Exodus 34

God apparently isn't too miffed at Moses for hurling the stone tablets to the ground in exasperation--after all, God pretty much felt the same way as Moses did. I just like the way that God refers to the first tablets, "which you broke" (verse 1). As if Moses needed a reminder.

Before God restates some of the covenant laws to Moses, He elucidates just some of the meanings of His holy name. For much of Exodus (and Genesis as well), we've been seeing a lot of the "smiting" God, dealing harshly with people who just can't take a hint. However, He is also "slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to thousands and forgiving wickedness, rebellion, and sin" (verses 6-7). In other words, it takes an awful lot to set Him off, which should show you just how recalcitrant the Israelites could be. Of course, I'm not exactly some shining saint either; God has graciously and heartrendingly forgiven so many of my grievous errors. But if I am to truly accept and value that forgiveness, I should strive to rid myself of sin--not through my own power, but by relying on Him. I mean, knowing that I don't have to overcome sin on my own but can depend on the grace of God--how hard can that be? Yet my laziness and selfishness contrive to distance me from Him--and I'm sad to say that they often succeed.

But God also "does not leave the guilty unpunished" (verse 7). I often wonder if God draws a line between punishment and forgiveness. I know that's not a healthy way of thinking, because then many people (including me, most likely) would just creep all the way up to that line without crossing it, feeling comfortable that God will forgive all their other little peccadillos. No one wants to get to heaven and hear from God, "I don't know you." That would be more painful than being rejected by your sweetheart or celebrity crush. But if we aren't doing His work here on Earth, we face that risk.

When Moses comes down from the mountain, his face is utterly ablaze with God's glory. Nowadays, even the most godly person doesn't receive the boon of an incandescent countenance, but people should be able to easily see the figurative light emanating out of those who claim to follow Christ. Can I say that about myself? I don't really think so, and I know I have to change that. True, I'm not actively cruel to anyone--I feel like a miserable, contemptible wretch when I merely have to raise my voice at someone--but that may be just because I dislike confrontations, especially if they're in-person. And I've written this before, but it's so much easier for me to enjoy the company and repartee (though I'm mostly on the receiving end of the latter) of those whom I get along with. But my "radiant" face shouldn't have an on-off switch like some sort of flashlight; I should strive to act as Christ would with everyone in my life. Even those who think DreamWorks Animation is better than Disney/Pixar.