The God Who Comes Down

Speaker A: 00:00:05

Thomas Aquinas would later use this concept as one of his proofs for the existence of God. He is the uncaused cause. But this isn't just an abstract philosophical statement about the nature of God. This is a declaration of personal closeness.

The Deep Waters Way: where scripture, theology, and transformation meet.

Welcome once again to The Deep Waters Way. I'm Ray Cooper, and I want to thank you for joining me today. Last week, we began a new series called What's in a Name? by looking at the Tower of Babel and humanity's attempt to make a name for itself. With that episode, we looked at the people's failed attempt to become great by building a tower to heaven to force a meeting with God. We saw as well that God responded by coming down and intervening in human history. Today, we're looking at the name behind that thwarting of human ambition. We're going to be talking about Yahweh, the covenant name of God and the God who comes down.

Before we get into that though, take a moment wherever you're listening and subscribe or follow the show. That way, you'll never miss an episode. Also, if you would take a moment and leave a review on Apple Podcast or PodChaser, that brief moment you take helps make it easier for new listeners to find the show, and it helps us to grow.

Now, grab a cup of coffee or hot tea and settle in. It's time to slip the moorings and head for the deep waters.

What if all our striving to reach God turned out to be in vain? What if making a name for ourselves ultimately turned out to be unneeded?

What if instead of us climbing up to God, God stepped down to us? That is exactly what we see not just in Genesis 11 with the Tower of Babel narrative, but really in all of scripture from Genesis to Revelation; the whole Bible is the story of God stepping down from heaven and breaking into human history.

Now, often we focus on the incarnation of Jesus Christ and the sending of the Holy Spirit as the most prominent examples of that, but really it begins in Genesis where God doesn't just break into human history, he sets it all into motion.

Genesis 1:1 gives us the biblical creation story. Throughout the chapter, God is simply identified in English translations as God. This is a translation of the Hebrew word Elohim. And that word Elohim is the plural of the Hebrew word El and simply means God or even gods. One of the interesting things about Elohim is the fact that it is a plural word and yet sometimes it takes on a singular verb, making it singular. This isn't that unusual to us—or it shouldn't be anyway—because we do the same thing in English. We have a number of words that use the same word for the singular and the plural with only the verb making the difference.

Why that's important here though is simple. Whenever the Hebrew scriptures pair Elohim with the singular verb, they point specifically to the singular majestic author of creation and God of Israel. And this is one of the primary differences we see between the biblical creation story and other ancient near east or Mesopotamian creation stories, where those stories outside the Bible involve multiple gods and violence and even chaos with humanity being a byproduct of creation or even just an afterthought. Scripture gives us something different. Genesis presents one God acting of his own initiative to bring order out of chaos and to intentionally create humanity not through violence but simply by speaking.

This is the transcendent God who is far above and beyond us. He exists before and outside of creation. He is not bound by it nor is he ruled by it. Rather, he sets it all in motion, sets the principles by which it operates, and stands in holy otherness from what he has created.

Genesis 2 then begins to describe a new picture. It's still creation, but the difference here is so stark that there are scholars who treat Genesis 1 and 2 as separate competing creation stories. I don't think that's at all what's going on here. And there are other scholars who push back against that idea, saying that while Genesis 1 is creation at a macro scale, Genesis 2 is creation at a micro scale. And others still look at Genesis 2 and see it as a poetic parallel to Genesis 1.

Either way, there is one thing that Genesis 2 does very clearly: It gives us a different picture of God. Not a different God, mind you, just a different way of looking at him, a different way of seeing him. Genesis 1 focuses on God's transcendence, his distinctness. Genesis 2, however, presents God as immanent—that is, close and intimate.

Throughout Genesis 2, God is called by the name Yahweh Elohim, usually translated as the Lord God. And yes, that is a representation of his supremacy, his power and might. And yet at the same time, we're not presented here with a God detached from creation. Instead, scripture shows us a God with dirt under his fingernails. He forms man out of mud and breathes life into him. He walks with his creation in the cool of the evening. And when no suitable helper is found, He performs surgery, removing part of Adam and using it to fashion Eve.

This does not feel like the remote cosmic architect of Genesis 1. And it is most certainly not the capricious, almost superhuman-like pagan gods. And yet, by using the combined name Yahweh Elohim, it is made clear that this is indeed the same God seen in Genesis 1:1. Indeed, this is the sovereign creator of all that exists, drawing near to and interacting with his creation on a personal intimate level. Right from the start, the Bible presents a God whose mere description holds a tension not evident in any other being. He is both holy (with a W) and holy, other, and distinct. Yet, he has also drawn near and revealed himself to his creation on intimate terms.

Now, you might be thinking, "I've read my English Bible for years and I've never seen the word Yahweh." That's because most English translators have chosen to render it as Lord. But in order to distinguish it from Lord used to translate Adonai, they chose to use all capital letters. So, whenever you see LORD in all caps in your Bible, know that the original Hebrew behind it is God's personal covenant name, Yahweh.

Genesis 3 continues the same trend we see in Genesis 2 with the narrator consistently referring to God as Yahweh Elohim. But before we reach that point, we have an exchange between a being described simply as the serpent and Eve. In that conversation, as in chapter 1, God is referred to simply as Elohim, God. It's clear the serpent in tempting Eve distances God, making him remote and presenting him as aloof and unconcerned with his creation. Eve, doing as we often do, mirrors back the serpent's language and keeps God distant.

But when the narrator begins to describe God coming into the garden to walk with Adam, He reverts back to Yahweh Elohim, the Lord God. The God who didn't just create with words, but worked with his own hands. The one who supplied his own breath. The one who drew near and walked with and is now searching for his creation. It is this God who steps down that pronounces judgment upon the serpent, Adam, and Eve. And it is this same God who draws near that gives us the first hint of a redemptive plan.

Chapter 4 then continues the theme of speaking of the God who draws near. But now he's simply referred to as Yahweh. And while that full name and title Yahweh Elohim continues to show up in scripture, the point has been made: Yahweh, the God who draws near, the God who makes covenants with people is also the God who stands above all creation, the God who spoke and brought all things into existence.

That progression in Genesis begins to paint a picture of who God is. But let's take a moment and look just a little closer at the name itself. Yahweh comes from what scholars call the tetragrammaton, a Greek word that simply means "four letters."

In ancient Hebrew, God's personal name was written using four consonants corresponding to our English letters Y, H, W, H. Originally, written Hebrew contained no vowels. And centuries later, when scribes began adding vowel markings to the biblical text, they inserted the vowel sounds from the Hebrew word Adonai—again, just a generic word meaning Lord. They did this out of extreme reverence in order to avoid misusing God's holy name and to remind the reader to speak Adonai or simply Hashem (which means "the name") whenever they reached those four sacred letters.

Because of that tradition, we don't know with 100% certainty how God's name was originally pronounced. However, biblical scholars broadly agree that Yahweh is the most accurate pronunciation, or at least close enough for us to understand the profound revelation behind it. And that revelation is found in the next bit of scripture that we're going to look at.

After Moses flees Egypt, he spends 40 years in the wilderness tending sheep for Jethro, also known as Reuel, his father-in-law. Jethro is presented to us as a priest of Midian, serving the same supreme god worshiped by Abraham: God Most High or El Elyon. Now, we're going to spend time unpacking that name next week, but for now, know that God had preserved knowledge and worship of himself among these fellow descendants of Abraham.

In Exodus 3, we're told that Moses led the sheep of his father-in-law to the far side of the desert to Mount Horeb, the mountain of God. And while there, verse 2 says that the angel of the Lord appeared in a flame of fire out of a bush and that the bush while burning was not consumed. So Moses did what any curious prince turned shepherd would do: He went to investigate.

And as Moses turns aside to get a closer look at this strange phenomenon, God begins to speak to him out of the bush. Now there's a lot to unpack here in what God says and, honestly, it's worthy of its own episode. For now though, I just want to focus on a small part of what God says. And it's in this small part that God reveals not just his name, but the significance it carries.

In Exodus 3:13-15, this is what we read: Then Moses said to God, "If I come to the people of Israel and say to them, the God of your fathers has sent me to you, and they ask me, 'What is his name?' What shall I say to them?" God said to Moses, "I AM WHO I AM." And he said, "Say this to the people of Israel: 'I AM has sent me to you.'" God also said to Moses, "Say this to the people of Israel: 'The LORD, the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob, has sent me to you. This is my name forever, and thus I am to be remembered throughout all generations.'"

Notice what Moses is asking. Who is this God? Yes, he has identified himself as the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, but in Egypt, every god had a name he or she was known by—a name that spoke of who they were, what their domain was, what they controlled, and by which they could be controlled or manipulated. Moses wants to know who this is. He wants to be able to tell the people something about this God.

And God delivers, but he does so in a way that exceeds all of Moses's concepts about God. And he does so in a way that destroys all attempts to categorize and contain him. He says, "I AM THAT I AM." Three Hebrew words—a name rooted in the verb "to be." A name that says "I don't belong to a domain." A name that says "I am the self-existent one; I owe my being to no one and no thing." Thomas Aquinas would later use this concept as one of his proofs for the existence of God: He is the uncaused cause.

But this isn't just an abstract philosophical statement about the nature of God. This is a declaration of personal closeness. This becomes even more clear in verse 15 as God translates this statement of being into a covenantal name. He tells Moses to say simply, "Yahweh, I AM has sent me."

And packed into that name is centuries of meaning. And it all comes together right here in Exodus 3. Almost every name of God that we're going to look at in this series can be seen in God's conversation with Moses right here in this chapter at the burning bush. He says he has seen the plight of his people. He promises to deliver and to be with them. He says he will show his mighty hand to Pharaoh and that he will heal the people's hurt from centuries of oppression. In short, with that one simple phrase, and the name that accompanies it, God promises to be all that Israel needs in the midst of their oppression, in their wilderness wanderings, in their conquest of Canaan, and for all time to come.

He even says in Exodus 6:3 that while he had not made himself known to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob as Yahweh, they had known him as El Shaddai, the mighty God. This is another name that we're going to be looking at later in this series, but it tells us exactly what the people were expecting: a God who was more than able to be all they needed him to be. And while Abraham might possibly have known the word Yahweh, God here promises to reveal his character through the action of drawing near to his people and being the one behind that name.

But you might ask: if the patriarchs didn't know God as Yahweh, how do we see that name so often throughout Genesis? When Moses began to compose the Pentateuch—the first five books of the Bible—he used the name Yahweh retroactively. He did this to show the people that the God who brought creation into existence and spoke with Abraham and saw Hagar and provided for his people is the same God acting for them now.

And while not an exact match, it is in many ways the same kind of shift that we see in Jacob toward God. For most of his life, Jacob referred to God as "the God of my fathers." After his encounter with the angel of the Lord and the changing of his name to Israel at Peniel, everything else changed. Jacob from then on referred to God as "my God."

That encounter made the relationship personal. And that is the same thing Moses is trying to make clear in Genesis. He has heard their cry; he has seen their affliction and oppression; and now, exactly when the time is right, he has chosen to act. And that brings up something we need to at least acknowledge: God doesn't always act immediately. And we may never understand why. And he doesn't always act the way we think he should, but he always acts in the right time in the right way to fulfill his plans and covenant promises.

Now, some might say that discrepancy makes him a monster. But God makes it clear: He hears, He sees, and he acts, and he is always faithful to his promises. He had told Abraham long before this moment that this would happen, and he had promised Abraham he would deliver his people. It's part of God's covenant promise to Abraham to bless the whole world through him. And now the same God who stepped down into the garden he had planted and formed mud into a man and breathed life into him is fulfilling the promise he had made centuries earlier to Abraham.

All of that also means that despite whatever centuries of Egyptian theology had taught the Israelites, God cannot be manipulated, coerced, or controlled. We discussed this briefly in the last episode, but it bears repeating here because, you see, that's exactly what Pharaoh expected of Moses—that he could somehow contain or constrain this God he was proclaiming.

But I think it also offers a glimpse into why God allowed the pronunciation of his name to fade away. If you can't pronounce it, you can't try to use it as a talisman, fetish, or spell to control God or gain what you desire. Yes, Yahweh is a sacred personal name. But it is a covenant name—an intimate relational name—and it is not to be misused or abused. When we enter into relationship with God, we take his name upon ourselves, and that means that we become representatives of his name; and how we carry ourselves reflects on him.

But it also means we shouldn't get too hung up on how we pronounce the name or even thinking we always need to use Yahweh. If you prefer The Lord, use that. The same goes for God. We sometimes even see people getting hung up on whether or not we should use Jesus or Yeshua. And sometimes we even get hung up on Jehovah, which by the way is just the tetragrammaton with the Adonai vowels brought to us in English by way of Latin and German.

My point is this: All of these are translations of God's name and they are all valid ways of referring to him. There's no power in the name itself; it's just a collection of letters and sounds. The power is found in the one the name refers to. He is the one we have a relationship with, and we only have it because he has stepped down to us and revealed himself to us and acted on our behalf.

In the last episode, we talked about the futility of trying to make a name for ourselves. And at the beginning of this episode, I asked: "What if we didn't have to do that?" I hope you know that isn't just a rhetorical question. It is a question based in the character and existence of the one behind the name, the God who has drawn near: Yahweh, the Lord.

He is who he is and he is wherever he chooses to be, which means he can meet you wherever you are and be everything you need him to be. The only real question you need to ask is: will you trust the one who has revealed himself this way?

Thank you for joining me again today. I hope that you have found value in this episode. If you have, please share it with somebody you think needs to hear it. Now, it's time to flip the moorings and head for the deep waters.

The Deep Waters Way: where scripture, theology, and transformation meet.