The Place of Rest

“With [God's] left hand he governs the world through the ordinances of the word.  And now he has suddenly removed his left hand, and we are committed with an unparalleled immediacy and exclusiveness to God’s right hand. Now we have to reach out for this right hand of God and let it be the pillow on which we rest, the watcher at our bed, the guide on our dark and uncertain path, and our staff in the valley of the shadow.”                            ~Martin Luther

 Scripture: Exodus 33:1–16

Moses was leaving the slopes of Horeb and venturing into uncharted territory, moving from the known into the unknown. He had no idea what he would encounter in the wilderness. He only knew that  a vast untracked and terrible desert lay ahead, inhabited by militant and merciless foes. The future seemed dark and foreboding—as do our days of grave uncertainty. “How widespread are the anthrax mailings?” we ask ourselves. “When and where will Al-Qaeda strike next?”  “What will the market and the economy do?” “What was, may be less dark than what is to be,” Tolkien said.

Furthermore, God had distanced himself from His people, as a sign of which His tent had been moved “outside the camp some distance away.”  And are there not days that we wonder if God has written us off in our sin? And then there was Moses’ loneliness. Leaders are always lonely, or so it seems to me. Though he lived among millions, Moses had no equals, no spiritual peers, no counselor wiser than he, no one to whom he could unburden his heart and be understood. He bore alone on his shoulders the burden of his people, like Atlas carrying the world.

In these circumstances God gave Moses this bold assurance: “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” 

Note well the place where that assurance was given—in the tent that Moses pitched for God outside the camp, the “tent of meeting.” This is the place where, “the Lord would speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks with his friend.” Here Moses found counsel for the peril of his day.

Here an amazing dialogue took place. Moses reminded God of past assurances: “You have said, ‘I know you by name and you have found favor with me.’” Thus his great heart was emboldened to ask for more: “If you are pleased with me, teach me your ways so I may know you and continue to find favor with you . . .” Or put another way: “Will you be my very counselor and companion?” And God replied readily, “My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.”

The second person pronouns are singular. “My presence will go with you, and I will give you peace. There was no guarantee that God would accompany the nation, or even that the nation would survive. Nor did God promise that Moses would enjoy a careless life of affluence and ease. He only promised to be with His servant and make him a center of peace in the midst of the turmoil and uncertainty of his day.

He will do the same for you. As you meet with Him in the place of meeting, as He speaks His words into your heart, He will utter the same promise: “My presence will go with you and I will give you peace.” This is your guarantee.

F. B. Meyer, in quaint Victorian manner envisions a forest:

A group of tired, frightened children are cowering around the bole of an old tree, dropping the fragile, withered flowers from their hands and pinafores, as the first great drops of the thunder shower, which had been darkening the sky, begin to fall. They have lost their way; they sob bitterly, and crowd together. Suddenly through the wood there comes a quick step, beneath which the twigs crackle and break. Father has come, and as he carries some in his strong arms through the storm on the nearest track for home, the others run at his side. In his presence there is rest.

~David Roper