After last week’s fiasco, most of us would have ditched our “chosen people.” The Lord even indicated that that was his inclination, but Moses (speaking in human terms, from a human perspective), “changed his mind.” Or, as the first paragraph of the download puts it,
After the golden calf incident, God declared that He would let the Israelites go on to the promised land, but He would not go with them. Moses intervened again: if God would not go with them, it wouldn’t be worth going. The tabernacle was God’s answer.
Of course the Lord does nothing on the spur of the moment–even the words, “spur of the moment,” mean nothing in regard to a Being who lives outside of time. So this was the plan all along. But what was the purpose of the tabernacle? And what made it even possible?
Click below for the printable download, which includes scripture readings, thought questions, and activities:
(This is a continuation of a series of posts about the “whole story” of the Bible. I plan to run one every week, on Tuesdays, with a printable PDF. The printable includes a brief 2-3 paragraph introduction, Bible passages to read, a key verse, 5-7 thought/discussion questions, and 2-3 activities for the kids. Here’s the Overview of the entire Bible series.)
Previous: Week 12: The People – Failure!
meeting with God on Mt. Sinai. Did you know it was the same mountain? Moses has become the mediator of a covenant, and now the people are called to a covenant ceremony similar to Abraham’s in Genesis chapter 15–but bigger. Much bigger.
insinuating. It owes much of its appeal to the uprush of coolness after a hot day: the sort of dramatic, built-in contrast that could make even cream soda taste riveting. But even without the drama, summer has enough singular virtues to shine: the fresh-cut grass varieties are ravishing; the post-rains deeply satisfying. The dew-at-nightfall labels can be a tad overdone, except for those who enjoy sweet. Of course, those sticky, clinging vintages that don’t lighten up at the end of the day should be outlawed. Fortunately, those are few (at least where I live). More than any other season, summer air links us to childhood–common to all varieties is the lingering aftertaste of chasing fireflies in the field. This reminiscence is the virtue that covers a multitude of sins.
But to my taste, the finest and purest vintages are the Winters. Remarkably consistent, yet never repetitive, best enjoyed through a window raised a couple of inches in a slightly overheated room. The draft created by a well-stoked wood stove draws it in like a steely stream. Like the summer varieties, winter owes some of its appeal to contrast. After the palate has been stifled in wood and artificial heat all day, winter air sweeps in fresher than fresh, cleaner than clean, an exaggerated, sparkly essence with no hypocrisy whatsoever. Here at the end of the yearly cycle, the master of the banquet gases through the glass and murmurs in awe, “Truly, you have saved the best until last.”