Sermon transcript:
Do you remember learning to ride a bike? The first time the training wheels came off? You were sure of yourself. You had seen others do it, and it looked effortless. So, when Mom or Dad offered to hold on, you refused, insulted that you weren’t being given the respect afforded to someone of your level of skill and maturity. You set off alone, but without the training wheels or a parent’s guiding hand, your lack of experience quickly became apparent. The handlebars jerked from side to side, and your knees met the unforgiving ground.
After the wounds had been cleaned and the tears wiped away, eventually you were ready to try again. What made it possible was knowing Mom or Dad would be beside you, holding on, perhaps letting go at times, but always nearby. As you set off, you looked up nervously, asking with your eyes, “Are you with me?” And the answer came: “I’m right here.”
“Are you with me?” It’s a question Moses asks of God, and one people of faith have been asking ever since. This is Moses at his most uncertain and most overwhelmed by responsibility: he has led the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt and through the wilderness to Mount Sinai, but the people have turned away from God. Just before the passage we just heard, they built a golden calf, an idol, to worship. Now God has told Moses it is time to move toward the promised land. Moses isn’t sure he can get back on that bike. Moses is worried. Are the people ready? Is he? He needs to know God will be there.
“If your presence will not go, do not carry us up from here,” Moses pleads. “For how shall it be known that I have found favour in your sight, I and your people, unless you go with us?” (Exodus 33:15–16)
Moses is insistent and persistent: “Are you with me, God? Because if you’re not, we have no business going anywhere.”
It’s a question people of faith have been asking forever. We proclaim a God of love in worship, then we step into a world that can make that claim seem foolish. God, are you with us? We’re not so sure anymore. And if those of us who are privileged ask that question, imagine how urgently it is asked by people fleeing war and persecution, people who don’t know where they or their children will sleep, and young mothers facing pregnancy completely alone. How do we know God is with us?
God’s answer to Moses is revealing. God does not offer complete certainty. “You cannot see my face,” God says, “for no one shall see me and live” (Exodus 33:20). Instead, God promises Moses a glimpse of the divine presence as it passes by. It may not be everything Moses hoped for, but it is enough to send him back to his people. Perhaps that’s the point. Moses, go back to your people. Keep going. I wonder if something we can take away from this story is that the answer to the question, “God are you with us?” is “I am with you when you are with others.” You’ll know my presence in community.
At Parkminster, the work of the Outreach Committee, your donations, and your acts of care are ways we answer the question, “God, are you with us?” Today, Reception House is sharing its vision for a housing initiative that needs our support. This evening, we’ll gather for a fundraiser benefiting Reception House and Marillac Place, which supports young pregnant women and their children. These are more than opportunities to raise money. They are invitations to welcome the stranger, care for the vulnerable, and build a community where everyone can live with dignity.
“Are you with me?” We ask this when the way ahead is uncertain and the needs seem overwhelming. We may not receive a flash of light or a voice from heaven. But perhaps we glimpse God’s goodness when a refugee family finds a place to call home, when a young mother receives support, or when a community chooses generosity over indifference. God is with us when we are with others.
We may not see the whole road ahead. But we can take the next step together, trusting God’s promise to Moses: “My presence will go with you.” Like a parent supporting a child learning to ride a bike, we are called to offer a steadying hand, to walk alongside those who are afraid, and to help one another find the courage to keep going. And by offering that support, we may discover that we are doing more than helping someone else along the way. We are encountering God’s presence in one another. May it be so.
Rev. Joe Gaspar