LORD, SEND US A MEDIATOR

After centuries of slavery in the desert, they were gathered high above their former masters, on the side of a holy mountain. They had seen the river turn to blood. They had watched brimstone fall from the sky. They were witnesses to the parting of the waters. They had followed the pillar of fire by night and the cloud by day. Their eyes had seen sights that would cause even the special effects wizards of our day to tremble. But on a mountainside, God revealed so much of his glory to them brightness of flame and the cloud of mystery that they feared for their lives.

Have you ever felt that way? Have you ever been confronted with something so beyond your control that you quivered inside? My guess is that to some degree we all have. I believe that despite the façade that we project, each of us knows that we're not in charge here. We don't make the rules. In 1953, Edmund Hillary and Tenzig Norgay became the first climbers to reach the summit of Mt. Everest. Hillary, the New Zealand climber, is the most famous of the pair, but Norgay was the more important member of the team. Norgay had been a part of six previous expeditions up Mt. Everest. From these expeditions, he learned the valuable lesson that all experienced mountain climbers know: you never conquer a mountain — you simply play by its rules. On one of the early expeditions, Norgay watched George Frey, an accomplished mountaineer, decline to wear a critical piece of equipment because he thought he was too experienced to need it. Because he was without that equipment, Frey slipped and fell 1000 feet to his death. Norgay said of such careless climbers "Like so many men before them — they had held a great mountain too lightly, and they had paid the price."

Do you hear the tone in his voice? It's a tone of respect; respect for something beyond his control. It's a tone of deference and awe and a realization that he doesn't make the rules — he simply plays by them.

I had that experience to a lesser degree while hiking on the Appalachian Trail. Four of us took a long weekend opportunity to hike a scenic section in North Carolina. Our second day out, we ascended a terrific bald mountain. As the cold relentless wind whipped about us, we gazed over the rugged landscape on all sides. It was magnificent and majestic, and we didn't control it at all. We had to play by the rules: stick to the trail, don't wander off, don't leave food out in the open, layer your clothing to keep off the chill, don't drink from stagnant water, and on and on. There, where the mountains met the sky, I was reminded that the world and its forces are far beyond my ability to control or contain them. What is it that drives someone from the safety of civilization to face something beyond his or her control? I have a theory. Deep inside, each of us wants to be before something grand, something beyond ourselves. We want to be astounded. This instinct for awe is what compels so many people to gaze upon the Grand Canyon. This instinct for awe draws people to the majestic cathedrals of Europe. This instinct for awe brings people to the mountains and to the seashore. We as humans have a basic need to be dazzled — and yes, we do a pretty good job of it in stadium concerts or the latest wanna-be Star Wars special effects driven movie. But nothing compares to the awe we encounter when we get outside human creation to gaze upon the magnificence of God's creation.

When we approach this basic drive for awe, we have three options; we can ignore it, we can manage it, or we can embrace it. Ignoring it is the path of the radical materialist. This is the person who rejects any kind of spiritual reality. The feelings of awe and wonder that we might experience are to this person merely the result of a chemical combination in the brain that stimulates certain neurons. This person is much like the ancient Greek philosopher Protagoras of Abdera (c. 485-c. 420) who uttered the famous statement, "Man is the measure of all things." This is the modernist mindset that believes science and purely rational thought will ultimately solve all problems.

With the second option, the person who manages the inner drive necessarily recognizes the objective reality of it. He or she knows there is something other out there. Theologian Rudolph Otto calls that other the mysterium tremendum or "The Great Other." That Great Other is the natural force behind the inner drive to awe. We call the response to that awe "worship."

The problem with this approach is that the mysterium tremendum is beyond our capacity to regulate. People try to manage the mysterium tremendum by redirecting it to handcrafted statues or shrines, believing that these man-made places represent the Great Other. They devise elaborate rituals that they must perform in order to win the approval or blessing of this Great Other. In America, the tendency is to make the "Great Other" so vague that it can be anything you want it to be. The "Great Other" becomes like the repentant abominable snow man in the cartoon "Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer" — a giant, but harmless, spirit of niceness.

You can futilely ignore, pretend-manage, or you can embrace the Great Other. Embracing means recognizing that the Great Other is personal and can be known. Embracing means surrendering to the relationship. It means putting yourself entirely in the hands of the Great Other and trusting. And that's what the Israelites did. In verse 24, they admit that they've seen the astounding glory of the Lord and they desire to embrace it. But it's too much for them. They need a mediator — a go-between — someone who will go between and make the relationship happen. They immediately looked to Moses. Moses had spoken for the Lord in Egypt and his words had proved true. Moses had brought them to this place where they saw the Lord's power on the mountain. Moses was the obvious mediator — the go between. The frightened Israelites plead that Moses stand between a fearful people and a Great, Mysterious, Magnificent, and Holy God.

Astounding as it may seem, the Holy God agreed to this request. Look at verses Deuteronomy 5:28-29 "I have heard what this people said to you. Everything they said was good. Oh, that their hearts would be inclined to fear me and keep all my commands always, so that it might go well with them and their children forever!" We see three points about the character of God here: God hears his people, God longs to be in right relationship with his people, and God loves to bless his people. In other words, the God, the frighteningly personal Great Other, loves his people so much that he uses a mediator so he can communicate effectively with them. Through this mediation, he purposes to communicate the truth about how to be in right relationship and how to receive blessing.

Then look at verses 30-31 — God sends all the people back to the tents but keeps Moses around so he can deliver instructions — the law. God knows that Moses won't be around forever, so in the law, he provides for three types of mediators who will speak God's word, restore a right relationship, and lead people to blessing. These three types of mediators are prophets, priests, and kings. In three future articles, we'll take a closer look at how they were established in this book of the law, and how they functioned as mediators between God and Israel.

But there was a catch. God knew that all of these mediators, being human creatures, were subject to sin. No matter how good they were, none of them would be able to be good enough to reach all the way up to God. But God had a plan. He would provide a perfect mediator who would be prophet, priest, and king all rolled into one. He would be perfect because he would be fully God. He would be a mediator because he would be fully human. God, through scripture, told Israel that this Messiah, this anointed one, would usher in the kingdom of God. And so Israel waited, longing, expecting the Messiah, the perfect prophet, priest, and king. They never expected that it would begin in cattle stall and end on a trash heap.

Here's the good news — that perfect mediator has already completed his mediation. Through Jesus Christ you have access to the personal and real God. Through Jesus Christ, you can talk freely with the person who sculpted the mountain ranges, planted the redwood forests, and scooped out the Grand Canyon. Through Jesus Christ, you can be in awe before God's majesty, and still know you're securely in his hands.

One of my favorite comic strips is Rose is Rose. The subject is a family — a father, mother and their little son, Pasquale, a bright eyed, apple cheeked, plucky little boy. Pasquale has a guardian angel who looks just like him, only with wings. Pasquale and the guardian angel will talk and play games and have a delightful time. But, when Pasquale gets scared of something, the guardian angel goes into "Battle Mode", which means he transforms into a towering robed giant with a chiseled face and broadsword. The playmate who delights in Pasquale is also terrifying and formidable. That's a picture of the relationship we have only through our mediator Jesus Christ: God is awesome and grand and majestic, but he delights in you and calls you his child.