"FEAR GOD": How can we LOVE a God we FEAR?
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This is the video’s transcript, lightly formatted. Tap a time to jump to that moment.
The morning air was still cool when Moses spotted it. A bush ablaze with fire, yet strangely unconssumed by the flames. He had been tending his father-in-law's sheep for decades in these wilderness hills, and he'd seen many strange things, but nothing like this. His curiosity drew him closer. "I must turn aside to see this strange sight," he thought. "Why the bushes not burned?" As Moses approached, a voice called out from within the flames.
Moses, Moses, he stopped in his tracks. Here I am, he answered, his voice barely audible even to himself. Do not come any closer, the voice commanded. Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground. Moses quickly removed his sandals, his hands trembling slightly. The voice continued, "I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob." In that moment, Moses did something that perfectly captures what we're talking about today.
The Bible tells us he hid his face for he was afraid to look at God. Picture this. An 80-year-old man who had faced the court of Pharaoh, fled across the desert, and fought off bandits, now covered his face in fear before burning bush. What kind of fear was this? Was it terror? Was it dread? or was it something deeper?
This encounter at the burning bush reveals one of the most profound concepts in scripture. What it means to fear God? Moses wasn't cowering in panic like he'd seen a ghost. He was experiencing something far richer and more complex. Something the Hebrew language captures beautifully in the word ya. In our English Bibles, when we read that Moses was afraid to look at God or when we're told to fear the Lord, we're missing much of the depth that the original language conveys. The Hebrew word used here is ya, derived from the root y.
It's one of those wonderfully rich words that can't be translated with a single English equivalent. Year certainly includes an element of fear as we commonly understand it. That natural trembling when confronted with something overwhelmingly powerful. But it's so much more than that. It also encompasses reverence, awe, wonder, amazement, and yes, even worship. It's the feeling you get when you stand at the edge of the Grand Canyon for the first time, or when you look up at the stars on a clear night away from the city lights. It's that catch in your throat when you witness the birth of your child or experience an unexpected act of profound kindness.
Imagine for a moment that you're out on a small boat in the middle of the ocean. Suddenly, a massive whale breaches the water right beside you, towering above your tiny vessel before crashing back into the sea. What would you feel? You'd likely experience a complex mixture of fear, wonder, exhilaration, and profound respect for this magnificent creature. That combination of feelings, that's much closer to what the Bible means by era. When Moses hid his face at the burning bush, he wasn't just scared. He was encountering something so far beyond his understanding, so holy and transcendent that it evoked a profound response of reverent awe.
He recognized his smallalness before God's greatness. The book of Proverbs captures this beautifully when it says, "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom and knowledge of the Holy One is understanding." Proverbs 9:10. This isn't saying that being terrified of God will somehow make you wise. Is telling us that this reverent awe, this recognition of who God is and who we are in relation to him is the foundation of true wisdom. In the New Testament, we find similar depth in the Greek. When the Bible speaks about the fear of God in Greek, it primarily used the word phobos.
Now, I know what you're thinking. Isn't that where we get our word phobia from? And yeah, it is. But just like the Hebrew word yura, phobos has a range of meanings. It can mean terror or dread, but it also frequently conveys reverence, respect, and awe. Now, there's another interesting word used in the New Testament, theosoayiah, which literally means God respecting. Paul uses this in 1 Timothy chapter 2:10 when he describes women professing the fear of God.
This compound word beautifully captures the respect and reverence aspect of fearing God. Now, here's where it really gets interesting. In the New Testament, we see Jesus doing something revolutionary with this concept. In Mark 14:36, during his agonizing prayer in Gethsemane, Jesus addresses God as aba, father. Aba is an Aramaic word that's similar to our daddy or papa. It's an intimate, familiar term that young children would use with their fathers. This was shocking to Jewish ears in the first century.
It must have been to address the holy transcendent God of Israel, the one before whom Moses hid his face, the one whom Isaiah saw high and lifted up, causing him to cry out, "Woe is me." To address this go this God as daddy or papa. It was unprecedented. But Jesus wasn't diminishing the appropriate reverence for God. Instead, he was revealing something profound about God's character. That this awesome universe creating God also wants us to know him intimately as a loving father. And remarkably, Paul tells us in Romans 8:15 that we've received the spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, "Aba, Father."
We've been invited into the same intimate relationship with God that Jesus has. So, how do we hold these two truths together? How can we both fear God with appropriate reverence and yet approach him with the familiarity of a beloved child? The answer lies in understanding that true reverence and true intimacy are not opposites. They complement each other. Think about it this way. When my dad was alive, yes, my dad, I never called him father in conversation.
When I talked to him, it was always dad, but I would refer to him to other people as my father. He was a loving, kind man that I had the greatest respect and admiration for. And that's why even though I called him dad in conversation, it was yes sir or no sir when he asked me a question. The two are not mutually exclusive. You can have great affection and love for someone and also deeply respect them. It's the same with God. We don't have to choose between revering God and loving him and loving him intimately.
The beauty of the gospel is that through Jesus, we can do both. Now, let's look at what this meant for Moses after his burning bush encounter. Did his reverent fear paralyze him or drive him away from God? Not at all. It became the foundation for one of the most remarkable relationships with God described in scripture. The Bible tells us in Exodus 33:1 that the Lord spoke to Moses face to face as a man speaks to his friend. What began with Moses hiding his face in fear became a friendship so intimate that the conversations resembled two friends talking.
And the same pattern repeats throughout scripture. Isaiah's vision of God's holiness in chapter 6 begins with him crying out in fear because of his unworthiness. But that moment of reverent fear leads to purification and ultimately commissioning for service. The disciples fear when Jesus calms a storm in Mark 4 leads to greater faith in deeper relationship with him. But let's be honest, there is another kind of fear that the Bible mentions in relation to God. And it's important that we understand the difference. First John 4:18 tells us that there is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.
For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. This isn't contradicting the passages that encourage the fear of the Lord. It's addressing a different kind of fear, the dread of punishment that characterizes a slave's relationship with a harsh master. John is telling us that as we grow in our understanding of God's love, that kind of terrified fear has no place in our relationship with him. Medieval Jewish philosophers beautifully captured this distinction. Abraham bin Dau differentiated between what he called fear of harm like the fear of a snake bite or a king's punishment and fear of greatness which is respect for someone exalted and wonderful. Another philosopher Bahaya Iben Pakuda similarly distinguished between a lower fear of punishment and a higher fear of divine glory.
The Bible encourages the latter while the gospel frees us from the former. The reverent awe that acknowledges God's greatness draws us closer to him. The terrified dread that expects only punishment drives us away. One is the beginning of wisdom. The other is a barrier to relationship. So what does this mean for us today? How do we live out this proper fear of the Lord in our daily lives?
I want to suggest four practical steps, each one grounded in scripture. First, spend time regularly contemplating God's greatness. Psalm 19 tells us that the heavens declare the glory of God and the sky above proclaims his handiwork. Take time to look at the stars. Marvel at the complexity of the human body. Consider the vastness of the universe or the intricate design of a single cell. As you do, let yourself feel small.
Not in a way that diminishes your worth, but in a way that puts things in proper perspective. I remember hiking in the mountains outside Asheville once during a thunderstorm. As lightning flashed around me and thunder echoed through the valleys, I felt terrifyingly small. But strangely, there was also a peace in that moment. A recognition that the God who controlled these powerful forces also knew my name and held me in his hand. That's the kind of reverent awe that forms a foundation of wisdom. Second, practice living before God's face.
The Dutch theologian Abraham Kyper famously said, "There is not a square inch in the whole domain of our human existence over which Christ who is sovereign over all does not cry mine." Everything we do, our work, our relationships, our private thoughts, all happen in God's presence. The theologians call this cororam do living before the face of God. This doesn't mean walking around in constant anxiety that God is watching to catch you doing something wrong. It means recognizing that even your most secular activities are opportunities to honor him. Colossians 3:23 puts it this way. Whatever you do, work hardily as for the Lord and not for men.
Whether you're changing diapers, preparing a presentation, or having coffee with a friend, you're doing it in God's presence. and that can infuse even ordinary moments with extraordinary meaning. Third, allow proper reverence for God to reshape your values and priorities. Isaiah 8:13 instructs us to regard the Lord of hosts as holy. Let him be your fear and let him be your dread. When God occupies a central place of reverence in our lives, other things naturally fall into their proper place. Think about the things our culture tells us to fear.
economic insecurity, social rejection, illness, or aging. When we properly fear God, those other fears lose their grip on us. As Jesus put it in Matthew 10:28, "Do not fear those who kill the body, but cannot kill the soul. Rather, fear him who can destroy both body and soul." This isn't Jesus telling us to be terrified of God. It's him putting our fears in proper order. When we reverence God above all, we're freed from slavery to lesser fears.
Finally, let your reverence for God lead you into deeper intimacy. Remember Moses, whose initial fearful response at the burning bush blossomed into friendship with God, or Isaiah, whose vision of God's holiness led to willing service. The pattern throughout scripture is clear. Proper reverence doesn't keep us distant from God. It draws us closer to him.
Jesus modeled this perfectly. No one revered the father more than he did and no one was closer to the father than he was. His reverence didn't diminish his intimacy. It enhanced it and through him we're invited into the same kind of relationship. As Hebrews 4:16 encourages us, let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need. Let's go back to Moses for a moment. After his initial encounter with God at the burning bush, an encounter marked by reverent fear, Moses went on to speak with God face to face as a man speaks with his friend, like I said.
But later, he even made this bold request to God. Show me your glory. The man who once hid his face in fear now long to see more of God, not less. And that's the trajectory that the Bible envisions for us. Not moving from fear to to no fear, but allowing our reverent awe to deepen into loving intimacy. It's like a magnificent symphony where the reverence and the intimacy create a harmonious whole, each enhancing the other. Think about how this might change our approach to worship, to prayer, to reading scripture.
We come to God with appropriate reverence, acknowledging his transcendence, his holiness, his power, but also with the confident intimacy of a beloved child approaching a perfect father. We don't shuffle into his presence like a criminal before a judge. But neither do we sat saunter in casually as if approaching an equal. We come with both reverence and confidence, both awe and intimacy.
This balance transforms our spiritual lives. Our worship becomes both more majestic and more personal. Our prayers combine reverence with familiarity. Our engagement with scripture balances respect for God's word with an expectation that our father wants to speak to us through it. And perhaps most importantly, this understanding of the fear of the Lord transforms our understanding of the gospel itself.
The gospel isn't primarily about escaping punishment, though it does include that. It's about being reconciled to God, whom we should rightfully approach with reverent awe, being welcomed not as terrified subjects, but as beloved children. In 2 Corinthians 5:1 18- 19, Paul puts it this way. All this is from God who through Christ reconciled us to himself and gave us the ministry of reconciliation. That is in Christ, God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation. The gospel restores our relationship with the God before whom we stand in awe, transforming our fear of punishment into the reverential fear that is the beginning of wisdom. As we close, I want to return to that scene at the burning bush.
Moses with his face hidden, trembling before the voice from the flame. What happened next? God didn't rebuke Moses for his fear. He didn't say, "Stand up straight and look at me." Instead, he entrusted Moses with a mission to deliver his people from slavery. Moses reverent fear didn't disqualify him from service. It prepared him for it.
The same is true for us. When we approach God with appropriate reverence, acknowledging his greatness while accepting his invitation to intimate relationship, we position ourselves for both wisdom and service. Like Moses, we find that the God who inspires our awe also knows our name and has prepared good works for us to walk in. So let's embrace this beautiful paradox that we can both stand in awe before the creator of the universe and crawl into the lap of our heavenly father like beloved children. That we can both fear God and love him intimately. That the beginning of wisdom and the experience of perfect love are not opposites but companions on our spiritual journey. Let this be our prayer.
Father God, you are higher than our highest thoughts, greater than our greatest imaginations, holier than our holiest moments. We stand in awe of your power, your wisdom, your perfect justice. And yet, through Jesus, you've invited us to call you Aba. You've welcomed us not as terrified subjects, but as beloved children. Teach us what it means to properly fear you, not with the dread that expects punishment, but with the reverent awe that acknowledges your greatness. Let that holy fear be the beginning of wisdom in our lives. And let it lead us not away from you, but deeper into relationship with you, so that like Moses, we might know you face to face as friends.
In the name of Jesus, who showed us how to perfectly revere and intimately love you. Amen. [Music]
