The God who is actually there
The name proclaimed
High on the mountain, Moses is hidden in a cleft of the rock, a hand over him for shelter, because no one can see the full face of God and live. And then God passes by — and as He passes, He says His own name aloud. Not the terms a frightened man might have braced for, not a thundered list of demands or a tally of his failures. The LORD, the LORD, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness. Of everything He could have led with, He leads with mercy. Many of us carry a very different picture, assembled from a hard church or a harder life: God as the cold inspector, the one who is never satisfied, the keeper of an account always in the red. And when that picture finally cracks under the weight of some upheaval, it can feel like God Himself is dying. He is not. The cracking of a false face is the chance, at last, to hear the real One say His own name — and to discover that mercy was always written there first.
“The LORD! The LORD, a merciful and gracious God, slow to anger, and abundant in lovingkindness and truth.”
— The LORD, proclaiming his name — Exodus 34:6 (WEB)
“The LORD is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abundant in lovingkindness.”
Moses is wedged into a cleft of rock, and God Himself goes by, announcing aloud who He actually is, and the first words are not thunder but mercy: gracious, slow to anger, overflowing with steadfast love. Reorientation often arrives when a wrong picture of God finally cracks. The phase teaches you to stop guessing at His character from your wounds and to let Him tell you His own name, mercy first.
The god who fell apart in your upheaval may have been a distortion from the beginning — harsh, withholding, impossible to satisfy, pieced together from old wounds and worse teaching. Losing that figure feels like losing God Himself, but it is not. If so, then losing him is not the catastrophe it feels like. It is not the loss of God at all; it is the clearing away of a counterfeit so the true One can finally be seen. And the real One has not left you to guess at His character. He stood in the open, over the cleft of rock, and spoke His own name aloud: merciful and gracious, slow to anger, overflowing with steadfast love. Of everything He could have led with, He led with mercy.
Mercy was written there first. Let Him tell you who He is, rather than trusting the grim portrait you inherited from people who got Him wrong. You are not required to keep worshiping a God who was never there. The real One is kinder than the false one ever let you imagine, and He says so first, before anything else, with His own voice.
The Church has too often handed the world a warped picture of God, angry, stingy, a weapon for control, a divine inspector forever unsatisfied, and when that picture cracks under the strain of a cultural upheaval, many assume the faith itself has failed. Part of the whole Church's reorientation now is the recovery of His true name and the courage to proclaim it: merciful, gracious, slow to anger, abundant in faithful love, mercy spoken first. The renewals that have come down the centuries did not invent a kinder God; they cleared away the distortions and let Him announce Himself again. Get His character right, and the Church gives a watching world the actual God to come home to, rather than the counterfeit that drove so many away.
When a false image of God falls, God Himself does not fall with it. What cannot be shaken is the name He spoke over the rock with His own voice: merciful and gracious before all else, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love. The distortion can crumble. The God who is actually there, kind at the core, does not.
- Whose voice taught me what God is like, and how much of it matches the name He proclaimed for Himself?
- Where have I assumed God is harsh or impossible to please, when He calls Himself merciful and gracious first?
- What would it look like for me to let God define His own character, instead of trusting the picture I inherited?
Lord, the picture of You I carried for years may have been a distortion, and when it cracked I feared I had lost You. But You have told me Your own name: merciful and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness. Let that be the God I trust. Tear down the false image, and let me meet the real You, mercy first. Amen.