The Mosaic Covenant, pt. 1
Have you ever stood at the base of a mountain during a thunderstorm? That raw, primal feeling when lightning splits the sky, thunder shakes your chest, and you realize just how small you are? Now imagine that mountain is literally on fire, wrapped in smoke so thick you can't see the peak, the ground beneath your feet is trembling, and somewhere in that terrifying display, the Creator of the universe is speaking. This isn't a scene from a disaster movie – this is what three million people experienced at Mount Sinai when God offered them the most audacious proposal in human history: "You will be my treasured possession... a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.
What happens when the infinite God makes a covenant with finite people? And here's the real question that should grip us: Why does God give the law AFTER He's already saved them? If you've ever wondered whether Christianity is about earning God's favor through good behavior, the answer is waiting for us at the foot of a smoking mountain in the wilderness.
Welcome back to my channel, I'm Austin Duncan, and today we're diving into Week 5 of our twelve-week journey through the biblical covenants. If you're just joining us, we've already explored what a covenant actually is – that it's not a contract but a permanent family relationship. We've seen God's covenant with Noah that secured the stability of creation itself. We've walked with Abraham through that mysterious night when God alone passed between the pieces, taking upon Himself the curse of covenant-breaking. And last week, we saw how God expanded that Abrahamic covenant, giving the sign of circumcision and those profound name changes that marked Abraham and Sarah as participants in God's redemptive plan.
Today, we're standing at what many scholars consider the most dramatic moment in the Old Testament – the giving of the Mosaic Covenant at Mount Sinai. And I want to suggest to you that if we misunderstand what happens here, we'll misunderstand the entire relationship between law and grace, between obedience and faith, between what God requires and what God provides. So let's unpack this together, and I think you'll be amazed at how this ancient scene speaks directly to questions we're still asking today.
Part I: Arrival at Sinai and God's Initiative (Exodus 19:1-6)
Let's set the scene. The text tells us with remarkable precision: "On the third new moon after the people of Israel had gone out of the land of Egypt, on that day they came into the wilderness of Sinai" (Exodus 19:1). About three months – roughly ninety days – have passed since that night when death passed over the houses marked by lamb's blood. Three months since Pharaoh's army drowned in the sea. Three months of learning to trust God for daily bread in the form of manna. And now, they arrive at the place God had promised Moses at the burning bush: "When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall serve God on this mountain" (Exodus 3:12).
What's fascinating here is that this moment is actually the fulfillment of a promise made centuries earlier. Remember back in Genesis 15:13-16, when God told Abraham in that covenant ceremony – the one where God alone walked between the pieces – He said Abraham's descendants would be strangers in a land not their own, they would be enslaved for four hundred years, but then God would bring them out with great possessions. Sinai is where that ancient promise meets present reality. God's timeline, mysterious as it seemed through those long centuries of slavery, was always moving toward this moment.
But here's where it gets really interesting. Before God gives a single commandment, before He lays out any requirements, listen to how He introduces the covenant conversation. Exodus 19:4 records God's words through Moses: "You yourselves have seen what I did to the Egyptians, and how I bore you on eagles' wings and brought you to myself."
Can we just pause here for a moment? Because this imagery is absolutely breathtaking. "I bore you on eagles' wings" – in Hebrew, this evokes the image of a mother eagle teaching her young to fly. When the eaglet is learning, if it begins to fall, the mother eagle swoops underneath, catches it on her back, and carries it to safety. This is how God describes His deliverance of Israel. They didn't climb out of Egypt on their own strength. They didn't negotiate their way to freedom. God carried them.
And notice the destination: "brought you to myself." Not just "brought you out of Egypt" or "brought you to freedom" but "brought you to myself." The goal of redemption isn't just liberation from bondage; it's relationship with God. This is crucial for understanding everything that follows, because it means the law isn't given to establish relationship – the relationship already exists. The law is given to show them how to live within that relationship.
Now comes the covenant proposal itself, and the Hebrew here is incredibly rich. Verses 5-6 read: "Now therefore, if you will indeed obey my voice and keep my covenant, you shall be my treasured possession among all peoples, for all the earth is mine; and you shall be to me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation."
Let's unpack these three descriptions, because each one reveals something profound about what God is doing here.
First, "my treasured possession" – in Hebrew, סְגֻלָּה (segullah). This word is fascinating. In the ancient world, a segullah referred to the personal treasure that a king possessed apart from his national treasury. It was his private collection, the things he valued most highly. When archaeologists have found ancient royal inventories, they distinguish between the national wealth and the king's segullah – his personal, prized possessions that he's accumulated through special effort or received as intimate gifts.
So when God calls Israel His segullah, He's not just saying they're valuable. He's saying they're His personal treasure, distinct from all His other possessions. And remember, He immediately adds, "for all the earth is mine." God owns everything – every nation, every people group, every square inch of creation. But Israel is His segullah, His specially treasured possession that He's acquired through His mighty acts of deliverance. There's an intimacy here, a personal attachment that goes beyond mere ownership.
The second designation is "a kingdom of priests" – מַמְלֶכֶת כֹּהֲנִים (mamlekhet kohanim). Now, this is revolutionary. In the ancient world, priests were mediators. They stood between the divine and human realms, representing humans to the gods and the gods to humans. But priesthood was always limited to a special class. Even in Israel, once the Levitical priesthood is established, only they can perform priestly functions.
But here, God is saying something stunning: the entire nation will be priests. Every Israelite – not just a special class, but farmers and shepherds, men and women, young and old – all of them together will serve as priests. But priests to whom? To the rest of the nations! Israel as a whole is meant to be the mediator between God and the world. They're to represent God's character to the nations and bring the nations' needs before God.
This is mind-blowing when you think about it. God is essentially commissioning an entire nation as missionaries before the word "missionary" even exists. Their national identity is bound up with their priestly function to the world. They're not chosen for their own sake alone but for the sake of God's purposes for all nations. This connects directly back to the Abrahamic covenant – "in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed" (Genesis 12:3). That blessing comes through Israel's priestly mediation.
The third designation is "a holy nation" – גּוֹי קָדוֹשׁ (goy qadosh). The word קָדוֹשׁ (qadosh) means "set apart" or "consecrated." It's the same root used for the Holy of Holies in the tabernacle, the most set-apart place. But holiness isn't just about separation FROM something; it's about separation TO something. Israel is set apart FROM the practices and values of the surrounding nations TO serve God's redemptive purposes.
And this isn't merely about personal piety or individual morality. It's about their entire national existence being different. Their legal system, their economic practices, their treatment of foreigners, their agricultural methods, their worship, their calendar – everything about them is to be distinct because they belong to God. They're to be a living demonstration of what human society looks like when it's ordered according to God's character and purposes.
Now, I need you to see something absolutely crucial here. Look at the sequence. God doesn't say, "If you obey my voice, I will deliver you from Egypt." He's already done that. He doesn't say, "If you keep my covenant, I will become your God." He's already claimed them. The conditional "if" in verse 5 isn't about establishing the relationship; it's about living out their identity within the relationship that already exists.
This is so important because it completely dismantles any notion of works-based salvation. God saves first, then gives the law. Grace precedes obligation. Rescue comes before requirements. As Robert Godfrey beautifully puts it, "The Lord redeemed His people from Egyptian slavery before giving them the Law, depicting the principle that God saves fallen people by grace alone."
And there's something else here we can't miss. In Deuteronomy 7:7-8, Moses later reflects on why God chose Israel: "It was not because you were more in number than any other people that the LORD set his love on you and chose you, for you were the fewest of all peoples, but it is because the LORD loves you and is keeping the oath that he swore to your fathers."
Did you catch that? God didn't choose Israel because they were impressive. They were slaves, powerless, "the fewest of all peoples." God chose them simply because He loved them and because He's faithful to His promises. Their election is rooted entirely in God's character, not their qualifications. This is covenant theology at its finest – God initiates, God commits, God remains faithful, all based on His own character and purposes.
Part II: Israel's Preparation and God's Holiness (Exodus 19:7-15)
So Moses comes down from his initial meeting with God and gathers the elders. He lays before them all these words that the LORD had commanded him. And the people's response is immediate and unanimous: "All that the LORD has spoken we will do" (Exodus 19:8).
Now, on one level, this is admirable. They're expressing faith, commitment, readiness to follow God. But there's also something troubling here, isn't it? They haven't even heard what God is going to command yet! They have no idea what "all that the LORD has spoken" will entail. It's a bit like saying "I do" at a wedding without hearing the vows. Their heart is in the right place, but as Exodus 32 and the golden calf incident will show, they have no idea what they're promising.
But God accepts their commitment and then does something remarkable. He tells Moses to prepare the people for a direct encounter with Himself. And the preparation instructions are intense. Verses 10-11 record God's words: "Go to the people and consecrate them today and tomorrow, and let them wash their clothes and be ready for the third day, for on the third day the LORD will come down on Mount Sinai in the sight of all the people."
The Hebrew word for "consecrate" here is קָדַשׁ (qadash), the same root as "holy." Moses is to "make them holy," to set them apart for this encounter. And it involves concrete, physical actions. They must wash their clothes – the outer garments that might have accumulated ritual impurity. This isn't just about hygiene; it's about ritual purity, about preparing to enter sacred space and time.
But then comes an instruction that might seem strange to modern ears. Verse 15: "Do not go near a woman." Now, before anyone gets the wrong idea, this isn't suggesting that sexual relations within marriage are sinful or that women are somehow impure. Other passages make clear that marital intimacy is good and blessed by God. This temporary abstinence is about focus, about setting aside even good and normal activities to concentrate entirely on this unprecedented encounter with God. It's similar to fasting – food isn't evil, but temporarily abstaining from food can sharpen spiritual focus.
But here's what really drives home the seriousness of this moment – the boundaries God establishes around the mountain. Verses 12-13 are sobering: "Take care not to go up into the mountain or touch the edge of it. Whoever touches the mountain shall be put to death. No hand shall touch him, but he shall be stoned or shot; whether beast or man, he shall not live."
This is severe, isn't it? Touch the mountain and die. And notice – if someone does touch it and dies, no one can even touch their body to remove it. They must be stoned or shot from a distance. Why such extreme measures?
Because this is teaching Israel – and us – something fundamental about God's holiness. The Hebrew word for holy, קָדוֹשׁ (qadosh), at its root means "separate" or "other." God is not just a bigger, stronger version of us. He is qualitatively different, utterly other, infinitely pure. And sinful humanity cannot casually approach infinite holiness any more than darkness can casually approach light or ice can casually approach fire.
This isn't God being mean or arbitrary. This is God being God. His holiness is like a consuming fire – not because He's malicious, but because that's the nature of absolute purity when it encounters impurity. It's like the sun – the sun isn't malicious, but if you get too close without protection, you'll be consumed. The boundaries around Sinai are actually merciful – they're protecting the people from an encounter they're not prepared for.
And this sets up one of the major theological tensions that runs throughout Scripture: How can a holy God dwell with unholy people? The boundaries around Sinai reveal the problem. The rest of the Bible reveals the solution – but we're getting ahead of ourselves.
Part III: The Theophany and Boundaries (Exodus 19:16-24)
Now we come to one of the most dramatic scenes in all of Scripture. Verse 16: "On the morning of the third day there were thunders and lightnings and a thick cloud on the mountain and a very loud trumpet blast, so that all the people in the camp trembled."
The Hebrew here piles up words to convey the overwhelming nature of this moment. There are קֹלֹת (qolot) – literally "voices" but translated as "thunders," suggesting not just noise but articulate divine speech that sounds like thunder to human ears. There are lightnings – בְּרָקִים (beraqim) – flashing repeatedly. There's a thick cloud – עָנָן כָּבֵד (anan kaved), where כָּבֵד (kaved) means "heavy" or "glorious," the same root as God's כָּבוֹד (kavod), His glory.
And then there's this mysterious trumpet blast – קֹל שֹׁפָר (qol shofar). But this is no human trumpeter. Verse 19 tells us the trumpet blast grew "louder and louder." Have you ever heard a human blow a shofar? They run out of breath. The sound fades. But this supernatural shofar keeps increasing in volume, building and building until the entire camp is trembling.
Verse 18 adds even more details: "Now Mount Sinai was wrapped in smoke because the LORD had descended on it in fire. The smoke of it went up like the smoke of a kiln, and the whole mountain trembled greatly."
The imagery here is volcanic, apocalyptic. Fire and smoke, earthquake and thunder, darkness and lightning. This is what theologians call a theophany – a visible manifestation of God's presence. And every element communicates something about God's character. The fire speaks of His purity and judgment. The smoke speaks of His hiddenness and mystery – He reveals Himself but remains veiled. The earthquake speaks of His power over creation. The thunder speaks of His authoritative voice.
And the people's response? Sheer terror. Exodus 20:18-19 tells us that when they witnessed all this, they stood far off and said to Moses, "You speak to us, and we will listen; but do not let God speak to us, lest we die."
This is actually a pivotal moment. The people are essentially saying, "We need a mediator. We can't handle direct contact with God." And in one sense, they're right. Sinful humanity needs a mediator to approach a holy God. Moses serves that role here, prefiguring the ultimate Mediator who will come – Jesus Christ.
But there's also something tragic here. God has just called them to be a kingdom of priests, to have direct access to Him, to mediate His presence to the nations. But they're saying, "No, thanks. You talk to Moses. Moses can talk to us. We'll keep our distance." They're already backing away from their calling.
The book of Hebrews reflects on this scene in chapter 12:18-24, contrasting Mount Sinai with Mount Zion. The author says, "You have not come to what may be touched, a blazing fire and darkness and gloom and a tempest... Indeed, so terrifying was the sight that Moses said, 'I tremble with fear.'" But then he continues, "But you have come to Mount Zion and to the city of the living God... and to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant."
Do you see the contrast? Sinai represents the old covenant – marked by distance, fear, and the need for human mediators. But in Christ, we come to a different mountain, a different covenant experience. Not that God has changed – He's still holy. But through Christ's mediation, we can approach with confidence the same God who manifested at Sinai.
The Mosaic Covenant in Its Ancient Context
Now, I want to take a moment to zoom out and look at the bigger picture, because understanding the structure of this covenant helps us understand its meaning. Scholars have noticed that Exodus 19-24 follows a pattern that would have been very familiar to ancient readers – the pattern of a suzerainty treaty.
In the ancient Near East, when a great king (called a suzerain) would make a covenant with a lesser king or nation (called a vassal), they followed a standard format. And amazingly, the Mosaic Covenant follows this same pattern almost exactly:
First, there's the Preamble, where the great king identifies himself. "I am the LORD your God" (Exodus 20:2a).
Second, there's the Historical Prologue, where the king recounts what he's done to deserve loyalty. "Who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery" (Exodus 20:2b).
Third, there are the Stipulations, the actual requirements of the covenant. These are the Ten Commandments and the laws that follow in Exodus 20-23.
Fourth, there's the Document Clause, providing for the preservation and regular reading of the covenant. Moses writes down all the words (Exodus 24:4).
Fifth, there are Witnesses called to observe the covenant. In pagan treaties, these were usually gods. In Israel's case, heaven and earth are called as witnesses, and the people themselves witness.
Sixth, there are Blessings and Curses for keeping or breaking the covenant. These are spelled out most fully in Deuteronomy 28, but they're implicit here.
And finally, there's the Ratification Ceremony, which we'll look at more next week in Exodus 24 – involving blood and a covenant meal.
Now, why does this pattern matter? Because it shows us that God is accommodating Himself to human understanding. He's using a format that Israel would recognize, a structure that communicated serious, binding relationship in their world. But He's also transforming it.
You see, in typical suzerainty treaties, the great king and the vassal remained separate entities. The king protected and the vassal served, but they didn't become family. But God calls Israel His סְגֻלָּה (segullah), His treasured possession. He's not just their Suzerain; He's their Father. He's not just making a political treaty; He's establishing a family relationship.
Moreover, in typical treaties, the stipulations were primarily about loyalty – "don't make treaties with my enemies, pay your tribute, provide troops when called." But God's stipulations go much deeper. They address every aspect of life – worship, family relationships, economic justice, treatment of foreigners, care for the poor. God isn't just interested in political loyalty; He's interested in transforming every aspect of their existence to reflect His character.
The Theological Heart of Sinai: Grace and Law
Here's where we need to be really careful, because this is where so many people misunderstand the Old Testament and end up with a distorted view of God. They read all these laws and think, "Oh, the Old Testament is about earning salvation through law-keeping, and the New Testament is about grace." But that's completely backwards!
Look at the sequence again. What comes first? The law? No! The rescue comes first. "I bore you on eagles' wings" comes before "Now therefore, if you will obey my voice." God doesn't say, "Obey me and I'll rescue you from Egypt." He rescues them and then says, "Now, here's how rescued people live."
This is exactly the same pattern we see in the New Testament. Ephesians 2:8-10 says, "For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them."
Did you catch that? Saved by grace through faith, not works – but saved FOR good works. The works don't save us; they flow from salvation. That's exactly what's happening at Sinai. Israel is already saved from Egypt. Now God is showing them what saved people do.
And this is so liberating! It means obedience isn't about earning God's love – you already have it. It's not about securing your salvation – that's already accomplished. It's about living out your identity as God's treasured possession, as His kingdom of priests, as His holy nation.
Think about it this way. When a couple gets married, they make vows to each other. "I promise to love, honor, and cherish you." Now, do they make these vows in order to become married? No! They make these vows because they're getting married. The vows don't create the relationship; they describe how to live within the relationship.
That's what the law is – it's describing how to live within the covenant relationship that God has already established by grace. The law is not the means of salvation; it's the lifestyle of the saved.
The Problem That Sinai Reveals
But here's where things get complicated, and this is crucial for understanding the whole biblical story. Even as God gives the law, even as He establishes this covenant, there are hints that something is wrong, that this arrangement, good as it is, isn't the final solution.
First, there's the people's fear and distance. They can't even hear God's voice without trembling in terror. They need Moses as a mediator. This isn't the intimate relationship God ultimately desires.
Second, there's the elaborate system of boundaries and preparations needed just to be in God's presence. Wash your clothes, consecrate yourselves, don't touch the mountain. This isn't the free access God ultimately intends.
Third, and we'll see this more next week and in the weeks to come, there's the immediate failure. Chapter 32 – while Moses is still on the mountain receiving the law, the people are down below making a golden calf. They can't even keep the covenant for forty days!
All of this is pointing forward to something more, something better. The Mosaic Covenant is good – Paul says in Romans 7:12, "The law is holy, and the commandment is holy and righteous and good." But it's not the final word. It's preparing the way for something greater.
Jeremiah 31:31-32 looks back at this covenant and forward to a new one: "Behold, the days are coming, declares the LORD, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah, not like the covenant that I made with their fathers on the day when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt, my covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, declares the LORD."
Did you hear that? "My covenant that they broke." The problem wasn't with the covenant itself; it was with the people's inability to keep it. They needed something more than external law; they needed internal transformation. They needed new hearts, not just new rules.
The Priesthood of All Believers
But let's not miss the revolutionary nature of what God is establishing here, even in its preliminary form. "A kingdom of priests" – this is astounding. In the ancient world, priests were the intermediaries, the ones with special access to the divine realm. But God is saying that ALL of Israel is to be priests.
Now, Israel didn't fully grasp this. They'll establish the Levitical priesthood, where only Levites can serve in the tabernacle and only the high priest can enter the Holy of Holies. But even that system is pointing forward to God's ultimate intention.
Peter picks this up in 1 Peter 2:9, applying these exact words to the church: "But 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."
Do you see what Peter's doing? He's taking the titles given to Israel at Sinai and applying them to Christians – including Gentile Christians! Through Christ, we've become what Israel was always meant to be – a kingdom of priests with direct access to God, a holy nation set apart for His purposes, His treasured possession.
And this has massive implications for how we understand the Christian life. Every believer is a priest. Not just pastors, not just "professional" Christians – every single believer has direct access to God through Christ and is called to mediate God's presence to the world.
What does this priestly ministry look like practically? Well, priests in the Old Testament had two primary functions: they represented people to God through intercession and sacrifice, and they represented God to people through teaching and blessing. As a kingdom of priests, we do both.
We represent people to God through prayer. When you pray for your neighbors, your coworkers, your city, your nation – you're functioning as a priest. You're bringing their needs before God's throne.
We offer sacrifices – not animal sacrifices, but what Romans 12:1 calls "living sacrifices." Our whole lives become an offering to God. Our work, our relationships, our resources – all of it becomes an act of worship, a priestly service.
We represent God to people by embodying His character in the world. When we show mercy to the marginalized, when we practice justice in our business dealings, when we extend forgiveness to those who've wronged us – we're showing the world what God is like. We're functioning as priests.
Holy Nation: Set Apart for Mission
The calling to be a "holy nation" is equally significant. Holiness, as we've seen, means being set apart. But set apart for what purpose? Not set apart FROM the world in the sense of having nothing to do with it, but set apart FOR the world, to be a blessing to it.
This is where Israel often got confused, and frankly, where Christians often get confused too. Israel sometimes interpreted their set-apartness as superiority, as a reason to look down on other nations, to separate themselves completely from Gentile "sinners." But that was never God's intention.
Remember the Abrahamic covenant – "in you all the families of the earth shall be blessed." Israel's holiness was meant to be missional. They were to be different in order to display God's character to the watching world. Their justice system was to show what divine justice looks like. Their economic practices – like the Sabbath year and Jubilee – were to show what divine compassion looks like. Their worship was to show what it means to serve the true God rather than idols.
And here's where it gets really practical for us. As God's holy nation today, the church is called to the same missional holiness. We're not holy by withdrawing from the world into Christian bubbles. We're holy by engaging the world differently, by displaying an alternative way of being human.
What does this look like? It looks like Christians in business who refuse to cut ethical corners even when it costs them. It looks like families that practice radical hospitality, opening their homes to the lonely and marginalized. It looks like communities of faith that cross racial and economic boundaries that the world can't seem to bridge. It looks like people who forgive when the world says to seek revenge, who serve when the world says to dominate, who give when the world says to hoard.
This is what Jesus meant when He called us "salt and light." Salt is only useful when it's applied to food. Light is only helpful when it shines in darkness. A holy nation isn't called to huddle together in safety but to scatter throughout the world as agents of transformation.
The Already and Not Yet
As we think about what it means to live as God's covenant people today, we need to hold two truths in tension. On one hand, through Christ, we already are everything Israel was called to be. We are God's treasured possession – Ephesians 1:14 says we've been purchased by the blood of Christ. We are a kingdom of priests – Revelation 1:6 says Christ "has made us a kingdom, priests to his God and Father." We are a holy nation – set apart by the Holy Spirit for God's purposes.
But on the other hand, we're still growing into these realities. We don't always live like treasured children. We don't always function as faithful priests. We don't always display the holiness we're called to. We live in the tension between what we are in Christ and what we're becoming by His Spirit.
This is actually similar to Israel's situation. They were declared to be God's treasured possession, kingdom of priests, and holy nation, but they had to grow into that identity. The laws that follow in Exodus 20-23 are all about how to live out what they already were by God's declaration.
The Trajectory from Sinai to Calvary
As we wrap up today, I want you to see how Sinai points forward to Christ. Every element of this scene finds its fulfillment in Him.
The mediation that Moses provides? Jesus is the ultimate Mediator. 1 Timothy 2:5 says, "There is one God, and there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus." Moses could only go so far – he could speak for the people, but he couldn't fundamentally solve the problem of their sinfulness. Jesus doesn't just speak for us; He becomes sin for us and gives us His righteousness.
The boundaries around the mountain that kept people at a distance? At the moment of Jesus' death, Matthew 27:51 tells us, "The curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom." That curtain represented the separation between holy God and sinful humanity. In Christ, the barrier is removed. Hebrews 10:19-20 says we have "confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh."
The thunder and fire and earthquake that marked God's presence? At Pentecost in Acts 2, the Holy Spirit comes with wind and tongues of fire, but instead of keeping people at a distance, the Spirit indwells them! The same holy God who couldn't be touched at Sinai now lives within His people through His Spirit.
The law written on tablets of stone? Jeremiah 31:33 promises a new covenant where God says, "I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts." Through the Spirit, God's law is no longer an external code we struggle to obey but an internal reality the Spirit empowers us to live.
Living in Light of Sinai Today
So what does all this mean for us practically? Let me suggest several applications as we close:
First, approach God with confidence, not casualness. The scenes at Sinai remind us that the God we serve is holy, powerful, and awesome in the truest sense of that word. Yes, through Christ we have access to the Father. Yes, we can come boldly to the throne of grace. But let's never forget what it cost to secure that access – the blood of the Son of God. We don't approach God casually, like He's our buddy. We approach Him confidently, knowing that through Christ, the holy God has made a way for unholy people to draw near.
Second, obey from gratitude, not fear. Israel at Sinai obeyed primarily from fear – they'd seen God's power and were terrified of the consequences of disobedience. But that's not meant to be our primary motivation. We obey because we've been rescued. We obey because we're loved. We obey because we're grateful. The same God who bore Israel on eagles' wings has, in Christ, "rescued us from the domain of darkness and brought us into the kingdom of his beloved Son" (Colossians 1:13). Our obedience flows from that rescue.
Third, embrace your priestly calling. You are a priest. Not might be, not could be – are. Through Christ, you have direct access to God, and you're called to mediate His presence to others. Who are you praying for? How are you representing God's character in your sphere of influence? Don't leave the priestly work to the "professionals." God has made you a priest – live like it.
Fourth, pursue holiness as mission, not isolation. Being set apart doesn't mean being isolated. Israel was set apart TO be a blessing to the nations. We're set apart to be salt and light in the world. Holiness isn't about building higher walls; it's about building longer tables. It's about living such distinctively loving, just, and merciful lives that the world asks, "What makes you different?"
Fifth, rest in grace while pursuing transformation. The law was never meant to save – it was meant to show saved people how to live. In Christ, you're already accepted, already loved, already secure. You don't obey to earn God's favor; you obey because you have God's favor. But at the same time, God's Spirit is at work in you, transforming you from the inside out, writing His law on your heart, conforming you to the image of Christ. Rest in grace, but don't resist transformation.
The Continuing Story
As we close today, remember that we're in the middle of a story. The Mosaic Covenant isn't the end – it's a crucial chapter that moves the plot forward. Next week, we'll look at Exodus 24 and the ratification of this covenant, including one of the most amazing scenes in Scripture where the elders of Israel eat a meal in God's presence. We'll also look at how quickly this covenant is broken and what that teaches us about our need for a better covenant.
But for now, let's sit with the weight of what we've seen today. The God of the universe, the Creator of all things, the Holy One who dwells in unapproachable light, has chosen to enter into covenant with people. He's taken slaves and made them His treasured possession. He's taken nobodies and made them priests. He's taken a ragtag group of former slaves and called them to be a holy nation that will bless the world.
And here's the amazing thing – that's your story too. If you're in Christ, you were once enslaved to sin, and God bore you on eagles' wings to freedom. You were once far off, and God has brought you near by the blood of Christ. You were once "not a people," and now you are God's people. You were in darkness, and He called you into His marvelous light.
The mountain that once blazed with unapproachable fire has become, through Christ, a throne of grace. The God whose voice once thundered from the cloud now whispers to us through His Spirit, "You are my beloved child." The law that once stood outside us, condemning us, now lives within us through the Spirit, empowering us to become who God has declared us to be.
So rest in this: The God of Sinai is the God of Calvary. The One who descended in fire and smoke has descended in flesh and blood. The One who spoke in thunder now speaks through His Spirit. The covenant that began with "I bore you on eagles' wings" finds its fulfillment in the One who said, "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." You are not standing at the base of Sinai, kept at a distance by your sin. Through Christ, you've been brought near. You've been made a priest. You've been declared holy. You've been claimed as God's treasured possession. That's not something you're working toward – that's something you're working from.
May you live this week in the confidence of your covenant identity. May you embrace your calling as a priest, interceding for others and representing God's character in your sphere of influence. May you pursue holiness not as a burden but as a mission, showing the world what it looks like when people are set apart for God's purposes. And may you rest in the finished work of Christ while allowing His Spirit to continue His transforming work in you.
The God who met Israel at Sinai is the same God who meets you today. He still speaks. He still calls. He still transforms. And He still delights to call His people His treasured possession. That's who you are. Now go live like it, and let’s make heaven crowded.
