Jesus, the True and Better Moses

Standing at the foot of Mount Sinai must have been terrifying.

Thunder crashed overhead. Lightning split the sky. The mountain itself trembled, wrapped in smoke like a furnace, with the very presence of God descending in fire. The trumpet blast grew louder and louder until God answered Moses in thunder from the peak.

The Israelites stood there, trembling, knowing that even touching the edge of the mountain meant death. They had been told to wash their clothes, consecrate themselves, and prepare their hearts for three days. And now, finally, they were about to meet with the Almighty.

This moment in Exodus 19 represents one of the pinnacles of Old Testament revelation. God was establishing His covenant with His chosen people. He was giving them an identity: "You shall be my treasured possession among all peoples... a kingdom of priests and a holy nation."

But here's the remarkable truth that changes everything: as glorious as this moment was, we have something even better.

The Pattern of Deliverance

Consider Moses' life as a pattern. He was delivered through the waters of the Nile as a baby. He spent forty years in the wilderness where he encountered the burning presence of God on the mountain. He provided water for helpless people at a well, driving away those who would prevent them from drinking.

Now look at Israel's journey. They too were delivered through waters—the Red Sea. They too were brought into the wilderness where they encountered God's burning presence on the mountain. They too received water from Moses when they were helpless and thirsty.

The pattern isn't coincidental. The mediator of God's people must first experience the journey himself in order to lead others along the same path.

This is where Jesus enters the story in the most profound way. Through His own journey—His incarnation, His temptation in the wilderness, His suffering and death—He opened the way to God. And by that same experience in our humanity, He is fully able to sympathize with our weakness and bitter sufferings along the way.

We don't have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with us. Jesus walked the path first, experiencing everything we face, yet without sin. When we struggle with difficult family members, He understands—His own family didn't believe in Him during His earthly ministry. When we face temptation, He knows what that feels like. When we suffer, He has been there.

From Conditional to Complete

Notice the nature of God's promise to Israel in Exodus 19: "Now therefore, **if** you will indeed obey my voice and keep my covenant, **then** you shall be my treasured possession."

Moses delivered a conditional message. The promises were real, but they depended on Israel's obedience. Moses delivered the way to the promises, pointing forward to something better.

Jesus, however, delivers a completed message. He doesn't just show us the way—He **is** the way. Moses delivered the law; Jesus obtained the rewards for us. All the promises of God find their "yes" in Jesus (2 Corinthians 1:20).

Think about what this means practically. Israel was told they **shall be** God's treasured possession, a kingdom of priests, a holy nation—if they obeyed. But the apostle Peter, writing to the church, changes the tense entirely. He doesn't say "you shall be." He declares: "You **are** a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession" (1 Peter 2:9).

We don't work toward these promises. Through Christ's death and resurrection, we have obtained them. We own them. We walk in them. We are defined by them.

The Priesthood of All Believers

This truth about being a "kingdom of priests" deserves special attention. Israel was meant to be a light to the nations, but instead they became like the nations. They failed in their priestly calling.

But Jesus is the light of the world, and now we walk in that light. The entire church—not just pastors or professional ministers—constitutes a kingdom of priests. Martin Luther called this "the priesthood of all believers."

You cannot choose to be a treasured possession but opt out of being a priest. You might choose to be a poor priest, but this is what you are. It's your identity now.

This calling extends into every corner of your life. You minister to your neighbors through game nights. You shine Christ's light on your sports team. You reflect His glory at school, in your neighborhood, at work. The question isn't whether you're called to ministry—you are. The question is: What is dimming your light?

What makes it hard for others to see Christ in you? What conformity to the world has crept in so subtly that you don't even recognize it anymore?

The Privilege of Preparation

The Israelites prepared for three days to meet with God. They washed their clothes as an outward symbol of inward devotion. They avoided distractions. They focused their hearts entirely on the encounter ahead.

We often overlook how important preparation is for meeting with God. It's a privilege to prepare our hearts for worship, especially when taking the Lord's Supper. Yet how much time do we spend preparing for interviews, dates, or tests compared to preparing our hearts to meet with the living God?

Consider the contrast: the Israelites couldn't even touch the mountain on pain of death. Yet Jesus, in whom the fullness of God dwelt, reached out and touched an unclean leper. The same power and glory and holiness that descended on Mount Sinai was present in Christ—but He draws us to Himself rather than driving us away.

We're comfortable talking about the goodness of Jesus. That's easy. But we must never lose sight of His awesome holiness.

The God who descended on Mount Sinai in fire and thunder, who made the whole mountain tremble, whose voice answered Moses in thunder—this is the same God we worship today. We are relationally close with God through Christ, but we cannot treat Him like a family pet, like a fat cat that lounges around wanting an occasional treat.

God is the Lion of Judah. He is stronger, smarter, and holier than us to an incomprehensible degree. It is to His throne that we approach when we pray and worship.

As Moses prepared to receive the law from God on Mount Sinai, the people stood ready to obey. "All that the Lord has spoken we will do," they declared.

But we know how the story ends. They couldn't keep the law. None of us could. The standard was impossible.

And that's precisely the point. The law reveals our need for someone who could keep it perfectly—someone who could mediate a better covenant. Someone who would bring God's people to Himself not based on their obedience, but on His own.

This Thanksgiving, we have much to be grateful for. The treasured possession. The royal priesthood. The holy nation. The completed promises. The better mediator. The accessible throne.

We have Jesus, who is better than Moses in every way—and that makes all the difference.