Exodus 19:18–19

8 Mount Sinai was all in smoke because the Lord came down upon it in fire. Its smoke went up like the smoke of a stove. And the whole mountain shook. 19 The sound of the horn became louder and louder. Moses spoke, and God answered him with thunder.

Picture it. The mountain trembling. The earth shaking beneath your feet. Smoke billowing upward like a furnace consuming everything. Thunder crashing from heaven. Fire descending. The very presence of God so overwhelming, so terrifying, so absolutely consuming that the entire nation of Israel stood at a distance, unable to approach. This was not a gentle encounter. This was not a comfortable meeting. This was the manifestation of raw, infinite, terrifying holiness. This was God revealing Himself in such power and majesty that the people trembled in fear. And here’s what we must understand: This is the same God we serve today. Not a softened version. Not a domesticated deity who has mellowed with age. The God who descended on Mount Sinai in fire and thunder is the God who sits on His throne this very moment. The God whose presence caused the mountain to quake is the God who knows every thought you think. The God whose holiness was so overwhelming that the people begged Moses not to let Him even speak to them is the God before whom you will stand and give account. We have forgotten this. We have allowed our minds to reshape our understanding of God into something manageable, something comfortable. But the God of Mount Sinai cannot be domesticated. He is the Lord of thunder, fire and power. When was the last time you encountered the fear of the Lord? When was the last time you trembled before His holiness? This is a question that nobody really asks anymore. I don’t mean for you to fear for your salvation. Nor to be anxious about whether God loves you. But do you genuinely fear God? The kind of fear that makes you tremble, that sobers you, that reminds you that you are standing before the Almighty. It seems to me that our current church culture has repackaged God into something manageable. God is our buddy. God is our “homeboy”. God is the “bid guy” upstairs that just wants us to be happy. We’ve turned the infinite, holy, terrifying God of Scripture into a cosmic friend who exists to affirm our choices and validate our feelings.

But this is not the God of the Bible. This is an idol we’ve constructed in our own image. The God of Scripture is terrible and awesome. The God of Scripture is holy beyond our comprehension. The God of Scripture is so powerful that when people encounter Him, they fall on their faces in terror. When Isaiah saw the Lord high and lifted up, he cried out, “Woe is me, I am ruined!” When John saw the risen Jesus, he fell at His feet as though dead. These were not people who felt comfortable and affirmed. These were people who encountered the holiness of God and were undone by it. And Scripture tells us that this fear—this awe, this reverence, this trembling recognition of God’s majesty—is where wisdom begins. Proverbs 9:10 states a principle that runs throughout Scripture: “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” The beginning. The foundation. The starting point. This is not fear in the sense of terror that paralyzes you. This is fear in the sense of reverence—a deep, profound respect for God’s holiness, power, and authority. It’s the recognition that God is God and you are not. It’s the acknowledgment that God is infinitely greater than you. It’s the understanding that your life is held in His hands and that He will judge all things. When you truly fear the Lord, everything else comes into proper perspective. Your pride diminishes. Your arrogance evaporates. Your certainty about your own righteousness crumbles. You see yourself clearly—not as the center of the universe, but as a creature standing before the Creator. The person who fears the Lord understands that their choices have consequences. The person who fears the Lord takes sin seriously. The person who fears the Lord recognizes that they will give account for every word, every deed, every thought. This fear produces a kind of sobriety. A kind of seriousness about life. A kind of intentionality about how you live.

But tragically, many in the church has lost this fear. We have lost the reverence. We have lost the awe. We have lost the trembling recognition of the Almighty. The Ancient of Days. And the consequences are everywhere. Look at the trajectory of a life lived without the fear of God. It begins with small compromises. A little dishonesty. A little lust. A little pride. Nothing serious. Nothing that requires real repentance. But without the fear of God to restrain you, without the reverence to remind you of His holiness, without the awe to keep you humble—those small compromises become larger ones. That little dishonesty becomes systematic deception. That casual lust becomes addiction. That subtle pride becomes arrogance. And before long, you’re living a life that bears no resemblance to what you once claimed to believe. You’re making choices you never thought you’d make. You’re becoming someone you never thought you’d become. This is what happens when you lose the fear of the Lord. Wisdom departs and foolishness takes its place. And life begins its slow descent into destruction. What might change in your life if you allowed the fear and reverence of the Lord guide your choices? This is not a call to anxiety. This is a call to sanity. This is a call to see reality clearly. This is a call to recover the proper perspective that comes from understanding who God is and who you are in relation to Him. Here’s what’s remarkable: when you recover the fear of the Lord, wisdom follows. Not as something you have to earn or achieve. But as a natural consequence of seeing things rightly. When you fear God, you understand that your reputation doesn’t matter as much as your character. So you pursue integrity even when no one is watching. When you fear God, you understand that temporary pleasure isn’t worth eternal consequence. So you restrain your desires and pursue what honors Him. When you fear God, you understand that your words have power. So you speak carefully, truthfully, kindly. When you fear God, you understand that your time is limited and precious. So you invest it in what matters eternally rather than what merely entertains temporarily. When you fear God, you understand that you will give account. So you live intentionally, seriously, reverently. This is the wisdom that flows from the fear of the Lord. Not a grim, joyless existence, but a life marked by clarity, purpose, and peace. A life where you’re not constantly second-guessing yourself or regretting your choices. A life where you’re moving in the direction God has called you, not constantly fighting against His will.

This week, I invite you to do something contemplative. Find a quiet place. Sit alone. And allow yourself to genuinely consider: Do I fear the Lord? Not in an anxious way. But genuinely: Do I recognize His holiness? Do I understand His power? Do I tremble before His majesty? Do I take seriously the reality that I will stand before Him and give account? If the answer is no—if you’ve lost that reverence, if you’ve grown too comfortable, if you’ve forgotten the fear of the Lord—then repent. Return to it. Let the Spirit awaken in you again the awe and reverence that should characterize every believer’s relationship with God. Because the fear of the Lord is not the enemy of joy. The fear of the Lord is the foundation of all true wisdom, all genuine peace, all lasting joy. At Mount Sinai, God’s presence was so overwhelming that the people could not draw near. But through Jesus Christ, our faithful mediator, we now have access to the Father. Yet this access demands reverence. When you approach God, you must stand in awe of Him. Worship Him with everything you have. Fear Him. Let that fear of God penetrate your mind and transform how you live—so that you become a man or woman marked by wisdom, guided at every turn by the fear of the Lord.

Yours in Christ, 

Pastor John