and promised, is the fact that they will not be left alone? The Holy Spirit is with them.

Is it any wonder, then, that the Great Commission is given in conjunction with the promise: “Lo, I am with you alway.”

It is living in an awareness of His presence within us, being conscious of it, inviting it, and living in the promise of it. If you take care of this, His purpose through you will be fulfilled. Take care of this.

And He sends out of compassion for His people. Time has passed, but we have already reflected on this. In verses 7 through 9, you see how God says, “I have surely seen, I have heard, I know their sorrows.”

He sees. He hears. He knows.

There are people in our community, and we are to have compassion for them because God is a God of compassion. He sees. He hears. He knows. You are to see, hear, know, and respond.

It is the presence of God in your life that will make the difference.

So do you want to meet with God? Do you?

I want you to keep this in mind: the desire to meet with God, whether here or at home or anywhere else, brings with it an obligation.

I want the presence of God. I want to meet with God.

Are you also open to what He says: “Here is what I want you to do”?

Because He has given you a word. He has told every one of you to be a witness for Him, to be a witness for Him. He has already given this commission. He has commissioned me. He has commissioned you. He has called us.

And so, in meeting with Him, He is impressing afresh upon every heart.

What does this mean? My presence with you is to advance My purposes on the earth.

Jesus says, “If I be lifted up, I will draw all men unto me.”

Go out from this place, long to meet with God, but submit to the responsibility that comes with it. That if He meets with you, He is also commissioning you.

Go, preach the gospel. Live for Him.

Let us bow together in prayer.

Christian, you are already commissioned. The Lord, in His Word, has met with you. He has given it. The command is clear. Make much of Christ through your ordinary work, whether tending sheep in the wilderness, or standing on a factory floor, or sitting in an office. Wherever you are, you are commissioned.

God meets with you so that He might send you. Go in the might of His presence.

Lord, help us. Help us to keep our minds fixed upon what You have promised.

It is not Moses who will deliver the children of Israel. It is not us who will deliver our neighbors. I pray that we might be instruments of honor, vessels in the hand of God, useful for His purposes. And may it have an evangelical purpose, to bring the mercy of the gospel to the hearts of men and women.