The Wrathful and Loving God | Exodus 32:15-35

Introduction

Kids are funny, aren’t they? This may be a difficult exercise, but can you think of a time where you or one of your kids misbehaved, and then attempted to justify their behavior with a million excuses? Hard to believe, hard to fathom, I know…but just think of that instance. Whether it’s something like, “why did you hit your sister?”, “why did you steal that from your brother?”, or “why did you let the chickens out?!”—for instance.

And how many times is their (our your) response to being asked these probing questions some solid, iron-tight logical reason? “Well, I hit her because there was a bee on her head, and really I was trying to protect her from it and so I swung, missed the bee, but landed my hand on her head.” Or—”I didn’t steal that toy, I just was looking at it to make sure all the pieces were there, and then was going to give it right back when you walked in.” Or—”The chickens needed exercise so I decided to release them and let them wander. Don’t you want free range chicken eggs??” My guess, you’ve heard similar reports from your kids.

Now, a wiley parent will see right through these excuses for what they are: bogus. But what are our children (or we) trying to do when we make these excuses? I think what’s often happening is not reasoning, but rationalization. What’s the difference? Rationalization is our brains attempting to explain or justify our behavior or an attitude with logical reasons. The difference between reasoning and rationalization is that with reasoning we are trying to apply logic to come to a conclusion—when we're rationalizing, we have a conclusion and we're making up reasons for it. 

Rationalizations are the stories we tell ourselves to make sense of or justify why we act the way we do, why we commit sins, why we treat ourselves, our kids, our spouses, and others the way we do. And it’s easy for us to read stories in the BIble—like this golden calf scene—and think, “That’s wild. I would never do such a thing.” But if there is one thing that is self-evident about ourselves is that we know how we ought to behave, and we do not in fact behave that way. In short: we sin, we break the law of God, and thus we deserve the wrath of God.

Do you ever consider the wrath of God? I know we likely don’t like to think about the wrath of God, but have you ever paused and considered the harsh reality of it? In his wonderful book The Difficult Doctrine of the Love of God, DA Carson says that…

“[W]rath, unlike love, is not one of the intrinsic perfections of God. Rather, it is a function of God’s holiness. Where there is no sin, there is no wrath—but there will always be love in God. Where God in his holiness confronts his image-bearers in their rebellion, there must be wrath, or God is not the jealous God he claims to be, and his holiness is impugned. The price of diluting God’s wrath is diminishing God’s holiness.”

—D.A. Carson

And we must not diminish the holiness of God. Our God will not be mocked. He is infinitely loving, infinitely holy, and because of our sin, he is infinitely wrathful. And yet, there is hope for the people of God. There is mercy for guilt-ridden men and women and rest for the heavy-laden, weighted down by sin and rebellion.

So, as the people of God, let us turn to the word of God. This book, these words, are not just words on a page, but are our very lives. And out of reverence for this book, would you please stand if you are able as I read Exodus 32:15–35.

Exodus 32 is about a rebellious people. A people who had literally just received incredible blessings: they were powerfully saved and rescued from the bondage of slavery and out of Egypt’s iron-grasp, brought to God himself, heard his voice, received his covenant and law, were given instructions to make a way for God to dwell within their very midst…and yet they still rebel. Like a parent who walks away from their kid for 2 seconds and immediately they start fussing again. Come on!

And yet, as we look at the second part of this dramatic scene, we must fight the temptation to assume that we would never do something so foolish. And we must fight the temptation to assume that God does not demand today the same allegiance that he demanded then. Our God is the same: yesterday, today, and forever. And we, the people of God, have not changed all that much since the events described here in Exodus 32, except for one glorious thing—Christ

So as we go through this text, here is the lens we need to have: Despite our great sin against a holy God, we can rest in the mercy and love of Christ.

As we finish this golden calf scene, we are going to see from the fall-out 3 derived commands. This scene is obviously descriptive, describing events through narrative prose, but even in the description, I believe there are prescriptions that we can take away from the example of the Israelites next to Mt. Sinai: 1) hate sin; 2) repent fully, and 3) receive mercy.

Hate sin

Picture the scene described in Exodus 32. Moses has already had his dealings with God, pleading on the behalf of the people without having witnessed anything yet, but on the basis of God’s word of what was going on down the mountain, he appeals to God’s word again to beg him to keep that word he made to their Father Abraham, and thus, in an act of supreme mercy, God relents.

Now, Moses is headed down the mountain in order to see for himself what is going on down there. Picture this 80 year old man, carefully descending this mountain, carrying down the 2 tablets of the law, inscribed by God’s own hand. He meets his assistant, Joshua, halfway down the trail. As they descend together, Joshua hears this racket coming up to them from the camp. It’s just this cinematic scene of discovery with the Gandalf-like Moses wisely and knowingly correcting young Joshua’s concern about the noise being battle cries, but instead correctly names it for what it is: worship.

As they enter the camp, the full depravity of what the Israelites had given in to is in full display. Wailing, singing, worship fills the air—not directed to the proper source of any worship (God himself), but to this golden calf. Moses sees this immediately for what it is. Idolatry.

One can’t help but read this text of Scripture and not note how physical, how tactile, this scene is described. All the senses are at play: they hear the singing and wailing—so loud that they could be mistaken as war cries, they witness the dancing and debauchery…this is not the hidden sin of the heart. This is open, unashamed, sin against a holy God. Remember, we are physical beings. If our only category for sin is that which is done in the recesses of our hearts and are wholly unconnected to our bodies, we deceive ourselves.

We are physical beings inhabiting physical space, so we should expect that our lives, our worship, and our sin to be physical! So Moses takes in the horrific scene and responds accordingly.

We may be tempted to look at Moses’ reaction—he takes the tablets fashioned and produced by the very hand of God and dashes them against the rocks of the mountain—as an overreaction. There is more going down here than just a righteous fit of rage of a temperamental man.

The physical breaking of the tablets was not Moses in a fit of rage, but a prophetic act, showing physically what the Israelites had done—abandoning the law of God and disobeying the covenant. Like Jesus clearing the Temple in Matthew 21, this is not some uncontrollable anger boiling over, but a righteous communication and demonstration of the results of their sin. By shattering the tablets, Moses is declaring to the watching, sinful Israelites just how serious of a thing they have done. The very God who spoke from the mountain and made such incredible promises to them, has seen what they have done. The covenant is not dissolved—for God has already relented on the basis of his promises. But because of their actions, they are out of fellowship with the very God who saved them and loves them, and they deserve what is coming to them.

Do we think of our sin the way Moses does? Clearly, Moses looks on the scene and can not believe his eyes. He’s disgusted, enraged, incensed and, critically, he acts. He acts. He hates their sin. He clearly despises their sin in the way that they should despise their sin, but clearly don’t. In fact, in a twisted way, they view this entire event as their own self-expression of worship towards God. They are worshiping in their own way, despite what God says. But if the law and the temple plans mean anything, it is that we do not come to God on our own, personal, subjective terms. Rather, we come to him on his terms and his terms alone.

Moses’ reaction gives a picture of how the people of God ought to feel toward their sin. If we don’t hate our sin, we will never have victory over it. Is there some sin that you currently wrestle with, struggle with that you know is sin, but don’t hate? Is there some rationalizing that you go through regularly to tell yourself that it’s fine? Be honest with yourself and treat that sin like Moses treats it—like the sovereign God treats it—hate it.

And we must hate our sin if we are going to have any victory over it. If our view of our sin is limited to the point where we see it only as breaking some arbitrary rules set by our parents, our church, or our culture, we will never be able to wage war against it. John Owen, in his magisterial book The Mortification of Sin, famously says this:

Do you mortify [sin]; do you make it your daily work; be always at it whilst you live; cease not a day from this work; be killing sin or it will be killing you.

—John Owen

John Owen says it well, but he did not say it first. The Apostle Paul puts it this way:

Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry. On account of these the wrath of God is coming.

—Colossians 3:5–6

Notice the violence required—warfare is needed. And before we can wage war on our sin, we must recognize first that we are in a war, and that our sin is our enemy. And we can hold no quarter for this enemy: we must subdue it, kill it, mortify it, and by God’s Spirit, given to us on the basis of Christ crucified, we must have victory.

And the stakes are so high—remember Colossians 3:6. Why must we put to death our sin, our idolatry (like the Israelites)? Because…

On account of these the wrath of God is coming.

—Colossians 3:6

The wrath of God is his holy, righteous, and justified anger against our sin. The stakes could not be higher. And the consequences are real. Moses, after destroying the tablets and then destroying the pagan idol, he forces them to deal with the consequences. He forces the people to drink the water containing the dust of their false god in order to teach them to despise the taste of their sin. 

So, what are we to do when we sin? What is our method for slaying the sin which we must hate? And again, we can learn from the Israelites and Aaron’s failure—repent fully.

Repent fully.

Having dealt with the immediate aftermath of returning down the mountain and cleaning up the mess, now Moses’ attention turns to the one responsible: Aaron. His brother, who he left in charge while he went up the mountain to meet with God, it is he who is responsible for whatever happens in the camp. 

The conversation between Aaron and Moses in Exodus 32:21–24 is reminiscent of Eden. After Eve’s disobedience and Adam’s abdication, God comes to Adam demanding answers for what happened. And Adam, the coward that he is, blame-shifts and deflects, blaming Eve for their situation, and ultimately God by declaring, “the woman you gave me made me do it!” Bold. 

Here, at the foot of Mt. Sinai, we see history repeated itself. Where sin is, we should expect similar cowardly, wicked, and destructive attitudes. Moses comes to his brother, Aaron to demand answers for what HE has done. Look at how Moses frames his opening inquisition:

“What did this people do to you that you have brought such a great sin upon them?”

—Exodus 32:21

Essentially, what evil could these people have done for you to cause you to hate them enough to lead them into such high rebellion against God. Look at how quickly they have forgotten God, the fire and voice on the mountain, the cloud by day and fire by night, the doer of such wondrous plagues…they are standing next to the very mountain of God and they sin anyway. Moses is demanding answers, he’s demanding reasons. And like all who have sinned against God, there are none.

Just like Adam’s lame response, Aaron’s rationalization is pathetic. “It’s the people’s fault! They are the ones who set on evil all the time. They threatened me, they pressured me, so I did the only thing I could do! I gathered their gold, threw it in the fire, and POOF out popped this golden calf!”

Just like his first sinful parents, Aaron does all that he can to distance himself from his actions and to show that it’s really not his fault at all, but someone else’s! He claims passivity—he didn’t know what else to do so he just threw gold into the fire and out came this golden calf! Remember from last week, however:

So all the people took off the rings of gold that were in their ears and brought them to Aaron. And he received the gold from their hand and fashioned it with a graving tool and made a golden calf.

—Exodus 32:3–4

It’s easy to look and see Aaron’s shame—but this book, this word is a mirror to us, to our hearts…do we see our shame? How often do we, when confronted with our sin, placate, blame-shift, call our sin something else? Rather than sin, we call it a struggle. Rather than naming our selfishness and pride in biblical categories, we chalk them up personality tendencies. Rather than naming our temptation to gossip as sin, we call ourselves concerned and caring people just wanting to help

In verse 25, Moses names what’s happening as the people being “broken loose”. Some translations translate that phrase as “were made naked”. Again, Garden of Eden imagery returns—however this time, while naked and unashamed, they should very much be ashamed. Even their neighboring pagan enemies look on them with disgust. The insanity and embarrassment of their sin is evident to all but to themselves. And Moses lays the blame squarely on one man—Aaron. According to Moses, the sin of the people did not just spring out of nowhere, like Aaron’s claim that the golden calf just popped out of the fire. No. Aaron, a type of a sinful Adam, is culpable. To Moses, it is Aaron who caused the people to break loose, it is Aaron who made them naked, and it is he who brought shame and wrath on the people of God.

What’s required now is simple: not easy, but simple—repentance. Repentance. Aaron and all who took part in the debauchery needed to name their sin, recognize it as vile sin against a holy God, repent, and by God’s grace obey his commands. Repentance— full, unqualified repentance—is how you put to death that which is earthly in all of us. 

Listen at this amazing grace promised to us in 1 John 1:8–9

If we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us. If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness.

—1 John 1:8–9

Is there any unrepentant sin in your life right now? How long have you followed Adam and Aaron—deceiving yourself by claiming that there is no sin. Make today the day that you confess that sin fully to God and to whoever you have sinned against, and look at what is promised if you do: forgiveness. And we see that playing out in Exodus 32 as well.

Receive mercy.

The first half of the golden calf episode, Exodus 32:1–14, which Ryan preached last week, is almost like the heavenly courtroom—God as the prosecutor and Judge, Moses as the mediator and defense. On the mountain, mercy has already been decided. But in 32:15–35, we have the consequences of the sin play out. 

Consequences are inevitable when it comes to our sin, but if you belong to the people of God, you no longer relate to God as Judge, but as Father. Philip Ryken puts it this way:

Sooner or later God will confront our sin, just as Moses confronted the Israelites. Out of his great mercy, and on the basis of his covenant, God had already decided not to destroy the Israelites. However, their sin still needed to be dealt with in a godly way, and this meant that they were going to have to face its consequences. This is always necessary. Forgiveness removes the guilt of sin but not its consequences. Nor should it. God uses the consequences of our sin in a sanctifying way, teaching us never to do the same thing again.

—Philip Ryken

Like a loving father disciplining his children, the consequences of sin are not purely punitive, but corrective. But as we look at the end of this scene, it’s hard to see how killing 3,000 men that day was merciful or loving or corrective. Why the slaughter of 3,000 men? The text makes clear that the 3,000 that were killed were the most unrepentant. And the execution of those 3,000 was a message to the 3 million that they all deserved to die for what they did. And yet, because of Moses’ mediation and because of God’s rich mercy, they are spared.

Moses then continues to lead and mediate for the people by returning to the top of the Mountain of God in an attempt to make atonement for their sin. Before, Moses pleaded for mercy from the Lord on the basis of his covenantal promises—now he personalizes it. He begs the Lord to forgive their sin, and if not, he pleads that he receive the punishment that the people deserve.

Where Aaron said, “the people made me do it”, Moses says “my life for theirs”. Moses—who the people rejected after feeling abandoned by him that led to the creation of the golden calf—he was willing to give up his own life for theirs. And while Moses’ heart displays the heart of a good and godly man and mediator, his offering would not suffice.

And yet, there is one whom Moses points to, whose substitutionary life and death could actually pay for the sins of his people. There is one who stood before the Judge, completely innocent, and said “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do.” There is one who actually did stand in the breach that our sin caused, declaring “my life for theirs!” There is one who received the full weight of the just and infinite wrath of God so that you and I could receive the full, free, and infinite love of the Father. There is one who died so that you would not experience death, but life. There is one whose death secures for you mercy and grace and peace with the almighty, holy God. There is one who now pours out his Spirit among us, enabling us to actually change and no longer walk in the ways of the flesh, but to put on the new man secured by his great and gracious sacrifice. That one is the god-man, Jesus Christ.

Do you know him? Do you trust him? Do you cling to him? It is only because of Christ that we can have our eyes opened to the filth of our sin and see it for what it is—rebellion against a perfect and holy God. It is only because of Christ that we can hate that sin, confess that sin, and receive from him mercy and forgiveness. Do you want to be free from bitterness? Do you want to be free from pornography? Do you want to be free from pride and selfishness and idolatry? Avail yourself of Christ. 

It is only in him that we are spared from the wrath of God—paid for you and for me at the cross on calvary, in his blood shed for you and body broken for you. Only in him can we actually experience victory over sin because of his final victory over the grave. It is Christ, the son of God incarnate, who is right now interceding for you before the Father. Christian, behold your great and loving savior! Fear not. Hate your sin. Repent of that sin fully. And rest in the unfathomable mercy of God secured for you by the precious blood of Jesus.