
Rowl-rowl-rowl-rowl.
Uh-oh. I know exactly what that sound means. I’ll give it one more try.
Click.
Yep, I knew it. Battery’s dead. “Battery’s dead; I’m going to get a new one.”
“How do you know it’s the battery?”
It’s usually the battery. Life in the Sunshine State means your car will need a new battery every three years. It works fine one day, and it’s DOA the next.
Has it really been three years already? I rummaged through the glove box. Yes! I knew I saved the receipt. It’s a little faded, but I can still read it. It was a three-year battery. Of course, the three-year replacement warranty ran out last week.
The good news? The car was parked in my driveway, right next to my other car, well within jumper cable distance. I opened the hoods of both cars grabbed my jumper cables and got to work. I’ve done this lots of times, but I paused and decided to glance at the owner’s manual. Which car do I hook up first? On which car do I clamp onto the engine bracket? I just wanted to be sure. I have a lot of respect for that little black box I trust to start the car each morning.
That morning I had just read about God’s presence on Mount Sinai while Moses and Israel camped nearby. They were told to keep their distance. Don’t touch. Don’t even get near. I thought to myself, “I probably fear this small black battery in my car than I fear God.”
I’ll bet that’s true for most folks. We have little fear of God. He’s a friend. Compassionate. Merciful. Slow to anger. Abounding in steadfast love.
All of that is true. But God is also holy. Isaiah took that for granted until he found himself in God’s presence (read Isaiah 6). Then he feared for his life. After that, he got a very clear view of God’s mercy.
The holiness of God not only reveals the depth of our sinfulness, but also the depth of grace. We need both to grasp how high and wide and deep and long is the love of God.





