Wake

Exodus 33:12-23

I was at White Bank Park yesterday, playing a round of disc golf by the river, and I heard the sound of an approaching motor on the water. I glanced down the hill through an opening in the trees to see the parting wake of a passing…boat. At least I’m pretty sure it was a boat. I didn’t see it. I did hear the motor and see the wake. I could tell that a boat had been there, and I knew in which direction it was headed. I find this to be true with following God, as well. We cannot see God face-to-face, but if we look and listen there are signs of God’s movement all around us. We follow in the wake of God.

We like to talk about God as unchanging, but often confuse “unchanging” with “stagnant.” God is not stagnant, but rather always on the move. You could also put it this way: our God cannot be stopped. To follow such a God, then, means we must have a faith that moves. This also means it’s possible to distance ourselves from God by not moving, by “settling down” in our faith. Our faith should unsettle us and constantly stir us up in the wake of God so that we can feel and follow the movement of God in the world. In this sense, faith is much like a tube attached to the back of a boat. Faith keeps us afloat in the wake of God so long as we do not let go of it. I suppose one could also let go of the towing rope and keep afloat on the tube. Just so, we can also let go of our tether to God, yet still have faith that keeps us afloat…it is just no longer faith in God. That’s a pretty good metaphor for idolatry.

Following the wake of God also means that we do not go before God, we do not drive the boat. In other words, we cannot steer God. We cannot know with certainty where God will be, we can only see where God has been. This implies, if it isn’t already obvious, that we cannot tell God where to go or what to do. This doesn’t mean that prayer and petition are pointless. Just last week we saw Moses interceding on behalf of the Israelites that God spare them from wrath. We talked about how wrath is not so much God’s movement against us, but God’s movement away from us. “I know they’ve let go of you, God, but please don’t let them drift away.”

Moses begged God to keep the Israelites in the wake of his mercy and not to move away from them. He understands he is responsible to lead this people and ensure that they do not stagnate in a faith towed by idols. How can he do this if he does not know where God is headed, if he does not know God’s plans, if he is not shown “God’s ways”? So he asks God, “Show me your ways,” or, as Terence Fretheim puts it in his commentary on this passage, Moses asks God flat-out, “What is going on here? What are you going to do?”[1]

This is Moses first request, “Let me see your plans.” It shares a verb in common with his second request, “Let me see your glory.” God responds, “You cannot look upon my glory and live. But my goodness will pass before you, you will hear my name echoing in the wake of my grace and mercy, and you will see me as I move away.” Moses asks to see glory, but God knows better. God knows that “a direct view of God will not say much at all about God’s character,” and God wants Moses to know that he is good.[2] Therefore, Moses must not only use his eyes, he must also use his ears to hear the proclamation of God’s name. The nature of God cannot be shown to us, but must be revealed to us.

Insofar as faith is the tool by which we follow in the wake of God, it bears mentioning the famous verse from Hebrews 11 that says, “Faith is the reality of what we hope for, the proof of what we don’t see.” “For God to be fully present would be coercive; faith would be turned into sight, and humankind could not but believe,” and this would destroy human freedom. In order to preserve this freedom, “God’s presence cannot be obvious; there must be an element of ambiguity, such that disbelief remains possible. A sense of God’s mystery must be preserved.”[3]

We’re like Moses, though. We want to see something. Faith often seems like a flimsy float on which to structure our lives—especially given how often that faith is shaken. We want something more solid on which to stand, something like bricks or stone. Here’s the thing, bricks and stones crack when they are shaken (they also sink), but faith, like a fabric, is flexible. Our lives need a flexible foundation in order to feel and be moved by the ripples of God’s wake. God wants faithful followers, more concerned with knowing God than with seeing God.

Listen to how John Calvin writes about this knowledge (mind you, this is the opening statement of his Institutes of the Christian Religion):

“Nearly all the wisdom we possess, that is to say, true and sound wisdom, consists of two parts: the knowledge of God and of ourselves. But, while joined by many bonds, which one precedes and brings forth the other is not easy to discern. In the first place, no one can look upon themselves without immediately turning their thoughts to the contemplation of God, in whom they ‘live and move.’ For, quite clearly, the mighty gifts with which we are endowed are hardly from ourselves; indeed our very being is nothing but subsistence in the one God. Then, by these benefits shed like dew from heaven upon us, we are led as by rivulets to the spring itself…[Calvin goes on to speak of how sin compels us to look upward, toward God, and to recognize that we, in our depravity, cannot possibly be the source of light and wisdom. Metaphorically speaking, Calvin understands the act of confessing our sins in the presence of God to be very similar to Moses standing in the crack of a rock as the goodness of the LORD passes him by. As we hear the assurance of pardon, and pronounce the name of Christ, our savior, the hand of God is removed, allowing us to see the back of God, allowing us to see the way forward, allowing us to follow in the wake of God’s mercy. And Calvin closes his thoughts with this:] Accordingly, the knowledge of ourselves [gained in humble confession] not only arouses us to seek God, but also, as it were, leads us by the hand to find him.”[4]

Calvin didn’t even know about motorboats and towing floats, but conveniently enough speaks of God and the “mighty gifts” of life as flowing, rippling water towards which we are led by faith. We want to see, but God wants us to trust. We want to drive the boat, but God insists we hold on to the tether. It can be hard to hold on at times, especially when we are towed past shiny golden yachts filled with beautiful, sexy people enjoying rich, luxurious foods. Clearly, that is a better way to traverse these waters than floating behind a boat we haven’t even seen. It’s easy to doubt that holding onto our tether is going to get us any place better than where those beautiful, sexy people are; the temptation is strong to let go and float over to the golden yacht. But once we get there, and climb on board, we realize that the yacht is actually idle, as in I-D-L-E, not moving, stagnant, headed nowhere, stranded and directionless. It’s easy to focus on the luxury of the yacht and overlook the fact that it isn’t going anywhere, but if you happen to look out upon the water you’ll see the saints floating past. And if you peer down over the starboard gunwale, you’ll see Christ waiting for you in the waters with a float and a towing rope. Look at the lives of the saints ride the wake of God before us and trust where taking hold of the rope will lead us. Take heart and hold on to this beautiful faith we have been given by Christ. We shall see God face-to-face when the ride is over and we are pulled to the heavenly shore. Amen.

[1] Fretheim, Terence. “Exodus” from Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. 1991, John Knox Press. Louisville, KY. P 297.

[2] Ibid. 299.

[3] Ibid. 301.

[4] Calvin, John. Institutes of the Christian Religion, Vol I. 1960, Westminster Press. Louisville, KY. 35-37.