The occasion of this fiery appearance was when God gave Israel the Ten Commandments. How could Israel think of drawing near to a God whose very presence was a consuming fire? All that was implied in this was foreboding and forbidding. Why? Because from the very beginning of the giving of the law, God would impress man with the solemn fact that, on the basis of law-keeping, man could hope for no favorable relationship with God. Men may boast of their good works and their supposed righteousness in keeping the law, but let them dare to approach God in the strength of this and they will find the fierce heat of a consuming fire—the unmitigated judgment of a God of absolute holiness.

For centuries, Israel remained under law and proved in experience the unyielding truth of this. At the end of the Old Testament, they found themselves far from God and in desperate need of something far better than the law in which they boasted.

Marvelous then is the contrast of the New Testament relation of the great God of glory. No longer do we see a consuming fire on the mountaintop, but this same God comes near in lowly grace: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we beheld His glory, the glory as of the only begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth” (Jn. 1:14).

Not the law, but only the great grace of His heart could have brought Him down. Nor could He have come apart from the express purpose of offering Himself in sacrifice on Calvary to bear the sins of those who confessed themselves guilty and hopeless under the law. As “the Word,” He is the very expression of all the thoughts of God, the One who Himself is God over all. He “became flesh,” a true Man, so accessible, so gracious, so faithful, and worthy of eternal adoration.