Original Meaning
THIS SECTION, WHICH serves as a fitting conclusion to the Book of the Covenant, mentions God’s promise of sending his angel and two prominent themes that we have seen previously in Exodus: worship of Yahweh only and the gift of land.
Worship and land have formed the backdrop for much of the Book of the Covenant and even Exodus as a whole. (1) Regarding worship, the Israelites were redeemed from Egypt so that they might “serve” Yahweh rather than Pharaoh. The jealous God was fighting for his people in order to turn their attention toward him. Redemption leads to worship. The Book of the Covenant is also concerned with Israel’s proper conduct toward their God. Even the horizontal responsibilities the Israelites have toward each other have implications for how they relate vertically to God. Both are expressions of worship.
(2) The reference to the land in this section, although brief, brings into sharper focus what has already been seen. In 15:14–16, as Israel stepped out onto the shores of the Red Sea, their attention was drawn to the next stage of its journey. Also, as noted in the previous section, the impending realization of the promise of the land is implicit throughout the Book of the Covenant, since its laws form a manifesto for how the Israelites are to conduct themselves in the land they are about to receive.
By focusing on these two central themes of worship and land, the writer not only reiterates what he has said before but prepares his readers for what is to come. Proper worship of God will form his main concern throughout chapters 25–40, where the central topic is the instructions regarding the tabernacle. The question of entrance into the land, although not a focus of the remainder of Exodus, will dominate Numbers and Deuteronomy as well as Joshua and Judges. To put it another way, whereas the first eighteen chapters of Exodus prepared Israel for its climactic appearance before God on the mountain, this section begins our journey down the mountain, symbolically speaking, by giving more detailed attention to the possession of the land.
Verses 20–26 fall into two parts, each with a command followed by consequences of either obeying or disobeying the command. (1) Listening to the angel will result in the nations being driven out of Canaan (vv. 20–23). (2) By worshiping Yahweh alone, Israel is promised well-being, long life, and offspring (vv. 24–26). The object of obedience in the first part is the angel, in the second it is God. Both are to be obeyed if Israel hopes to realize God’s plan for them, which is possession and enjoyment of the land.
Although not a dominant character, the angel has been intimately involved in Israel’s redemption throughout Exodus. He was there at Moses’ call (3:2) and was involved in Israel’s redemption (14:19–20). Hence, it is fitting that he guide Israel on the next stage in their journey, the way toward Canaan (see also 32:34; 33:2).
The people are told to listen carefully to what the angel says and obey him (v. 21). Obviously the angel will be speaking to them in some sense. It is not clear how we are to take this, however, since we do not read in the Pentateuch about the angel of Yahweh communicating with the people, giving them commands, and so forth, but of God doing so. Perhaps this is an indication of the close identification of the angel and Yahweh, for their roles are somewhat interchangeable. Moreover, the simple fact that the two are so closely juxtaposed in this section (Israel must obey both in order to enter the land) is a serious step toward equating them. Note too the close identification at the end of verse 21, that Yahweh’s “Name is in him.” Reminiscent of chapter 3, where the angel and the divine name are first brought together, this statement serves to make the equation of the two figures unavoidable. Finally, the curious syntax of verse 22 forces the reader to equate the two: “If you listen carefully to what he says and do all that I say. . . .” Listening to the angel means obeying God.1
What is somewhat striking here is the warning that the angel will not forgive Israel if they rebel. What are we to make of this, especially in light of the fact that forgiveness is precisely what we find throughout Israel’s desert experience? Perhaps it simply means that Israel’s rebellions will not go unpunished without there being any implication of irrevocable rejection. Yet we should not overlook the severity of this warning. The same Hebrew expression (the verb naśaʾ followed by the preposition le) is used in Genesis 18:24 with respect to the destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah. Here we have a dire warning to Israel to obey the angel fully or suffer the horrible consequences.
Hyperbole is not unknown in the Old Testament, and this is what we may be dealing with here. It simply will not do to give a warning in any other way! Imagine God saying, “Listen to the angel, but if you do not, don’t worry, I’ll forgive you anyway.” This could hardly be! A warning must be made in no uncertain terms. It is by obeying the angel that Israel will possess the land (vv. 22–23). The angel will wipe out all of Israel’s enemies, those who now possess the land of Canaan.
Verse 24 issues another command, not to worship the gods of the Canaanites. This command follows logically upon the preceding topic. Israel’s great temptation after entering the land was mixing with its inhabitants and assuming some or all of their religious practices. To help minimize this influence, the angel will wipe these heathen people out (v. 23). After entering the land, the Israelites are to refrain from Canaanite religions. Their resistance is to take on an active dimension: They are to destroy the Canaanite idols and break their sacred stones (v. 24). As a result, they will receive blessings: well-being, offspring, and long life (v. 26).2 This is more than merely possessing the land; it is enjoying it and living life to its fullest.
Verses 27–30 continue the theme of Israel’s entrance into the land, but it adds a somewhat expected detail: The Conquest will take place little by little (see also Deut. 7:22). As the angel will go ahead of the Israelites in their journey, God says that he will send his “terror” (Hebrew ʾemah) ahead of the Israelites to throw the nations into confusion (Ex. 23:27). The same word was used in 15:16, where the topic is also Israel’s conquest of Canaan. This “terror” is not some personification of Yahweh or the angel, but the report that Canaan will hear of Yahweh’s dealings with the Egyptians.3 This much is made clear in 15:14–16:
The nations will hear and tremble;
anguish will grip the people of Philistia . . .
terror [ʾemah] and dread will fall upon them.
As a result the Canaanites will “turn their backs and run” (23:27).
The reference to a “hornet” in verse 28 is not likely literal. The Hebrew word (ṣirʿah) only occurs three times in the Old Testament, and its meaning is uncertain.4 It is probably a graphic symbol of God’s defeat of the Canaanites. It, like the “terror” of the preceding verse, buckles the knees of the Canaanites and sends them scurrying for cover.
Verses 29–30 anticipate a problem that this fledgling community will encounter. Their numbers are not yet large enough to take complete and sudden possession of the land. Canaan certainly supports a much larger population than the Israelites who will be displacing them. Simply annihilating or chasing off the inhabitants will leave the land to be overrun by wild animals. Its arable land cannot be cultivated in the absence of a sufficient number of workers and will therefore become desolate. Hence, the Conquest will take place little by little, in stages—just how many years we are not told—until the population can sustain the land God will give them.
This series of events is played out in the pages of the book of Judges, although there the reason given for a “partial” conquest is Israel’s inability (disobedience) to drive out the Canaanites completely, not concern for the health of the land. As the next several books of the Old Testament make clear, the systematic, measured plan of conquest described here meets several roadblocks until its final fulfillment during the reign of David. Even there, one cannot say that the ideal scene depicted here actually takes hold, at least for very long. The implications of this will be discussed in the Bridging Contexts section.
Verses 31–33 reinforce the notion of Israel’s complete possession of the land. The general borders God intends for Israel’s possession are given. The southern borders will be the “Red Sea,” that is, Egypt, and the desert. The western border will be the Mediterranean (“Sea of the Philistines”). The northern border will be the Euphrates (“the River” in Hebrew).5
Verses 32–33 remind the Israelites once again about worshiping other gods. This has been a refrain from the Ten Commandments and throughout the Book of the Covenant. It is, therefore, a fitting conclusion to this important scene on Mount Sinai that began in 20:22. What anchors the message of this entire section is Yahweh’s insistent teaching to his people that they belong to him and him alone. He is their God who brought them out of Egypt. If they do not remember this foundational fact, if they do not let this truth seep into their hearts, the laws are nothing but hollow precepts and the Promised Land nothing but another plot of earth.
Bridging Contexts
THE ANGEL IS WITH GOD’S PEOPLE. As mentioned above, this is not the first place we have seen the angel active in Exodus.6 He was there at the call of Moses in chapter 3, at Israel’s redemption in chapter 14, and now at Israel’s journey to Canaan. The angel’s role here continues his redemptive role from the beginning of God’s redemptive work in Israel. Regardless of the mystery surrounding his precise identity and despite the fact that he is not frequently mentioned in Exodus, he is no doubt a central figure in Israel’s redemption. And when we keep in mind the virtual equation of the angel and Yahweh, it follows that the angel’s presence is an indication of God’s presence with his people from beginning to end. His appearance here reminds Israel of God’s faithfulness in bringing to a conclusion what he began in the opening chapters of Exodus.
Like the reference to the angel in 14:19–20, the angel here is also said to go “ahead of” the Israelites. This is another example of what we have seen throughout Exodus. God’s honor is at stake here. It is his battle and it is for his sake that Israel was not only to be redeemed from Egypt but will settle within the borders of Canaan, a visible sign to all the nations that Yahweh is the great and only God. The angel goes ahead in order to guard God’s people. God will bring them safely to Canaan. Resistance to his plan by outsiders is to be expected (see 17:8–16 and Israel’s subsequent history). But none of this is to be a concern for Israel. The angel, God himself, will go before them, guard them, and make sure they get to where they are going. This is more than simply saying that God is with his people. He is their buffer and shield going before them.
Of the three places where the angel is mentioned in Exodus, 23:20–33 is unique in introducing the notion of obedience. He is stone silent earlier, both in Moses’ call and when Israel crossed the sea. But here he begins to take on a more prominent role in Israel’s life. He will be a constant, abiding presence with the Israelites, and he will be a figure to whom Israel will now be called to respond. It seems that this “deepening” of Israel’s relationship with the angel corresponds to the deepening of their knowledge of the God who brought them out of Egypt and led them to Mount Sinai. Increased knowledge of God and the angel go hand in hand.
These aspects of the angel’s role in this passage can be seen elsewhere in Scripture. The angel’s abiding presence with the Israelites not only in the initial stages of their redemption but through to the end is a notion that forms the entire backdrop of the redemptive drama of the Old Testament. God never gives up on his people. The Old Testament, as we have seen repeatedly, is a story of God’s persistence in forming a people, who are rebellious and thankless at heart, into the people of God. God not only begins the process but sees it through to the end. If he did not, there would be no victory; the goal would never be reached.
The successive stories that unfold on the pages of the Old Testament tell of a God who initiates the relationship with a people and thus calls them his own. Unfortunately, their behavior does not always live up to his expectations, but he never fully rejects them. He disciplines them, to be sure—the parade example being the exile to Babylon—but this constitutes a temporary setback in God’s purpose. The reason for even the most condemning words of the prophets was to bring Israel back to God, not to keep them at arm’s distance. The reason for the frequent words of the psalmists concerning divine abandonment is to assure God’s people that he has in fact not abandoned them. God does not call a people only to leave them to their own devices later on.
This notion of God’s abiding presence with his people is expressed even more forcefully by the fact that the angel is said to go “ahead of” the Israelites. The first thing the nations will see as Israel approaches is not Israel’s spears or armor or chariots or horses, but Israel’s God. He goes before them to intimidate would-be attackers and send them into terror and panic (23:27–28). As we continue reading in Exodus, we find that another figure begins to take on a similar role: the cloud (cf. 14:19–20, where the cloud appears along with the angel). In fact, there is a close identification between the two in this passage:
Then the angel of God, who had been traveling in front of Israel’s army, withdrew and went behind them. The pillar of cloud also moved from in front and stood behind them, coming between the armies of Egypt and Israel. Throughout the night the cloud brought darkness to the one side and light to the other side; so neither went near the other all night long. (italics added)
As the angel moves, so does the cloud. So, when the cloud begins to take on prominence later in Exodus (and in Numbers), we must keep in mind the close connection these two figures displayed earlier. Note, for example, the closing verses of Exodus (40:36–38):
In all the travels of the Israelites, whenever the cloud lifted from above the tabernacle, they would set out; but if the cloud did not lift, they did not set out—until the day it lifted. So the cloud of the LORD was over the tabernacle by day, and fire was in the cloud by night, in the sight of all the house of Israel during all their travels.
As the angel is promised to move ahead of the Israelites on their journey to Canaan, the cloud will guide them through their desert journeys. I do not mean to blur the distinctions between these two figures, as if to suggest that they are basically the same. But they do perform a virtually identical function. Both are tangible manifestations of God’s presence with his people to bring them to their final goal.
As Israel’s story in Exodus continues, we will see a third figure, the ark of the Testimony, occupying a role similar to that of the cloud and the angel. It is first mentioned in 25:10–22, where instructions are given for how it is to be built. Its function is described in 25:22: “There, above the cover between the two cherubim that are over the ark of the Testimony, I will meet with you and give you all my commands for the Israelites.” It is the meeting place from which God speak commands to his people. The ark is not simply a piece of furniture to place within the tabernacle, but a physical object to which they can point and say, “This is where we meet God.”
Also, we see here some overlap of the ark with the angel’s role in 23:22, that of giving commands that the people are expected to obey. Both are vehicles through which God speaks to his people. A further connection between the function of the ark and that of the angel may be seen in Numbers 10:33–36 (italics added):
So they set out from the mountain of the LORD and traveled for three days. The ark of the covenant of the LORD went before them during those three days to find them a place to rest. The cloud of the LORD was over them by day when they set out from the camp. Whenever the ark set out, Moses said,
“Rise up, O LORD!
May your enemies be scattered;
may your foes flee before you.”
Whenever it came to rest, he said,
“Return, O LORD,
to the countless thousands of Israel.”
The mixture of figures portrayed in this passage is significant. It describes the Israelites’ departure from Sinai, and we read that the ark went before them.
This is precisely what the angel is said to do in 23:20 in anticipation of leaving Sinai. Further, not only is the ark said to accompany the Israelites but the cloud, too, is “over them by day.” This juxtaposition of the cloud and the ark reinforces the fact that they are indeed two separate entities, but both are involved in Israel’s continued progress toward Canaan. Most important is the close identification of the ark with God himself. This is why when the ark sets out, Moses says, “Rise up, O LORD!” Again, this is not to equate the ark with God! But the ark is the concrete manifestation of God’s presence with his people. These passages, when read in light of the role of the angel in Exodus, form a complex of figures all of which share similar roles in Israel’s journey and manifest the presence of God to them.
The main point to be made here is that God goes before his people. He is not just with them; he is the dominant presence. God does not move whenever Israel does; rather, Israel moves when he does. Numbers 14:44–45 records what happens when Israel ignores this order of events. Israel is “presumptuous” in attacking the Amalekites and Canaanites without the ark first moving from the camp. The result of the battle is predictable: The Israelites are beaten back.
Israel’s crossing of the Jordan River in Joshua 3 is also worth mentioning here. We have already seen the parallels between the crossing of the Red Sea in Exodus and the crossing of the Jordan by the successive generation. These parallels include the role of ark as going before the people (Josh. 3:6). Israel’s crossing of the Jordan is sanctioned by God’s guiding presence, as was their crossing of the Red Sea and their departure from Sinai. At every step along the way, God takes the lead, bringing his people to the goal he has planned for them. It is his journey, his people, his plan, his honor.
After a series of misadventures and temporary measures (see 1 Sam. 4–6; 2 Sam. 6; 15) the ark finally comes to rest in the Most Holy Place of the temple (1 Kings 8). The fact that the ark now ceases moving ahead of the Israelites means that they have finally arrived at the place to which God has been leading them. God is still with his people, but the people are now settled. The purpose for which the ark was built has been fulfilled. The reason for which Israel was brought out of Egypt has been realized. The people are in the land and God is in their midst.
This brings us to the matter of obedience to the angel. The preceding discussion helps clear up a point mentioned earlier. Exodus 23:20–22 does not really explain what obedience to the angel means. It is not the angel who gives commands but God. But the complex of images seen above brings things into better focus. First, obedience to the angel can refer, at least in part, to Israel’s obedience to God in following the angel (cf. Num. 14:44–45 as an example of disobedience). Perhaps this is the command the Israelites are expected to obey.
But I hardly think this is all Exodus 23:22 refers to, since it says, “If you listen carefully to what he says and do all that I say.” Obedience to the angel is more comprehensive than simply the issue of when the Israelites are to break camp. The connection between the angel, the cloud, and the ark is a more fruitful line of discussion. As with the cloud and the ark, the angel is a tangible manifestation of God’s presence with his people, so much so that any of these three objects can simply be equated with God. Recall 3:1–4, where the angel of the Lord appeared to Moses in the burning bush, but it was the Lord who spoke to him from there; or 14:24, where God looks down from the midst of the pillar of cloud. To say that the angel will command the people is nothing other than saying that God himself will speak to them.
There is one final matter concerning obedience that is worth reiterating. It is common in the Old Testament to read of God’s people benefiting from their obedience and being punished for their disobedience (e.g., Deut. 7:12–8:20; 28:1–68). God requires obedience, and disobedience leads to death. But these statements must be understood in light of two others. (1) The command to obey and the list of consequences of either obedience or disobedience are given to Israel after they have been redeemed. The warnings to obey are only applicable to a people who have already become God’s property. Obedience is not a condition for salvation, but expected of those who are saved.
(2) As obviously stern and unyielding as these warnings are, the equally obvious observation cannot escape us: God never fully carries out the threat. God does punish, to be sure, but he always has in his plan the intention to rebuild a people who will eventually be obedient. This is the significance of the theology of the remnant so prevalent in Isaiah. Israel will be punished by exile, but a remnant will return, a purified “stump” will be left (Isa. 6:13), from which will grow an entire nation. To put it another way, God’s threat not to forgive rebellion (Ex. 23:21) falls short of the ideal. This is not to say that God is a liar! It is, rather, a snapshot of the good news of the gospel in the Old Testament.
When we turn to the New Testament, we see how these themes are played out in light of the person and work of Christ. The most concrete manifestation of God’s presence with his people is Jesus. God actually becomes one of his people. Jesus is fully human (a more concrete image would be hard to come by), and in him God’s people see God’s glory.
Through the work of the Holy Spirit Christ abides with his people continually. He is with us through every stage in our redemptive journey. He is with us at the beginning: We are called by him into his kingdom. And having called us, he does not leave us to our own strength in holding on to him; he holds on to us and sees the process through to the end. Like the Israelites, the church is a reflection of God’s glory. His honor is at stake in maintaining his people.
And just as obedience was expected of the Israelites, it is also expected of the church of Christ. We have looked at this a number of times already. Being in Christ does not mean that obedience is no longer required or that it is optional. The exact opposite is the case (Rom. 6:1–14). means an ever deepening of one’s joyously obedient relationship with him. In fact, it is only God’s people to whom the commands are given, for they alone are able to obey.
But what of the blessings for obedience and punishments for disobedience? We have seen a hint of what is to come in Exodus 23 already. The punishment of “no forgiveness” is never fully carried out in the lives of the Israelites. Neither is it carried out in the life of the church. This is because Christ himself shouldered on the cross the full burden of God’s punishment. It is not that the punishments of the Old Testament are less real to us. Rather, they are more graphic and horrible for Christ who, like the angel, guides us and guards us along the journey. The retribution promised in the Old Testament for disobedience is fully born by Christ alone, the only truly obedient one.
Likewise, the blessings of the Old Testament must also be seen in light of the work of Christ. We partake in the benefits of Christ’s obedience and therefore are the beneficiaries of far greater blessing than that envisioned in the Old Testament. We experience more fully the reality to which the Old Testament blessings pointed. Living on this side of the resurrection, we actually see the new day dawning, the arrival of the kingdom of God, the return to the splendor of the Garden of Eden, a reality that was only hinted at in the Old Testament.
The land of God. We noted above that the borders of the land given in Exodus 23:31 are ideal borders. The first such description is in Genesis 15:18, where Abraham is promised the land “from the river of Egypt to the great river, the Euphrates.” The “river of Egypt” is not actually in Egypt, but is typically identified as Wadi el-Arish, which forms the southwestern border of Israel. The Euphrates, however, is the northern border. When did Israel’s kingdom extend this far north?
According to 1 Kings 4:21 (see also 2 Chron. 9:26), it was during Solomon’s reign that the kingdom reached this far north. This seems to have been short-lived, however. More typically, Israel’s northern border is said to be Lebo Hamath, a town along the Orontes River, well south of the Euphrates.7 For example, as early as 1 Kings 8:65, we read that all Israel, “from Lebo Hamath to the Wadi of Egypt” (el-Arish), came to the festival to dedicate the temple. These two geographic locations indicate that the entire kingdom in principle came to the festival. But why do we not read “from the Euphrates to the Wadi of Egypt,” especially since these are the borders of the land given only four chapters earlier?
Far from being a careless error on the part of the writer, the descriptions of the borders of the land reflect the political realities during Solomon’s day. Note 1 Kings 11:23–25, which refers to the opposition of Rezon king of Aram against Solomon. Rezon ruled from Damascus, the capital of Aram, and remained a constant thorn in Solomon’s side throughout his reign. So, although in one sense Solomon’s kingdom extended far north, his control over that area was not absolute. In fact, it is difficult to determine in what way Solomon “reigned” over the area extending to the Euphrates when from early on in his reign, even back to David’s kingship, Damascus actively opposed Israel (see 2 Sam. 8:6; 10:6–7). Also, the fact that Jeroboam II, who reigned over the northern kingdom from 793–753 B.C., “restored the boundaries of Israel from Lebo Hamath to the Sea of the Arabah” (i.e., Dead Sea; 2 Kings 14:25) suggests that Lebo Hamath represented the northernmost “reasonable” boundary of Israel.
Another problem is the fact that 1 Kings 4:21, although referring to the land of Aram up to the Euphrates, merely implies Solomon’s rule over this area. Exodus 23:31 makes clear that the inhabitants of that land would be handed over to the Israelites and driven out. Perhaps this verse should not be taken literally, and the situation of 1 Kings 4:21 can be considered the fulfillment of this divine word. Nevertheless, when we compare these two passages, it does seem as if the ideal of Exodus has not yet been realized, even in 1 Kings 4:21, which itself seems to be an idealized expression of a more tumultuous political situation.
But to come to grips with the meaning of the borders of the land as given in Exodus 23:31, we will have to look beyond the political realities of either Moses’ or Solomon’s day. In my opinion, it seems that the ideal borders of Israel were never truly realized.8 At best during the reigns of Solomon and the political renaissance under Jeroboam II do we briefly see these borders realized in principle, but not in detail. Rather than concluding, as some might, that God’s plan was thwarted or that an overzealous Judahite writer wanted to present the reign of Solomon in the best possible light, I suggest that this “partial” realization of these borders serves a theological purpose. It forces the readers, both ancient and modern, to look beyond mere geography to something more significant. Dissatisfaction with how the plan seems to be unfolding nudges one to reevaluate the entire context in which the fulfillment ought to be expected.
Ultimately, God is not interested in merely one patch of land in the ancient Near East—regardless of whether that land extends to the Euphrates or not! The whole world belongs to him, and it is God’s desire that his rule be extended to its four corners. The ideal borders of Israel, which were never attained, are a microcosm of the whole earth. Israel’s borders never extend to the Euphrates, because these expansive boundaries represent theologically the ultimate boundaries with which God is concerned.
Conquest of the “land,” meaning the earth, must wait for a future time and a future king. In other words, the kingdom of Israel, which in the Old Testament was ruled by a king and was eventually expected to extend in the manner described in 23:31, is fulfilled in the coming of Christ, the true king, to whom the whole world was given as his kingdom (Matt. 28:18; 1 Cor. 15:27; Eph. 1:21–22; Phil. 2:9–10). The fact that the true king has come and now rules the whole world does not mean that the border promises of the Old Testament have somehow been forgotten. What it does mean is that that which was not fulfilled in the Old Testament has now been fulfilled to a far greater degree at the death and resurrection of Christ.
Few Old Testament saints would quibble, I suspect, that Christ’s rule over the whole world did not do justice to the less expansive promises given in the Old Testament. It is not the case that the New Testament fulfillment of the land is “merely” spiritual, as if the physical promises of the Old Testament are somehow more real than spiritual realities, but that the New Testament spiritual realities fulfill the Old Testament and then some.
We must take this one step further. Ultimately, God’s intention is not just to enthrone King Jesus over the whole world, but over the world to come. The ideal borders of Canaan extend beyond this world into the next. As we have seen elsewhere, this is what the new Jerusalem and the new heaven and earth represent in the book of Revelation. The new world order has come. It is a re-creation of the Garden of Eden itself. It is to this ultimate reality that the land promises, which always seemed to be frustrated in the Old Testament, pointed.
Contemporary Significance
CHRIST, OUR ANGEL. The “angel” is still with God’s people. We do not look back at the abiding presence of the angel with the Israelites and heave a sigh of resignation for bygone days. The angel is more deeply felt now than ever before.
The spirit of the risen Christ, the Holy Spirit, is always with us. This is Jesus’ final statement to his disciples at the end of Matthew’s Gospel: “And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age” (Matt. 28:20). Christ does now what the angel did for the Israelites. He is truly with us at every step in our journey. He was there at our redemption, not with arms folded waiting to see if we would make the right choice, but calling us into his presence. And having called us, he now walks ahead of us to guard us and guide us home. Such personal application of the angel is already hinted at in the Old Testament.
The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear him,
and he delivers them. (Ps. 34:7)
May they [the psalmist’s enemies] be like chaff before the wind,
with the angel of the LORD driving them away;
may their path be dark and slippery,
with the angel of the LORD pursuing them. (Ps. 35:5–6)
The image offered to us in these passages is not one of “God is my copilot.” The angel of the LORD is around his people, driving the enemy away and pursuing them. Christ is not our copilot. Perhaps it is unfair to take this popular image too literally, but taken in its least favorable light, a copilot is someone who helps the main pilot fly the plane. Is this what we mean, that Jesus helps us out while we do the main navigating? If we wish to keep this image, perhaps we could change it. We are his copilots. He is the one driving the ship. True, we sit to one side and work the controls, but we do so at his direction. And, as any copilot knows, it is the pilot who is ultimately in charge and responsible for what happens.
Christ is my pilot. Can there be anyone better to whom to entrust our lives? Christ is the guiding and guarding angel to those who know him, and by his presence we are also in God’s presence. He is powerful, capable, and compassionate toward them. He is wise, wonderful, and in control—this despite appearances to the contrary.
A number of times I have bumped into a weak and unsatisfying image of God. Many of us remember several years ago the Pan Am flight that blew up in the sky over Scotland. National mourning followed. Many of those who died so tragically in that flight had been college students at Syracuse University taking a holiday trip, which the university offered yearly. (One of my best friends from high school had been on the very flight a couple of years earlier.) After the memorial service for the students, a chaplain was interviewed on the evening news and was asked what he told the grieving families. He said that the most important thing he could tell them was that “God is mourning with you.”
Now, this could mean one of two things: either that God is compassionate and caring, or that we are all—God included—caught in this topsy-turvy world of chaos, where bad things happen to good people, and that God is as helpless as the rest of us.9 Hence, the best he can do is mourn with us, a sort of elderly uncle sharing our pain.
This is not the type of thinking that will change the world. Rather, it is little more than nonsense touted by people who have learned to hold the power of God at bay. Christ is not a weak, helpless bystander. He is the angel, God in the pillar of cloud, the presence of God seated above the ark. He has been raised from the dead and has therefore conquered death. I cannot claim to understand how Christ “reacts” to tragedies (though cf. John 11:35), but we do know that he conquered death. And if this is so, can we really say that he responds to death the way we do? Death, to be sure, is the hated enemy, but Christ conquered death.
To know that Christ is our angel is a source of ever-deepening comfort to the Christian. To understand truly what that means is the goal of our lifelong journey of faith. In Exodus, the angel speaks to the Israelites, which, as we have seen, means that the angel is a concrete manifestation of God’s presence with his people. Christ speaks to us as well, not as an angel or as seated on the ark in the temple. The Holy Spirit is the ultimate manifestation of God’s indwelling presence with his people. Too often, even in evangelical theology, we do not know what to do with the Holy Spirit. He does not always get the press he deserves. But it is his role to maintain that tie we have with God. He manifests God to us, not by speaking to us from the temple, but by taking up residence himself in each and every one of us, the people of God, whom Paul refers to as his “temple” (1 Cor. 3:17; 6:19).
If we carry through this analogy with Exodus—that Christ is our angel and by the Holy Spirit he speaks to us—we come up to the issue of obedience. As the Israelites were expected to obey the angel, so we are to be fully obedient to Christ. But what about the blessings for obedience and the punishments for disobedience. Do such things apply to us today?
On the one hand, I am tempted to say “no.” Christ bore God’s full punishment for us on the cross, so we should say that the punishments of the Old Testament are no longer our concern. Through Christ’s obedience, our (actually Adam’s) disobedience is undone and forgotten. The blessings, however, are ours, since we benefit from Christ’s obedience.
Yet this perspective does not do justice to the analogy. The command to obey the angel was given to a people already redeemed. It is in their redeemed state that they are still expected to obey the angel or suffer the consequences. Is this something we today should take to heart as well? Scripturally speaking, I think we do.
The New Testament is full of admonitions to Christians to live their lives in the light of the resurrection. It is more than just a matter of “you really ought to.” We have no choice; obedience is required. In fact, obedience is the actual demonstration to each other and to the world that we are redeemed people. A difficult passage that has long figured into this discussion is Hebrews 6:4–6, a passage that must be taken with utmost seriousness:
It is impossible for those who have once been enlightened, who have tasted the heavenly gift, who have shared in the Holy Spirit, who have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the coming age, if they fall away, to be brought back to repentance, because to their loss they are crucifying the Son of God all over again and subjecting him to public disgrace.
I do not wish to enter into the debate of whether a Christian can lose his or her salvation, but I will say that this passage should be unsettling to any Christian who has been taught to submit to Scripture. It seems to assume that falling away is a real option for those who have “tasted the goodness of the word of God.”10
This passage should not be dismissed lightly as an aberration of Scripture. We should understand it in a sense similar to the warning we have seen in Exodus. When a responsible Christian sees someone else who has made a credible profession of faith, but who to all appearances acts in a way that is not at all in keeping with that profession, he or she cannot very well say: “Remember that God is with you no matter what. Sure, you’re sinning—and you ought to stop—but God will not let go of you, so not to worry.” This is not how the “rhetoric of warning” works. Rather, you corner such people, pin them up against the wall (figuratively speaking), and tell them that they are within a hair’s width of falling into Satan’s hands. You (again, figuratively speaking) slap them silly, dunk their heads in ice water, and scream in their ear.
Is all this to say that there is no forgiveness for Christians? In keeping with the Exodus analogy, my answer to this is “no.” There is never a point of no return for those who are in Christ. But the word of forgiveness can only be planted in a sinner’s heart when repentance has first been sown. The human heart is not at all times equally prepared to hear the same divine message. There is a season in which understanding and forgiveness are appropriate; at other times the message of dire warning is what is needed. I can only suggest that those to whom the book of Hebrews was written were, for some reason, in the latter category. Like all of the New Testament letters, this too is written from a “pastoral” point of view. It is not an abstract theological treatise, but a letter written by someone of spiritual authority to a people he knows well and who knows what it is they need to hear. We are left, as is the case so often in Scripture, with a paradox: The warning of Hebrews 6 is real, but grace will abound all the more.
“Great is the LORD—even beyond the borders of Israel!” (Mal. 1:5). It is perhaps one of the great turnarounds as we go from the Old Testament to the New Testament. The people for whom God is zealous to give a plot of earth in the ancient Near East are commanded to leave it and go to the ends of the earth. The reason for this turnaround is what we have discussed in the previous section. Insofar as the promises are never truly fulfilled, the ultimate fulfillment of these promises must take another form.
To be more accurate, it is not the case that there is a turnaround from the Old Testament to the New. Rather, the Spirit shows us that we should have a different set of expectations. It is not that the promise of land has been abandoned, but the opposite has happened: The land now includes the whole world, the present one and the one to come. It is hard to think of a more striking way of showing that the gospel of Christ works. The expectation of the Old Testament saints has been exceeded.
This is why it is wrong to think of any land, nation, or political system as being closer to God than another. God is not an American. America is not—nor has it ever been—a “Christian” nation. The good news of the gospel is that no one nation can reserve this title. The Spirit of God is not bound by such things, nor has it been so bound since the coming of Christ. The whole world belongs to God, and he will redeem all of it. It is now the Christian’s obligation to go out into that world and play his or her role in that redemptive process, by being “Christ’s ambassadors” (2 Cor. 5:20), by proclaiming the message of the king. If any analogy is to be drawn between national Israel and today it is not with America but with the church. The church is the new Israel, ruled by the king of God’s choosing, Christ.
There is, therefore, no privileged country, nor are there privileged people. Rather, all Christians, regardless of where they are, are “between lands.” Every Christian is a citizen in God’s world, the one he has redeemed through Christ. Christ has been raised and is enthroned now over all creation (Heb. 2:9). Nevertheless, we await a future time when that spiritual reality will fully invade the world and transform it forever. Every Christian is home and at the same time far from it. Every nation is a “Christian nation,” but none has special status or pedigree.
As we journey through our lives as Christians, we must grasp that Christ, our guiding angel, has begun a process whereby we will one day enter the true Promised Land, the one spoken of in the closing chapters of Revelation. In fact, our guiding angel has already entered and prepares a way for us (John 14:2–4). Like the angel of Exodus, he has gone ahead of us. With Christ’s victory over death, this process began its unrelenting journey toward the true Canaan. We who are in Christ share in that blessing now even as we will more fully in the world to come.