Throughout the Old Testament, we see a consistent pattern: God's glory is overwhelming, unapproachable, dangerous to sinful humanity. Yet this same God who required elaborate protocols, who veiled Himself in clouds and fire, chose to reveal Himself in the most unexpected way—as a helpless infant. The contrast is staggering: where earthly kings demand bows and formal dress codes, the King of Kings allowed dirty shepherds to simply walk in. This is the scandal and beauty of Christmas—God hiding His glory not to keep us away, but to draw us near. The Word became flesh and tabernacled among us so that we could finally approach without fear, touch without dying, and behold grace before judgment. This Advent season invites us to marvel at a King who loved us enough to make Himself small, vulnerable, and accessible.

Standing between what God has done and what God will do - that's where Moses found himself at the end of Deuteronomy, and that's where we find ourselves today.

Moses climbed Mount Nebo and saw the promised land spread before him. After 40 years of leading Israel through the wilderness, after the Red Sea crossing and the giving of the law, he could finally see it. But he couldn't enter it. This wasn't the ending we would have written. We wanted the triumphant parade, the victorious crossing, the credits rolling on a completed story.

But God was writing something bigger.

The tension you feel in this story is the same tension you feel in your life. Already forgiven, not yet made perfect. Already adopted, not yet home. Already redeemed, not yet restored. That ache in your bones that whispers "there must be more" isn't evidence that God has failed you. It's proof that God has promised you something bigger than this life can hold.

Have you ever arrived somewhere and realized you don't remember the drive? We've all experienced that autopilot mode on familiar roads, but what if we're doing the same thing spiritually? This exploration of Deuteronomy reveals a stunning truth: our greatest spiritual danger isn't dramatic rebellion, but quiet drift. Moses stands with Israel on the edge of the Promised Land and delivers three powerful speeches with one central command: remember. Remember what God has done, remember what God requires, and remember what God promises. The book structures itself around this urgent plea because forgetfulness is our default setting. We drink from wells we didn't dig, eat from vineyards we didn't plant, and live in cities we didn't build—yet we so easily forget the Provider.

The safest road to hell, as C.S. Lewis warned, is the gradual one—the gentle slope without signposts. We don't crash because of one catastrophic decision; we drift through a thousand small, unintentional ones. Today is the day to wake up, look back at God's faithfulness, and move forward with intentional worship rather than spiritual autopilot.

The Israelites stood at the edge of the Promised Land – exactly where God said He would lead them. Twelve spies went in and saw the same thing: a land flowing with milk and honey, just as promised. But ten came back focused on the giants, the fortified cities, the impossibilities. Only Caleb and Joshua said, "Let's go take what God has given us."

Same facts. Completely different stories.

Fear doesn't just see obstacles—it rewrites the narrative around them. It dresses up slavery as safety. It makes captivity look comfortable just because it's predictable. The Israelites actually started remembering Egypt fondly, conveniently forgetting the chains and whips, remembering only the routine.

But here's the truth: you can't walk in freedom while you're rebuilding Egypt in your head.

The story Israel failed to believe finds its fulfillment in Jesus. Where they doubted, He trusted. Where they complained, He obeyed. Where they turned back, He pressed on—all the way to the cross. He faced every fear we carry and trusted the Father's plan to the end.

The giants aren't our greatest threat. Unbelief fueled by fear is. And that's the giant Jesus came to slay.

The book of Leviticus isn't about keeping people out. It's about bringing people near.

When God moved into the camp of Israel, His presence became both their greatest gift and their greatest problem. Like a nuclear reactor that brings life-giving power but requires proper barriers, God's holiness demanded a way for sinful people to approach Him safely.

Leviticus is God saying, "I want you near me, but you have to come the safe way."

Every sacrifice, every ritual, every purity law pointed to one truth: the great reward for obedience isn't blessing or success. It's relationship with God Himself.

But here's the beautiful part: what took endless sacrifices in Leviticus was accomplished once for all by Jesus. The blood that had to be offered daily is replaced by the blood of the Lamb. The priests who stood continually at their service are replaced by the One who sat down because His work was finished.

What's the first thing you see when you open your eyes each morning? Your phone? Your to-do list? Your worries about the day ahead?

The Israelites organized their entire camp around one central reality: God's presence. When they stepped out of their tents each morning, the first thing they saw was the pillar of cloud or fire over the tabernacle. It was their first sight in the morning and their last at night.

God didn't just rescue Israel from slavery and send them on their way. He moved in. He dwelt among them. This wasn't a visit—it was residence. The same God who tabernacled with Israel has come to us in Jesus Christ. John 1:14 tells us "the Word became flesh and dwelt (literally 'tabernacled') among us." God doesn't ask us to meet Him halfway. He comes all the way down to us.

The question isn't whether God wants to be present in your life. The question is: have you organized your life around His presence? Is He at the center of your camp, or are you still sitting on the throne?

In our journey of faith, we often encounter tests that challenge our beliefs and character. Today, we explore the lives of Noah, Abraham, and Moses to understand how God uses trials to build our faith. Noah's story teaches us that faith means believing before seeing, as he built an ark without understanding what was to come. Abraham's journey shows us that faith involves obeying even when we don't understand, trusting God's promises despite delays and seemingly impossible situations. Moses' life reminds us that faith persists through prolonged pain and difficult choices. These biblical heroes demonstrate that true faith goes beyond explanations, embracing God's plan even when we can't see the full picture.

"You Christians are ridiculous and hypocritical! You use the laws from the Old Testament you want, but dismiss others when it's convenient." This charge is consistently lobbed at Christians, and without a clear response, Christians will be dismissed and ridiculed. But the truth is, if you stop at the OT laws, you've only read the beginning of the story. These laws were always pointing us to something greater, something that could do what these laws could not. How should Christians view these laws? How should we apply them -or- should we apply them at all? The answer, as always, lies in the person and work of Jesus. How did he fulfill and celebrate the law while moving us away from it? It's a technical answer, but it's a good one full of hope and grace.

Ever feel like you can't measure up to God's standards? You're not alone. This week's sermon revealed how the Ten Commandments are meant to be a mirror, not a checklist. They show us our need for grace, not our ability to earn it.

The good news? Where the law diagnoses, Jesus heals. Where Moses could only intercede, Christ fulfilled. From Sinai to Calvary, God's story isn't about our perfect obedience, but His perfect love.

When Israel stood at the edge of the Red Sea, they had their backs against the wall—water in front of them, Pharaoh’s army behind them, and no way out. In that moment of desperation, God revealed His power by making a way where there was no way. In this sermon from Exodus 15, Pastor Tony Walls shows us how desperation becomes the doorway to clarity, how God not only rescues but triumphs, and how the crossing of the Red Sea points us forward to the greater salvation we find in Christ. If you’ve ever felt trapped, hopeless, or desperate, this message is for you.