read Genesis 3:1-10
The Church today is overwhelmed by an all-encompassing
sentimentalization of God’s presence. The most famous contemporary worship
figures are themselves the advocates of such a disposition. It is no wonder,
therefore, that this metatrend is gaining more and more unstoppable momentum. The
meta-ideology of worship today is that worship, if it is true worship, should
be adrenaline-flooding, heart-warming, tear-dropping, hand-raising, and emotion-stirring
experience, particularly when we sing, usually accompanied by a band. With this
frame of thought, God’s presence is quantified primarily by the manifestations
of loud applauses, whistles, extemporaneous words of praises, and numerous
choruses of “Hallelujahs!” and “Amens!”
That God’s presence can be sentimentalized is not without
biblical foundation and precedent. Already in the Old
Testament, God’s presence is understood as a comforting presence in times of
trouble (Josh 1:5). Moses encouraged Joshua with the promise of God’s presence
as they would conquer the Promised Land: “Be strong and
courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged,
for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go” (Josh 1:9). The
Israelites were doubting whether they could enter the land of the giants (Num
13:31–33; Deut 3:11), but Moses assures them by affirming that they stood in
God’s presence (Deut 29:15). They were not alone in their endeavors; in fact,
God would guide them in conquering Canaan (Deut 32:29, 32). God’s mere presence
can truly drive our anxieties away. There is comfort in the awareness that we
are not alone when we walk through the shadows and the valleys (Ps 23:4).
Through the Psalmists, we know that
the presence of God is a haven of rest. Often times, we seek God’s presence
because we know that it is where our petitions are heard. David himself sought
the Lord’s presence when Israel faced a three-year famine (2 Sam 21:1). People
gathered at the Temple because it was his tabernacle. Worshippers experience a
special closeness to God in such a place. In fact, it is the Temple that
constantly reminded Israel of God’s indwelling presence and nearness. God’s presence is a place of blessing. David proclaimed that he
is filled with joy in the Lord’s presence (Acts 2:28). When we turn and come to
God, there is forgiveness, sanctification, and refreshing (Acts 3:19).
Throughout the whole of Psalms, writers spoke about seeking God’s face, because
it is there that God’s grace and blessings are found, right where God’s “face
shines upon us” (Ps 67:1). In the last days, God’s presence will mean ultimate
blessing, for believers will see him face to face (1 John 3:2). But even today,
if we, as God’s people, humble ourselves before God, he promised that he will
hear our pleas and prayers (2 Chron 7:14; Mal 3:16).
But is the presence God solely to be understood as the place
of blessing?
The story of Adam and Eve suggests that there is something
about the presence of God that they wished to avoid; hence, they hid (Gen
3:8–10). The same is evident in the attitude of the Israelites before God at
Mt. Sinai, narrated in Exodus 19:16–19 and 20:18–21:
On the morning of
the third day there was thunder and lightning, with a thick cloud over the
mountain, and a very loud trumpet blast. Everyone in the camp trembled. 17 Then Moses led the people out of the camp to meet
with God, and they stood at the foot of the mountain. 18 Mount
Sinai was covered with smoke, because the Lord descended
on it in fire. The smoke billowed up from it like smoke from a furnace, and the
whole mountain trembled violently.
When the people saw the thunder and lightning and heard the
trumpet and saw the mountain in smoke, they trembled with fear. They stayed at
a distance 19 and said to Moses, “Speak to us yourself
and we will listen. But do not have God speak to us or we will die.” … 21 The
people remained at a distance, while Moses approached the thick darkness where
God was.
So the question is: what is there about the presence of God
that made the people of God tremble? If God’s presence is a comforting, saving,
revealing, forgiving, rejuvenating presence, why was there reluctance on the
part of the Israelites? The same fear before God is evident in several other
encounters with God. When Isaiah was in the presence of God, his reaction was
not “Hallelujah!” but “Woe to me!” (Isa 6:5). When Peter realized that he was
in the presence of God himself in Jesus Christ, he did not embrace him; rather,
he cried “Away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man” (Luke 5:8). When Manoah
realized that they he and his wife were in the presence of God’s messenger,
Manoah lamented: “We are doomed to die! We have seen God!” (Jud 13:22; cf Exo
33:20). Many others who encountered God or his angels feared for their lives
(Luke 1:11–12; 2:9). But it is only people who fear, for in God’s presence, the
whole earth trembles (Jud 5:5; Ps 68:8). In fact, the Lord himself rhetorically
asked: “Should you not tremble in my presence?” (Jer 5:22).
So, why indeed, is God’s presence not as awesome as we
actually thought it is? How is God’s presence a threat? Why is God’s presence
frightening and is something that many want to avoid, if at all possible?
God's Judging Presence
It is the people who know who God is, who are afraid of his
presence. The people who shudder at the presence of God are those who recognize
God in his majestic and incomparable holiness. Let us compare, for example, the
attitude of the Pharisees with that of the demons to Jesus Christ. The
Pharisees and the teachers of the law––who are both oblivious and blind as to
who Jesus really is––have dismissed, accused, slandered, oppressed, mocked, and
plotted against him. We, today, are utterly flabbergasted at how they have
treated the Son of God, but that is because we know who Jesus is; they simply
did not know or did not recognize such an important truth. Had they recognized
that Jesus is God himself in the flesh, they would have acted like the demons
in the Gospels. Demons who encountered Jesus responded to his presence quite
differently. The Legion who recognized Jesus trembled and feared, crying out
with a loud voice: “What do you want from me, Jesus, Son of the Most High God?”
(Mark 5:7). The said demons begged Jesus not to torture them (5:7) and that
they be sent among pigs (5:12). In the presence of the Son, who is the Holy God
himself, those who recognize him shudder.
But why is God’s holy presence so frightening? Should not
the presence of the holy God bring people closer to him? Should not the
presence of the holy God be inviting? Why were the Israelites at the foot of
Mt. Sinai so afraid of God? Why did Adam and Eve instinctively hide from God
after they sinned?
It is because of this: the presence of the holy God reveals and condemns our sinfulness. Firstly, like Isaiah, it is in the
presence of the holy God that our true identity is fully exposed. It is
fascinating that throughout the history of the Christian church, it is those
who we consider as spiritual giants that write about their sinfulness. When we
read about the life of St. Anthony and St. Francis of Assisi, or the writings
of Pseudo-Macarius or of Henri Nouwen, we don’t read them boasting about what
they have attained or how they are different from others; rather, we read them
confessing their sins, admitting their faults, divulging their daily struggles,
acknowledging their weaknesses, even declaring their flaws and their
self-assessed unspirituality and worldliness. The closer we are to God and God
to us, the more he draws himself to us and the more we draw ourselves to him,
the more do we see who God is in his holiness and see ourselves in our finite,
limited, and sinful existence.
In our theology classes, we understand that the act of God
making himself present is a moment of revelation, but we usually understand
this to mean that it is God who is making himself known. The self-presencing of
God is God’s self-manifestation and self-disclosure. We know God and about God
because he appears and draws himself to us. Such is right, but we must also
admit that God’s presence reveals not only himself, but also others. How can
this be? According to 1 John 1:5, God is
Light. Light has interesting properties. As an electromagnetic radiation,
it can be seen. [Maxwell’s Equation, named after James Clerk Maxwell of
Cambridge University, argued that light is a wave that has amptitude (the
brightness of the light), wavelength (the color of the light), and a
polarization (the angle at which light is vibrating). When Albert Einstein
came, along with quantum theory, the electromagnetic radiation was also
recognized as particles called photons. The famous dual slit experiment
validates light as both wave and particle.] The importance of light, however,
is not found in its color or amptitude, but in the fact that it is the agent by
which we see other things. It is true that we see through our eyes, but our
eyes are useless without light, even if nothing is wrong with them. What we
usually interpret as “seeing an object” is actually a progressive process that
starts with light clusters (or photons) travelling from the object to the eye.
Without light, we cannot see ourselves, or our features,
complexion, and height. It is only when light appears that we realize what we
look like. The stronger the light, the more will we see ourselves in our
undeniable reality. The closer light is to us, the more we are revealed. Hence,
if God is Light, the more God draws himself to us and the more we draw
ourselves to God, the more we truly see who and what we are. God’s mere
presence unveils us, and shatters our illusion that we can hide something from
God. When God the Light comes, the darkness which has become the ally in our
attempt to hide our true selves is banished. In this sense, there is comfort in
the darkness especially for those who have many things to hide, for the
darkness naturally conceals. In the absence of light, we can communicate with
people without them seeing what or who we really are. But because God is light,
we cannot be in his presence without being completely exposed. The New Living
Translation of Hebrews 4:13 reads like this: “Nothing in all creation is hidden
from God. Everything is naked and exposed before his eyes, and he is the one to
whom we are accountable.” Being exposed is not something that nobody looks
forward to.
It is also because God’s presence is a revealing presence
that it is also a convicting and judging presence. When a man commits a crime,
the mere presence of a police is an uncomfortable experience. When there is no
police around, the criminal can forget about his crime and even pretend that
nothing ever happened. But as soon as a police comes near, the memory of his
past rises to the surface, and fear begins to creep into his soul, for he knows
that judgment is at hand. In a similar way, when debtor owes money to a lender,
and the debtor is unable to pay, as long as the debtor does not encounter the
lender, there is a certain feeling of security. But as soon as the lender drops
his or her presence to the debtor, the debtor knows that he or she can no
longer escape judgment and shame. Avoiding the lender’s path, by all means
possible, is the only way to escape embarrassment. It is for the reasons
illustrated above that the absence of God implies the transcendence of
judgment. The space between God and humanity forms a protective barrier against
God’s penetrating gaze. But as soon as God makes himself present in our midst,
we know that judgment has arrived. The world today lives in a fleeting and
deceitful sense of security, but when Jesus Christ comes again, it will be a
different story. The coming of God in Christ is the coming of an inescapable judgment.
The prophetic and apocalyptic passages in both the Old and
New Testaments also speak about the presence of God as a double-sided coin.
This is best illustrated in the concept of “the day of the Lord.” For the
Israelites, typified by Joel 2:30–32, the day of the Lord is a day of salvation
and redemption, usually entailing the defeat of their enemies and the
restoration of their nation. It is basically a day of celebration, for God
would come and bring salvation and deliverance to the Jewish nation. But the
same day of the Lord is also painted using dark colors. Joel 2:28–32 speaks
about the coming of the Holy Spirit, but verse 31 describes it not in a very pleasing
manner: “The sun will be turned to darkness and the moon to
blood before the coming of the great and
dreadful day of the Lord” (cf Matt 24:29–31; Rev 6:12–17). Paul similarly regards the day of
the Lord as an eschatological day of destruction: “You know very well that the
day of the Lord will come like a thief in the night. While
people are saying, ‘Peace and safety,’ destruction will come on them suddenly,
as labor pains on a pregnant woman, and they will not escape” (1 Thess 5:1–3;
cf also 2 Pet 3:8–10). Isaiah seems to say that the day of the Lord is
precisely the day he had “in store for all the proud and lofty and exalted” to
be humbled (Isa 1:12). Amos paints the most depressing picture of all the
prophets:
Woe
to you who long
for
the day of the Lord!
Why do you long for the day of the Lord?
That
day will be darkness, not light.
19 It will be as though a man fled from a lion
only
to meet a bear,
as though he entered his house
and
rested his hand on the wall
only
to have a snake bite him.
20 Will not the day of the Lord be darkness, not light—
pitch-dark,
without a ray of brightness? (5:18–20)
Joel calls the day of the Lord as the day
when “everyone who calls on the name of the Lord will be saved” (2:32) but also
regards it as “great and dreadful” (2:31). The explanation is simple: the
presence or coming of God is both saving and judging; it is salvation to the
righteous and judgment to sinners.
God's Transforming Presence
If we think that it is unfortunate that God’s presence is an
exposing and judging presence, then we must be prepared to be further disappointed.
The presence of God does not only expose our ugly selves, but also demands
transformation from us. God’s presence is a demanding and transforming
presence. Before the holy God, our ugliness is exposed, not because God
delights in seeing our stained-covered selves but because he wants us to be
transformed. When we stand before God, it is either we are transformed, so that
we are enabled to remain and bask in his presence, or to persist in our
ugliness, so that we are banished from his sight. In the presence of the holy
God, it is either we conform to his demands or we leave. The parable of the
wedding banquet points out that we cannot stand before God without proper
garments, and those who come before him without conforming to his will are
thrown out (Matt 22:1–13). Hebrews 12:14 says that “no one may see the Lord
without holiness.” Psalm 24: 3–6 even has greater demands:
Who
may ascend the mountain of the Lord?
Who may stand in his holy place?
4 The one who has clean hands and a pure
heart,
who
does not trust in an idol
or
swear by a false god.
But how can the mere presence of God exude such a demand for
transformation? The relationship between Yahweh and Israel serves as an
illustration. The Israelites, the people of God, were chosen to be the
recipients of God’s blessing, provision and protection, but such things came
with a costly price. The Israelites, being in relation with the holy God,
needed to be shaped, molded, and transformed like clay pots (Jer 18–19) into
the people that reflect the holiness and glory of God. Simply put, they are to
be holy, for their God is holy (Lev 11:44; 19:2; 1 Pet 1:16). The more God drew
himself closer to Israel, the more they needed to conform to his image; the
more God revealed himself to them, the more they had to be redeemed from their
previous worldviews and mindset; the more God gave his laws, the more they had
to abandon their former lifestyle; the more God lavished his love on them, the
more they were asked to reciprocate; the more God manifested himself in their
midst, the more the demands added. When God was not in their midst they were
free to think and act according to their own wishes, but as soon as God came
into their lives, they had to live according to the transformation that God
requires from them.
A more simple analogy from mundane human experience is that
married people are not as free as when they were single. When two strangers
meet, they have no demanding influence on one another’s lifestyle. But the
moment these two strangers enter a relationship, each will have to realize that
if the relationship is to endure, they need to conform their lifestyle
according to one another’s likes and dislikes. When they get married, they will
realize that they have to give up many things which they previously enjoyed in
their uncommitted life. The more two persons draw themselves close to one
another, the more the demands for transformation is felt.
This is problematic for us, self-centered human beings, for
two reasons. Firstly, we are greedy
and parsimonious beasts. Greed and thriftiness are twin brothers. We want to
receive (greed) but we hate to give (parsimony). We want to enter God’s
presence because we are aware that it is the place of healing, reinvigoration,
and blessing––things that we can acquire––but seldom, if not never, do we think
of coming before God in order to be transformed or in order that God’s will is
done in our lives. The ironic reality is that our desire to be with God, as
long as we only wish to be there for the goodies, is actually a symptom of our own
unredeemed selfishness. Let’s face it: we want a gift with no strings attached;
we want a presence that leaves us alone. Unfortunately, God’s presence is not
just a giving presence, but a receiving presence. The more God draws himself to
us, the more we become aware of the aspects of our lives that need to be
changed or strengthened or simply given up.
Secondly, we are
rebellious creatures. The more God imposes himself on us, the more we tend to
erect our defense barriers; the more God wishes to conquer the citadel of our
heart and soul, the more we erect barricades; the more God demands
transformation from us, the more we entrench ourselves and create imaginative
grounds not to comply; the more God draws himself to us, the more we draw the
boundary lines; the more God dwells us (1 Cor 6:19–20), the more we cherish the
word “privacy”; the more God stretches his arms to embrace us, the more we
raise our fists against him; the more he seeks us, the more we run and hide
from him. It is in the presence of God that human sinfulness and pride manifests
itself. It is because God’s presence demands transformation that it is
repulsive.
Do you still want to be in the presence of God? Do you still
want to pray, Maranatha! Come, Lord
Jesus!? Do you still want to invite the Holy Spirit in your prayers?
CONCLUSIONS
The presence of God is like eating a double-tasted candy: it
is both bitter and sweet. Sinners hide from God because of the guilt and shame
of their sins. God’s mere presence is an act of judgment for them. But it is
better to come now to God, swallowing our empty-founded pride, while there is
yet time. Today, we hide from God’s judging presence; in the last days, the
Lord will cast us from his presence (Jer 15:1; 52:3). Our face-to-face
encounter with God is inevitable anyway, for no matter how we avoid him, he
will one day summon all nations before him (Rev 10:11). When the day of the
Lord comes, people in his presence will beg for deliverance, but to no avail
(Rev 6:16). In fact, the ironic consequence for avoiding his saving, judging and
transforming presence today is that he too will banish us from his
presence––this is what we call death––thanatos––which essentially means “separation.” Paul
encapsulates it: “They will be punished with everlasting
destruction and shut out from the presence of the Lord and from the majesty of
his power” (2 Thess 1:9). Therefore, it is better to come to him now,
before he hides his face (Isa 59:2; Ezek 39:29).
We
are now invited to come to the presence of God to both be saved and
transformed, and there is no better way to enact our coming to God than in the
celebration of the Eucharist. As we partake of the body and blood of Christ,
broken and shed for us, remember as well that we are also baptized in his
suffering and death (Rom 6:1–14; 1 Pet 4:13).