The Lord himself comes to us to lead us out of the land of sin and death with his strong, nail-pierced hands.
A prevailing theme of the Book of Exodus is the way in which God makes “a people for his own possession” (1 Pet. 2:9). As God forms a nation out of former slaves, we’re made to see how he fashions us into his church, so that we, too, are a congregation that is preserved, even in the wilderness (Acts 7:38). We are the ongoing assembly of God, a people of the Passover Lamb, who was slain for us. We who were once “slaves to sin” have been set free to become “slaves of righteousness” (Rom. 6:17–18). This helps us understand the scope of the Exodus story, just as it helps us understand our own.
By the time Chapter 13 rolls around, the Israelites have been “exodused.” They’ve been brought “out of Egypt” (Exod. 13:16), and out of bondage, and into new life. This, of course, was a momentous day, one that was centuries in the making. But for as much as Israel might’ve wanted to spend a week’s time reveling in their newfound freedom, God had other plans, at least for the time being, and it involved going in a direction none of them expected.
On display as Chapter 13 comes to a close is Yahweh’s active leadership of his people. Up to this point, Exodus has showcased God as the Deliverer and Rescuer of his own. With “a strong hand,” he cleared the way to bring his people into freedom. But he didn’t just leave them there; they weren’t left to their own devices out in the wilderness. Rather, God “shepherds” them with that same “strong hand.” This, of course, didn’t always look like what they expected it to look like, but this is pretty typical of the Lord whose ways aren’t our ways (Isa. 55:8). The fact is, he rarely does what any of us anticipates. But, through it all, he always leads his dear children. That’s just who he is.
1. Not the Near Way
With Moses at the head of the column, it appears as if Israel takes a wrong turn before they’ve even left the neighborhood (Exod. 13:17–18). Instead of hopping on the route that was “near,” which would’ve made it a lot easier and quicker to get to the Promised Land, God takes them by another road, the “way of the wilderness.” This is our first sign that while the Land of Promise was God’s ultimate destination for his people, his plan wasn’t merely to change their zip code. Rather, God was desirous that they know who he is, what he’s capable of, and how deeply they need him, which meant trudging headlong into the wilderness instead of avoiding it or bypassing it.
I have to wonder what the consensus opinion was when word got out that the nearest road to Canaan wasn’t on the itinerary. No doubt, Israel’s infamous grumbling began right here, when it appeared as if an executive decision was made to take an alternate route with no prior discussion. Now, at this precise moment, was God meaning for them to spend forty years there? No, I don’t think so. That’s a reality Israel chooses, due to their own faithlessness. But God’s will for his people involved an odyssey through the barren, uninhabited wastelands. It was a way of pain, grief, and perplexity.
Even in the wilderness, we are in the limelight of God’s care.
What God does through that arid terrain is strip away every last vestige of trust and security that isn’t him, or that isn’t from him. There were no safety nets. No backup plans. No contingencies. All they had to rely on or lean on was him, which is exactly how God likes it. As the wanderings grew more wayward, Israel’s groaning grew louder. But this isn’t all that surprising. We’re human, after all, and we aren’t fond of having our safety nets ripped out of our hands, even when those safety nets are killing us. But despite how painful and perplexing it can be, it’s always for our good. Even in the wilderness, we are in the limelight of God’s care.
The Lord knew his people better than they knew themselves. He knew how fickle and fearful they were. He knew that at the first sign of trouble, they’d want to hightail it back to Egypt. Thus, the road less traveled was God’s way of watching out for his people’s hearts and lives, revealing to them that his way, perplexing though it is, is the way to a life of fulfillment and abundance. That’s what he was leading them towards, but all along, he divested them of other sources of confidence, peace, and strength, as he was making them his people and showing them that he was their God. This is what God does in, with, and through us as well.
2. Led There on Purpose
God leads us along through all kinds of perplexing and painful seasons of life, not because he is mad at us or cross with us, but because he loves us, because he wants to conform us to his image, and because he wants us to see how his grace always exceeds our needs.
The same is true in Mark 4, when, after a long day of ministry, Jesus instructs The Twelve to sail to the far side of the Sea of Galilee, only for a mammoth hurricane to threaten their lives. The point is that the storm only materialized after they followed and obeyed their Master’s words. The tempest wasn’t a result of disobedience, faithlessness, unbelief, or sin. It was the stage upon which God in Christ would show them more of himself than they ever imagined. Their beloved Teacher was none other than the one who walks on the sea as if on pavement, controlling and stilling every wave with a mere word.
In other words, the disciples were right where God wanted them, which is true for us, too. Our circumstances may vary, but God’s leadership of us does not. All our painful and perplexing places can leave us questioning where God’s leading us. Doors close; prayers go unanswered; roads dead-end. But despite the heaviness of following the Lord, even as we question where he’s leading us, it’s in the places and times of wilderness where God meets us.
3. The God Who Goes With His People
Israel’s confusion was comforted by two things: God’s promise and presence. While the Lord’s divine presence in Exodus 13 is conspicuous, his word of promise is more discreet. In fact, it’s only found among the bones. In a callback to Joseph’s deathbed proclamation, Moses refers to Joseph’s remains, which Israel had with them (Exod. 13:19). Centuries prior, knowing he was about to die and knowing what God’s promises were, Joseph hearkened back to what Yahweh told Father Abraham centuries before that — namely, that God would lead them to a place where they would dwell and God would dwell with them (Gen. 50:24–26; cf. Gen. 15:13–14). Egypt wasn’t his true home, nor his final resting place. His remains belonged in the place God had prepared for all his descendants.
This is a subtle, albeit sure, reminder that our God is a God of his word. As Israel trudged through the wilderness, these bones accompanied them, serving as a visual reminder of his promises (cf. Josh. 24:32), none of which had been forgotten. When God Almighty led his people out of a life of slavery, he shepherded them to the home he had prepared for them. He wasn’t just leading them away from oppression; he was leading them into new life. This is just what God does. As we follow the Lord along life’s winding ways, he leads us “further up and further in” to his word of promise. The longer we follow him, and the longer we’re led by him, the deeper and wider we find all his promises to be. And no matter what, he was with them, leading them along.
There was no mistaking God’s presence with them and for them. In an astounding demonstration of grace and power, God showed up in smoke and fire. “The Lord went before them,” we’re told, “by day in a pillar of cloud to lead them along the way, and by night in a pillar of fire to give them light, that they might travel by day and by night. The pillar of cloud by day and the pillar of fire by night did not depart from before the people” (Exod. 13:21–22).
The promise of God is that the presence of God isn’t a conditional thing.
This was no will-o’-the-wisp floating on the wind. As the church has long confessed, this was the Angel of the Lord, the eternal Son of God, manifest in a pillar of cloud and a pillar of fire. “The Holy One was in the midst of his people,” J. Alec Motyer says, “as their constant companion and leader from the very start of the journey.” [1] Just as he showed up for Moses in a bush that burned but never burned up, the Lord shows up in an obvious way to meet his people’s needs right where they were. When the heat of the mid-afternoon sun was bearing down, one glance skyward would reveal the shade of the Lord covering the way forward. In the darkest gloom of midnight, when the next step was more than a little unsure, the Lord was there in a blazing column of fire and light (cf. Exod. 14:19, 24; Num. 10:34; 14:14; Deut. 1:30–33; Neh. 9:12, 19; Ps. 78:14; 99:7; 105:39).
And all along their way, God preached to them through the cloud and the flames that he was with them and would never depart from them (Exod. 3:12; Deut. 31:8; Heb. 13:5). The promise of God is that the presence of God isn’t a conditional thing. He doesn’t caveat his presence for them or with them based on their circumstances. He’s no fair-weather shepherd, who only goes part of the way. He’s the Great Shepherd, who leads his people all the way, whose unconditional promise is that he is with us, no matter what. “The Pillar preaches Christ,” Henry Law once wrote, “the preceding Shepherd of His flock. Faith gazes on it, and drinks in the comfort of an ever-leading, never-leaving God.” [2]
4. Something Better Than Smoke and Fire
“Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me. If I say, ‘Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,’ even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you” (Ps. 139:7–12).
This is God’s word of promise for his people, which includes you and me as well — a promise that has not, nor ever will be, rescinded. The writer of Hebrews talks about how the church stands on “better promises” of a “better covenant” (Heb. 8:6), but I’m not quite sure we believe him, not fully, at least. There’s a part of us, though, maybe even a big part, that thinks that the people of Israel might’ve had it better. After all, they had literal pillars of cloud and fire leading them, guiding them, and telling them when to start walking or when to set up camp. Wouldn’t it be so much better if we had that same experience? We’d finally know what God’s will was. We’d know where to go, when to stay, when to leave, and when to move on. It’d be a whole lot easier, wouldn’t it?
I think we’re tempted to say yes to all those things. But as much as we might pine for God to manifest himself in similar ways, we’re woefully misguided to think Israel had it better. Part of the “better promises” that have been deposited to us, the church, is the fact that right now, right where we are, we are on better ground than the wandering Israelites. Not because our circumstances are better, easier, or more rosy, or less distressing, but because God has visited us. He has come to be with us, not as a cloud but as a man. God’s Son has taken on flesh “and dwelt among us” (John 1:14).
The Lord himself comes to us to lead us out of the land of sin and death with his strong, nail-pierced hands. He comes to be our Good Shepherd, the one who “lays down his life for his sheep” and the one who leads them to green pastures (John 10:11). With wounds still noticeable in his hands and side, reminding us of his unconditional promise and presence for us, our Good Shepherd leads us along. The church has something infinitely better than God manifest in smoke and fire. We have God with us, in Word and Spirit, both of which preach the same message to us: I am with you and for you, always. He who is the Yes and Amen of every divine promise is the one who is with us, no matter what.
[1] J. Alec Motyer, The Message of Exodus: The Days of Our Pilgrimage, Revised Edition, The Bible Speaks Today (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2021), 169.
[2] Henry Law, Christ Is All: The Gospel of the Pentateuch—Exodus (London: Religious Tract Society, 1864), 42.
