Let Your Face Shine

They were God’s vineyard. As a vine brought out of Egypt, they had driven out the nations, been planted, and had taken deep root in a land prepared for them. And for a time they flourished. They had grown to such stature that the hills were covered with their shadow, and the mighty cedars were dwarfed by their boughs. The extent of their branches reached from the Sea to the River (Ps. 80:8-11). But that was then.

Now, the walls of the vineyard lay broken down. Anyone who passed by could walk in and take of the fruit as they pleased. Without protection, wild animals came and uprooted the vine and devoured it (80:12-13). For the vineyard was being judged. It had run wild, turning it’s back on the One who had planted it, determining to follow it’s own course, and now the Vinedresser was undertaking some serious restorative pruning.

And what captures me this morning is the degree of desperation expressed by the songwriter as he intercedes for the vineyard, for Israel. They had turned their back on their God and now, as they looked heavenward, all they saw was God’s back turned toward them. And so, three times in his song, the psalmist cries out for God’s face.

Restore us, O God; let Your face shine, that we may be saved!

(Ps. 80:3, 7, 19 ESV)

Sin had severed fellowship to such an extent that, in His restorative purposes, God had determined it necessary to give Israel over to her enemies in order to turn back her heart. And that heart was now crying out to the “Shepherd of Israel”, to the One “enthroned upon the cherubim” (80:1). And the heart’s plea? “Let Your face shine!”

Their great need was to be delivered from their enemies. Their great desire was to be restored to the former days. And so they cried out, knowing that their hearts must be turned again toward their God.

But in order for God to turn them back to Himself, He must first, in His compassion, determine to turn Himself again toward them. The means of accomplishing their restoration would require God to graciously cause His face to shine upon them. To illuminate their hearts with His presence. To dispel the darkness of self-will with the light of His being. What they wanted was to turn back and renew their relationship with their God. What they needed was His presence.

And while I’m not sitting here this morning as a vineyard stripped of it’s protection, there is something about the psalmist’s plea that resonates within me. A certain connection with the desperate desire to have the face of God shine. That His face might ward off darkness. That a fresh glimpse of His glory would dispel any complacency. That He would fan into flame the fire lit long ago and reclaim a sometimes distracted heart solely for Himself. There’s value, I think, to periodic sanctified “panic attacks” that drive you back to the throne of grace wanting to know afresh His presence. Seeking to be renewed and revived in the inner man.

Yeah, I’m thinking I shouldn’t wait until the vineyard is overrun with weeds and the walls have been broken down because of neglect. But rather, I should cry out to Him daily, desperately desiring for His face to shine and for His Spirit to revive and restore.

Let Your face shine, O God.

That we might be restored. That we might be found faithful.

All by Your grace. Only for Your glory.

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What Else Could They Want?

I know I’ve read it a number of times before in my morning readings. The fact has been repeatedly stated in Numbers, Deuteronomy, and Joshua. So, it’s not like it came as a surprise to them when Joshua brings it up again as they are divvying out the land. But this morning it jumped off the page. This morning it had me sit back in wonder. This morning I connected the Levites’ lot with mine and couldn’t help but think, what else could they want?

There were still seven tribes of Israel that had not yet had their part in the promised land apportioned to them. And Joshua says, “It’s time. Let’s get this done!” They were to scout out the remaining land and then cast lots to determine God’s plan for the tribes of Benjamin, Simeon, Zebulen, Issachar, Asher, Naphtali, and Dan. But that still left one tribe with no inheritance.

“The Levites have no portion among you, for the priesthood of the LORD is their heritage.”

(Joshua 18:17a ESV)

It’s not like the Levites would have nowhere to live or no fields to work. Within each of the tribes of Israel there were cities and pasturelands allotted to the different Levitical family lines (see Joshua 21). But while they were provided for, they had no portion. While they would partake of the fruit of the land, they had no possession in it.

Everyone else got something they could call their own. The Levites received the priesthood. Everyone else could hand the deed to their land to their children. The Levites could pass on how to minister in the holy place. Everyone else could measure and count what was rightfully theirs. The Levites could point to the curtain and declare with confidence that the glory which resided there was to be their legacy, that the LORD was their inheritance as He had promised them (Num. 18:20, Deut. 18:2).

While God would provide for their needs, they would live life having nothing to call their own save for Him alone. Sounds like a principle to be applied to every priesthood of God, doesn’t it?

. . . you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ. . . . you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for His own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light.

(1Peter 2:5, 9 ESV)

Along with all those who have believed in Christ as the Son of God come to redeem sinners, I have been incorporated as part of a holy priesthood permitted to enter the holy of holies with spiritual sacrifices pleasing to God. As a follower of Jesus, the Risen Savior, I have been called to join a royal priesthood given the privilege of bringing the light of the glory of God to a world enveloped in darkness. If I never owned a thing, what else could I want?

Oh to be satisfied fully in the LORD as my inheritance. To have no need beyond the blessing of being called to enter the holy of holies and boldly approach His throne of grace. To not worry about what I own, but to view all that I have as “on loan”, a sacred trust as I fulfill my priestly duties.

Then would I cease flailing about trying to increase my gain in the world, but would concern myself only with being faithful in anticipation of the kingdom of God. I would stop clawing and fighting to hold onto what I think is mine and instead, realizing that nothing I have has not been gifted to me, I would seek first that kingdom, believing that all other things will be added as He graciously determines.

The Levites were to minister where the glory of Jehovah would dwell. They would eat of the food given to the LORD as His food. Their heritage was to forever be tied to the eternal God. What else could they want?

I am part of His present holy priesthood. A member of His forever family. A child of the eternal God. What else could I want?

Not a thing.

His grace is more than sufficient. He glory to be forever proclaimed.

Amen?

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How Will God Set the Table?

Easy to forget . . . especially when times are tough. And in that forgetfulness, while walking in the wilderness, maybe a propensity to question whether the God who once was able to deliver, is still able to continue to provide.

That’s why the songwriter wrote the song; so that “the glorious deeds of the LORD and His might, and the wonders that He has done” wouldn’t be forgotten (Ps. 78:4b). So that neither the psalmist’s generation, nor the generations to follow, would find themselves in a place of unbelief and mistrust as they questioned in their hearts, “Can God set the table?”

He split rocks in the wilderness and gave them drink abundantly as from the deep. He made streams come out of the rock and caused waters to flow down like rivers. Yet they sinned still more against Him, rebelling against the Most High in the desert. They tested God in their heart by demanding the food they craved. They spoke against God, saying, “Can God spread a table in the wilderness? He struck the rock so that water gushed out and streams overflowed. Can He also give bread or provide meat for His people?

(Psalm 78:15-20 ESV)

A time in the desert was part of God’s plan of deliverance. To get from the slavery of Egypt to the milk and honey of the promised land would require a bit of a journey, and sometimes through some less than ideal conditions. Thirst, at times, should be expected. Hunger, not a surprise. But with a column of cloud before them by day, and the pillar of fire by night, they should have known from whence their help comes from.

From where does my help come? My help comes from the LORD, who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved; He who keeps you will not slumber.

(Psalm 12:1b-3 ESV)

The wilderness not only tested them physically, but it tested their heart, as well. And most of those who walked out of Egypt failed the test. Thus, they are presented as a warning. As a “stubborn and rebellious generation, a generation whose heart was not steadfast, whose spirit was not faithful to God . . . because they did not believe in God and did not trust His saving power” (78:8, 22). And thus they spoke against God, saying, “Can God really set the table?”

Short answer? Yes, He can!

Our God is able to prepare a table in the wilderness. The God who delivers is the One who invites us to dine, every day and in all circumstance. He who promised a land will faithfully provide lunch until we get there, even when getting there gets hard.

In fact, some of the most precious meals are found in the most barren of deserts when we know that God, and God alone, has provided the nourishment. Times when we are spent. Times when we have nothing left in the tank. And yet, from somewhere we are renewed in the inner man. Our spirit’s thirst quenched by rivers of living water sourced deep within through His abiding Spirit (John 7:38-30). Our soul’s hunger satisfied as it chews on the Word of God. It’s there, in barren surroundings, where God will, again and again, set the table and invite us to sup.

We might be prone to forget when times are tough, but the songwriter calls us to remember. To not be so consumed with the struggle that we forget the Savior. But to know that our God is a faithful and compassionate God who has promised never to leave us nor forsake us.

And so the question for today is not, “Can God set the table?” but, “How will God set the table?”

Believing He will by His grace. Trusting He will for His glory.

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Unseen Footprints

Chewing on Psalm 77 this morning. Don’t know the situation, but recognize something of the symptoms.

The songwriter speaks of sleepless nights when it was as if God were holding open his eyelids (v.4). Of a mind that can’t stop racing as it takes repeated inventory of all that is not going right and anticipating what else could go wrong. Of seemingly unending soul searching, “Is God still there? Has His unfailing love failed? Have His promises been forgotten? Has the deep well of grace gone dry? Will I not know His kindness again?” (v. 6b-9). So much running through the psalmist’s head as he lays in his bed at night that any attempt at prayer comes out only as mere groans (v.2-3).

Yet, by God’s enabling power, the channel changes in the midnight hour. Previews of the next disaster are replaced with re-runs of the “wonders of old.” The mighty deeds of the LORD are remembered. His past deliverance replayed. His faithful provision recounted. Every evidence of His powerful presence recalled (v.11-12). And then, the breakthrough . . .

Your way, O God, is holy. What god is great like our God? You are the God who works wonders; You have made known Your might among the peoples.

(Psalm 77:13-14 ESV)

Yeah, sounds familiar.

But here’s what kind of grabbed me this morning–the God-breathed words that resonated deeply in my soul.

Your way was through the sea, Your path through the great waters; yet Your footprints were unseen.

(Psalm 77:19 ESV)

I guess God could have made the way out of Egypt easy. But He didn’t. He led His people to stand before a seemingly impassible sea as they looked over their shoulders at a fast approaching enemy. Situation bad . . . and soon to get worse. No going forward. No going back. What to think? Is God still there? They were trapped. Or so it appeared.

But the way of the Almighty was to encounter the sea and then pass through it. The path of the One who had gathered them to Himself as a flock was to lead them through great waters, though they couldn’t imagine how. And this, all accomplished with unseen footprints.

Though there was every indicator He had gone before them, yet there was no forensic evidence. His ways of working were deep. The manifestation of His power the only proof of His presence. But no visible footprints.

And so, as he lay awake, his mind racing, the songwriter has an expectation that just as He had led in the past, God would lead in the future, though there might be no empirical proof.

Such, I guess, is the walk of faith. Knowing He has. Believing He will.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the LORD your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.”

(Isaiah 43:1b-3a ESV)

Counting on unseen footprints to make plain the path forward.

By His grace. For His glory.

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That You May Know

It wasn’t just the words. It was everything. While what He said was carefully chosen in order to reveal great truth, everything else that had led up to speaking them had first passed through the fingers of His sovereign hand. And all of it, “that you may know.”

Typically, when I chew on the story in Mark 2 of Jesus healing the paralytic in the house with the hole in the roof, I focus either on the works of the five men or the words of the Savior to the paralytic.

The works of the men showed their faith. The four believed Jesus had power to heal and so were willing to haul their paralyzed buddy across town to see Jesus. And the paralytic demonstrated his faith by his willingness to be hauled. The five of them then agree to go for the roof when the doors were jammed with people. And then, of one accord, they execute Project Skylight–making an opening in the roof and lowering the paralytic before Jesus.

. . . and I will show you my faith by my works.

(James 2:18b ESV)

Or what about Jesus’ words? He could have chosen to be less inflammatory. But he knew His audience. Though great faith lay before Him, Jesus was also aware of the skeptics and the opposition around Him. And so rather than lead with “take up your mat and walk,” Jesus instead chose to reveal the connection between faith and forgiveness.

And when Jesus saw their faith, He said to the paralytic, “My son, your sins are forgiven.”

(Mark 2:5 ESV)

“Blasphemy!” thought His critics. “Who can forgive sins but God alone?” the opposition reasoned within themselves. But though His enemies questioned Him in their hearts, Jesus heard them clearly with His ears of divine omniscience. And it’s His response to them that has me thinking this morning.

“Why do you question these things in your hearts? Which is easier, to say to the paralytic, ‘Your sins are forgiven,’ or to say, ‘Rise, take up your bed and walk’? But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins”–He said to the paralytic–“I say to you, rise, pick up your bed, and go home.” And he rose and immediately picked up his bed and went out before them all, so that they were all amazed and glorified God, saying, “We never saw anything like this!”

(Mark 2:8b-12 ESV)

That you may know . . . those are the words I’m chewing on this morning.

That’s what it was all about . . . ALL of it. Not just telling the man to take up his mat and walk. Not just the provocative declaration of sins forgiven. But even that the man was paralyzed in the first place, that too was allowed by Jesus, that you may know.

His suffering permitted according to heaven’s plan. That out of such trial, such desperation would be known that no effort would be spared to come to the feet of the Master. Even the doors were barricaded by bodies according to divine design. The hole in the roof also written in God’s sovereign script. All of it, so that you may know the Son of man has authority on earth. Authority to forgive sins. The right to reconcile sinners. The power to preserve the saints.

All of it . . . that you may know. Every aspect of life an opportunity for Jesus to be revealed. Every blessing, every trail . . . every mountain top, every valley . . . all of it filled with potential to see the Savior intervene and to hear the Son speak.

Nobody wants to be the paralytic. And we’d probably just as soon avoid the effort of carrying other’s burdens only to find doors blocked. Who wants to phone the insurance adjuster and try and explain how the hole in the roof got there? But all of it led to a fresh encounter with the Son of God. To hearing those words of life, “Your sins are forgiven.” To seeing the power of Jesus as a paralytic picked up his bed and walked home.

All of it, that you may know.

And they were all amazed. Me too.

Amazed at such grace. Amazed for His glory.

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Jesus Cares

His words were few. His situation was evident. His desperation understandable. So there was no need for a lot of explanation on his part. Instead, the leper approached Jesus, fell to his knees and, according to Mark’s account, begged Him to intervene with just eight single-syllable words:

“If You will, You can make me clean.”   (Mark 1:40 ESV)

That Jesus was able was without question. The leper had heard enough, maybe even seen enough, to know, without a shadow of a doubt, the power this Man of Nazareth possessed. Able? Check! Willing? Well that was the question.

If You are willing, You can make me clean. The leper had planted his mustard seed of faith. His desire to be clean greater than the law’s requirement that he keep his distance. But his desire alone couldn’t provide the healing so desperately sought after. Nothing he could do could take away the disease. He was stained, and without any resources of his own to make himself clean. But if Jesus was willing, He could make Him clean.

And Jesus was. And Jesus did.

Moved with pity, He stretched out His hand and touched him and said to him, “I will; be clean.” And immediately the leprosy left him, and he was made clean.

(Mark 1:41-42 ESV)

And what’s got me thinking this morning is the dynamic that took “If you will” and transformed it into “I will.”

Jesus was moved with pity, or as the other translations put it, Jesus was moved with compassion. And that was the driver for Jesus’ willingness to heal. The Lord’s compassion is what took an expression of faith and converted it into a demonstration of fact.

Jesus cared for this desperate soul–and cared deeply. He didn’t just feel sorry for the man, but Jesus entered into and sympathized with the leper’s situation. He felt the effects of the disease, physically and emotionally. He knew the separation that accompanied it because of the law. He was not unaware that the life of a diseased beggar was far below the abundant life for which the man had been created. Jesus was moved with compassion.

He was stirred deep inside. Moved within. And thus, He who was able became willing. And, He who could have simply spoken the word of healing, in tenderness determined, instead, to stretch out His hand and touch a man who likely had not felt the skin of any other human for years. Not because the man deserved it, though he had faith, but because the heart of heaven was moved and determined to respond with abundant favor.

“If You will” became “I will” because Jesus cares. That’s what I’m chewing on this morning. Not only does the Lord of Creation know, He cares. Not only is He aware of our weakness, but He is moved by it. Moved enough to respond. Moved enough to stretch out His hand and allow us to feel the warmth of His touch.

Jesus cares. Mine is to humbly bow before Him with my need. In simple faith to call to the Master, “If You are willing, I know You can.”

Does Jesus care when I’ve said “goodbye”
To the dearest on earth to me,
And my sad heart aches till it nearly breaks
Is it aught to Him? Does He see?

Oh, yes, He cares, I know He cares,
His heart is touched with my grief;
When the days are weary, the long nights dreary,
I know my Savior cares.

~ Frank E. Graeff, 1901

Such is His grace. To Him be all glory.

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That We Might Understand

Saturday we gathered together with confidence. As we remembered our so evident loss, yet we equally celebrated her so certain gain. Though we acknowledged the reality of the difficulty here and now, we affirmed the surety of reunion there and then. All with confidence. Confidence which allowed us to sing, to laugh, to cry, and to rejoice in the blessings and impact of a life well lived and the glory we’re sure it brought to her God.

So how could we do this with confidence? How could what so many consider the unknown be affirmed by so many as known? How was it that what is unseen could be so real? That beyond some pie-in-the-sky-sweet-by-and-by sentiment it becomes a rock of certain footing as we anticipate uncertain days? At least in part, it’s because of that spiritual dynamic we’ve entered into as part of the grace we’ve known. A dynamic we can often taken for granted. A power we’ve have been tethered to so that we might understand.

But, as it is written, “What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love Him”–these things God has revealed to us through the Spirit. For the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God. For who knows a persons thoughts except the spirit of that person, which is in him? So also no one comprehends the thoughts of God except the Spirit of God. Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might understand the things freely given us by God.

(1Corinthians 2:9-12 ESV)

Even though the song says, “I can only imagine . . .”, apart from the active agency of the Spirit’s illumination, we really can’t. Even though we can know a lot about what the Bible teaches, its pages remain only one set of facts and data until the Spirit of God reveals it to our minds and hearts as life-giving, life-altering truth.

It really should be awe-invoking. The Spirit who searches everything, even the depths of God, indwells the believer so that He might lead us into all truth. He interacts with our mind through our spirit so that we might comprehend something of the mind of God towards us–thoughts that are not our thoughts and ways that are not our ways. “For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts” (Isa. 55:8-9).

And yet, by the Father’s loving determination, through the miraculous active dynamic of the Spirit’s power, we mere mortals can know something of the mind of the eternal Christ (1Cor. 2:16)

How prone we are to take for granted this amazing miraculous dynamic. Given freely so that we might understand.

To know assuredly what was once unknown. To see with certainty that which is unseen. To anticipate confidently what God has prepared for those who love Him.

All through the Spirit of God in us. Freely given that we might understand.

. . . for I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep what I have committed to Him until that Day.

(2Timothy 1:12 NKJV)

By His grace. For His glory.

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Sue’s Memorial

For those who wanted to join us to remember Sue but were unable to make the trip, we’re hoping you can join us via a livestream of the service.

Lord willing, it should come online Saturday, March 25th, a little before 11:00 a.m. PDT.

Click here to join.

 

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=ql-FIFTFQro

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Info only . . .

No post this morning. My mind is kind of cluttered as we enter into final preparation for Sue’s memorial tomorrow.

But wanted to let those who knew Sue and can’t make it to the memorial, or to the one in Kelowna on May 6, know that we are going to try and Livestream the service tomorrow at 11:00 a.m. We’ll get the link to the Livestream posted as soon as we have it.

Welcome your prayer cover as we gather to remember Sue and exalt her Savior.

 

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Two Desires

Reaching into the archives this morning and dusting off some thoughts from 2009. Found chewing again on the tension found in Moses’ death helpful as we continue to deal with the reality of sojourning without her.

——-

Wrapped up Deuteronomy this morning. And I’m not quite sure all that should be concluded by the death of Moses. Moses, the prophet of God, unlike any prophet before or after him, save for Christ Himself. Moses, the man whom “the Lord knew face to face” (Deut. 34:10). Moses, the only man (at least that I can think of) who was buried by God Himself (34:6). Moses, the man who came up short of the promise but received the prize. So what’s the application?

Moses is still in the prime of life . . . well, mostly. Yeah, he’s 120 years old (imagine the candles on that cake) but, the Scriptures say, “His eye was undimmed, and his vigor unabated” (34:7). It’s not just that he still had 20/20 vision, the Hebrew word apparently has reference to mental qualities, as well. In other words, at 120, Moses was still as sharp as a tack. He still had it all together. He could have led quite ably for a number of more years. And it’s not just that his mind was in tact, he was still as strong as ever. Literally the translation is, “nor had his moisture fled.” This wasn’t some hunched over, wrinkled up old dude. His vitality was also still in tact. Maybe not quite Charleton Heston  like, but could have been. The point is, Moses did not die of “natural causes.”

No, Moses died there . . . on Mount Nebo . . . in the land of Moab . . . on the edge of the Promised Land . . . because it was “according to the word of the Lord.” (34:5) Years earlier God had informed Moses that while Moses would lead the people to the edge of the promised land, he himself would not enter because of disobedience. Dying on Mount Nebo in “his prime” was the consequence of a transgression. I understand it, but I’m not sure I fully get it.

And while there’s a certain sense of sadness in Moses coming up short of the promise land, I can’t help but think that if it comes down to the Promised Land or Paradise, Moses ended up with the better end of the deal. The last thing Moses sees on earth is the land that he has dedicated his life to bringing God’s people to. And the last “person” Moses encounters on earth is the glorious God of heaven and earth. He then closes his eyes on Mount Nebo and immediately opens them in heaven itself. He leaves the desert, he arrives in glory. He says goodbye to the people who have been his burden for 80 years, and says hello to Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and a host of others. So while you kind of feel sorry for Moses not being able to enter the promise land, you’re left not feeling THAT sorry.

To say that I’m confused by it all, probably isn’t accurate. To say that I don’t have it all figured out–all the whys and wherefores of God’s final dealings with Moses–that’s probably true.

The conflict, if I can call it that, is in the tension created by two desires. The desire for living out our earthly calling vs. the desire to experience the promised heavenly blessing.

And I’m kind of thinking that God has wired believers with both desires to drive the Christian experience. We embrace life. We seek to serve Him and to fulfill His purposes for us here on earth, to live life to the full for His glory. Yet we also realize that this “world is not my home.” We labor here with one eye on heaven. Not fixated on death itself, but on the glory to be revealed when we leave this body, knowing that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. “So,” Paul writes to the Corinthians, “whether we are at home or away, we make it our aim to please Him.” (2Cor. 5:8-9)

I guess the other thing about not completely understanding God’s final dealings with Moses is that I don’t have to. At the end of the day (and at the beginning of the day), what I do know is that God’s plans are perfect, that His ways are right. Paul reminded me of that this morning in his wrap up to his letter to the Romans,

Now to Him who is able to strengthen you according to my gospel and the preaching of Jesus Christ . . . to the only wise God be glory forevermore through Jesus Christ! Amen.

(Romans 16:25a, 27 ESV)

God is wisdom. He defines what wisdom is . . . His purposes are always right . . . His ways, though often past knowing, can always be trusted.

I don’t think Moses grimaced as God removed the breath of life. While he may have been sorry to not have possessed the land, I don’t think he was sad. I think that though he knew he had come up just short of the promise, he also knew he was about to inherit the prize. This one who had asked to see God’s glory and had encountered it in part as he hid in the cleft of the rock and beheld God’s back (Ex. 33:18-23), would now encounter God’s glory face to face. Or, perhaps, face to ground.

Father, I don’t fully understand all your final dealings with Moses here on earth . . . but I do know that You are God alone wise . . . and trust that Your ways are perfect . . . be glorified my God . . . amen!

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