Exodus 33 is one of the most deeply intimate and stirring chapters in the story of Israel’s journey—and in our own walk with God. In it, we encounter a moment where everything seems to hang in the balance. The people have sinned grievously with the golden calf, and now we must face the consequences. But what makes this chapter powerful is not just the fallout of sin—it is the way it reveals God's heart and Moses’ passionate desire for God’s presence, not just His promises.
As the chapter opens, God tells Moses to leave Mount Sinai and head toward the Promised Land. The Lord says, “Depart, go up from here, you and the people that you have brought up out of the land of Egypt.” He reaffirms His promise to give the land to Abraham’s descendants and to drive out the nations before them. At first glance, this might sound reassuring. The journey would continue. The land would still be theirs. But there is one devastating change: God says, “I will not go up among you.” His angel would lead the way, but His own presence would not go with us, lest He consume us because of our stubbornness.
This is where the weight of sin begins to sink in. It’s not just about losing blessings or facing hardship—it’s the loss of God’s nearness. When the people hear these words, they mourn. They take off their ornaments, outwardly expressing the inward sorrow they feel. For us, this should be a sobering reminder that sin doesn’t just bring judgment—it breaks relationship. We may still have success or movement, but without God’s presence, what does it really amount to?
At this point, Moses does something remarkable. He sets up a tent outside the camp called the Tent of Meeting. This is where he meets with God face to face, as one speaks with a friend. Even before the Tabernacle is completed, we see here a sacred space where deep intimacy with God is possible. And we’re reminded that even in times of communal failure, we can still draw near to God individually. We can still seek Him, hear Him, and speak honestly from the heart.
The people would watch Moses go to the tent, and they would rise and worship at the entrances of their own tents. In a way, we see a glimmer of repentance beginning to form. There’s reverence, a desire to reconnect with the God they had offended. But it is Moses’ conversation with God that becomes the heart of this chapter. Here, Moses pleads not just for promises or protection—he pleads for presence.
“You have said, ‘I know you by name, and you have also found favor in my sight.’ Now therefore, if I have found favor in your sight, please show me now your way, that I may know you.” Moses doesn’t want just direction—he wants connection. And more than that, he wants assurance that God Himself will be with us. He says, “If your presence doesn’t go with us, don’t carry us up from here.” What good is the land flowing with milk and honey if we have to go there alone? What defines us as God’s people is not just where we’re going—it’s who goes with us.
This is a moment that invites us to ask ourselves what we’re truly longing for. Do we want God’s gifts, or do we want God Himself? Are we satisfied with angels, plans, and open doors—or do we crave the very presence of the One who loves us, corrects us, and calls us His own?
And in response to Moses’ heartfelt plea, God relents. He says, “My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.” What a comfort that is. It reminds us that God is not distant or unmoved. When we seek Him with sincerity, when we turn from our idols and ask to walk closely with Him again, He draws near.
But Moses isn’t done. He goes further: “Please show me your glory.” He doesn’t just want guidance or even presence—he wants to see God in His fullness, to know Him more deeply. This yearning captures what it means to truly love God—not merely to serve or obey Him, but to hunger for a clearer view of His character and beauty. In response, God agrees to let His goodness pass before Moses and declares, “I will be gracious to whom I will be gracious, and will show mercy on whom I will show mercy.” However, He tells Moses that no one can see His face and live. Instead, God places Moses in the cleft of a rock, covering him with His hand until He passes by.
This exchange teaches us something profound. God’s glory is so holy, so overwhelmingly pure, that we cannot fully grasp it in our mortal state. And yet, He makes a way for us to glimpse it. He covers us, shelters us, and reveals just enough for us to know Him, worship Him, and trust Him. In that cleft of the rock, we see a picture of God’s mercy—of how He shields us even as He reveals Himself to us.
Exodus 33 calls us back to the heart of what matters most. Not the destination, not the signs and wonders, but God Himself. As we walk through life, whether in seasons of wilderness or abundance, let us echo Moses’ cry: “If Your presence doesn’t go with us, don’t send us.” Let us be people who mourn the absence of God and rejoice in the smallest glimpse of His glory.
This chapter reminds us that repentance opens the door to renewed intimacy, and that when we seek God with all our heart, He meets us—even in the tent, even in the cleft of the rock. Like Moses, may we desire not only what God can do for us, but who He is to us. And may we, too, walk as friends of God—guided not just by His plans, but by His presence.