In Exodus 24:10, Aaron beheld the Lord. He saw the Almighty’s feet upon a pavement like sapphire stone—so vivid, so holy, he could describe it. He saw a glimpse of God’s unimaginable glory, gazed upon the radiance of the Holy One.
Yet, later, Aaron descended from that mountain and molded a golden calf. How could a man who’d seen heaven’s splendor, turn and fashion an idol that could never hold a candle to the very feet of God?
But then—don’t we do the same? We see God’s glory; we feel His hand move in ways we can’t explain. We witness His answers to our prayers, feel His nearness, yet how quickly we look away, our hearts slipping to something lesser. One day we stand in awe, and the next, we offer our devotion to something unworthy, something that could never measure up to Him. How it must grieve His heart, this cycle of revelation and forgetting, of worship and wandering.
What is your golden calf? The Lord yearns to reveal more of Himself to you, to fill every corner of your heart. But He will not contend for His place there. “No other gods before Me.” His command stands—unchanging, unyielding. Perhaps we no longer bow before graven images, but what do we treasure more than Him? Whatever it is—that is your golden calf.
As far as we know, Aaron was never invited back to that mountain. He lived his days haunted by the memory of that encounter, replaying the moment he beheld God’s glory because he’d lost the chance to behold it again. All for the sake of a golden calf.
May we forsake our idols, lay down every lesser thing, and cling to the one true God, who alone is worthy of our worship.
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