Tyler Johnson, MDiv
Tyler is a pastor and a former NASA engineer. He loves to explore truth through God’s word and God’s works. He lives in Iowa with his wife and four children and spends what little free-time he has pondering the mysteries of light
If you’re familiar with this blog, then you’ve probably noticed that my sister and I really enjoy thunderstorms. Credit this to growing up in Kansas where we witnessed many spectacular storms as a matter of course. It is for this reason that I’m drawn to the various times in the Bible when storms show up. My favorite such story comes at the end of the book of Job, but a close second is found near the end of the book of Exodus. It is a familiar story to many, but allow me to set the stage.
The Israelites, the people of God, had just been set free from centuries of bondage in Egypt. Through a series of miraculous events the whole nation of Israel escaped the clutches of the mighty Pharaoh and made their way out of Egypt and into the wilderness. There was great celebration, until there wasn’t. Hunger and thirst and an ambiguous future began to weigh on the people, and they soon began to grumble. Moses, their leader, brought their grumbles to God, who provided food and water for them even in the desert.
Eventually, God led the people to a mountain where he appeared as a dark cloud of thunder and lightning. It was a terrifying sight. The people trembled. And they were warned to keep their distance, which was probably not too hard to obey. Moses was summoned up this mountain and there God gave him the Ten Commandments and instructions for the Tabernacle, the place where God would dwell among them. But it took a long time.
The people were impatient. They were uncomfortable living in the presence of that ominous cloud. And before long they approached Aaron, Moses’ brother, with a proposal. “Make us a god who will lead and protect us,” they said. And Aaron did. He took their jewelry, much of which they had plundered from the Egyptians, melted it down and reformed it into a golden calf.
If you are familiar with this story, then pay close attention to the next part. If you don’t know the story, also pay attention. Aaron forms a golden calf, an idol, and then he addresses the people and says, “This is your god, who brought you out of Egypt.” Then he announces a festival to the LORD (to Yahweh) for the next day. And all the people worship the idol and present their sacrifices to it.
Here is what I want you to notice: the golden calf is not set up as an alternative to God, but as a representative. This is your God. This is who brought you up out of Egypt. This is your savior. This is who will protect you now.
I can understand the appeal. I get why the people took such comfort in the golden calf, and gave it their allegiance. They were lost in the wilderness, in the desert. Their future was unknown. Their few comforts lay back in Egypt. And in the face of uncertainty we all grasp for a sense of control. It certainly didn’t help that God had manifested His presence as a dark and thunderous cloud enveloping a mountain which was dangerous to touch. The sheer wildness and freedom of God must have been overwhelming. So the people sought a simpler, more controllable representative of God, the golden calf, and pledged their allegiance to it instead.
I find this story to be quite relevant to us today. For the last several months we have been navigating our own wilderness, with the pandemic and social unrest disrupting all our lives. This has been a year of mounting uncertainty and we are all grasping for a sense of control. Which means we are facing the same temptations that the Israelites faced so long ago, the temptation of the golden calf, of pledging our allegiance to a false representative of God on earth. We are all looking for experts to help us feel like we know what is happening around us - modern soothsayers that claim to know where all this is going. Or movements to join that help us feel like we are making a difference in the right direction. Or we simply attach ourselves to some ideology that we feel best represents the truth but which is really a simplification of reality, often to the point of gross distortion.
As far as I can tell, we are all doing one of these three things. No matter which side of the political aisle you are on. No matter your religious convictions. No matter your social status. We are all moving towards a golden calf of one sort or another, grasping for a sense of control.
The truth is, we are not much different than the Israelites. We also do not easily handle a God who is as wild and free as the God who appeared to Moses on that mountain. Thankfully we don’t have to. Centuries after this mountain scene happened, God made another appearance. This time in a much more manageable form, that of a human. Jesus became God’s true representative on the earth. He was still wild and free, still unpredictable, still confusing to many, but he was also unambiguously good, kind, and loving. Full of grace and truth.
The golden calves of our world may promise security, prosperity, and purpose, but they are unable to deliver on these promises. (A fact we don’t need to look too far to see these days.) The only one who can truly give us all that that we long for and desire is the One in the thundercloud. The One who is wild and free and good. Our job is to turn away from the simplified, idolatrous representatives that we are so prone to worship and face the terrifying uncertainty head on. Not because we are strong enough to handle it, but because we are humble enough to submit to it. This is where true faith begins.