Beginning a series through John 14–17, Pastor Nathan examines the depth of Christian salvation through the lens of Exodus and Christ’s incarnation. Salvation is not just a theological concept—it is a deeply personal and relational reality where God gives Himself to us for eternity.
The Gospel of John is one of the final books written in the New Testament — composed toward the end of John's life, decades after Paul completed his writings. It is beloved because it presents Christ in both his divinity and humanity, revealing truths about the triune nature of God and offering the most complete picture of Christ and the salvation he came to accomplish.
From now until well into spring, we will be in John chapters 14–17 — the upper room, Thursday night, just hours before the crucifixion. We will follow Jesus from the upper room, across the Kidron brook, into the garden of Gethsemane, tracing a conversation that reveals the riches of communion with God himself.
Forgiveness of sins. Substitutionary atonement. Grace. Righteousness. These are right, glorious, and central to Scripture.
For John, salvation is a deeply personal and relational reality — God giving himself. The death of Christ is not an end in itself. It is so that we might be forgiven, made righteous, made children of God, and know, love, and enjoy God for all of eternity.
The center of salvation is ultimately about a who — with whom we have union and relationship forever. John 14–17 describes an access to God so profound we are called to abide in Christ, sharing the same relational access Jesus has within the Trinity.
John 14–17 is meant to broaden and deepen our understanding of the salvation Jesus is actually offering. Who is this God that gives so lavishly?
The very victory and peace of Christ himself.
The glory he enjoys with the Father, and his own joy.
"I go to prepare a place for you." Heaven itself.
His own Spirit, his own Father, and the very love the Father has for the Son.
Our journey begins not in John, but in Exodus 15:11 — the backdrop for everything John 14–17 reveals. Moses sings: "Who is like you, O Lord, among the gods? Who is like you, majestic in holiness, awesome in glorious deeds, doing wonders."
The Exodus begins in Egypt, in slavery. God parts the Red Sea — the great redemptive event of the Old Testament — bringing his people through the waters of death unto life. Critically, grace comes before the law: God delivers his people before Sinai, before obedience. The law is not the basis of salvation but the expression of love toward a God who has already saved. Everything God began in Exodus finds its fulfillment in a new mediator, a new Exodus, leading to a promised land that can never be taken away.
On the third day: thunders, lightnings, thick cloud, a loud trumpet blast — the whole mountain trembled. Moses spoke, and God answered in thunder. The Lord descended on Sinai in fire.
This is not merely power — it is communicable holiness. God's presence sanctifies the mountain so powerfully that touching it meant death. As Stephen Charnock wrote: "He is not only holy, but he is holiness… the highest created purity, if set in parallel with God, is but impurity and uncleanness."
Moses alone — face-to-face access with God.
Aaron, priests, and sons of Israel.
The people — outside, with the altar of sacrifice first required.
This tripartite structure mirrors the Tabernacle: Holy of Holies, Holy Place, and outer court — God accommodating himself to dwell with man.
Even Moses, the chosen intercessor, did not have uninhibited access. In Exodus 33, God tells Moses: "You shall see my back, but my face shall not be seen." Sinai is both a revealing and a concealing of God — a condescension where God restrains his natural being of pure, radiant, outward-shining light and power in order to meet with man.
The Tabernacle is a further condescension — God dwelling in the center of the camp, yet still separated. The sacrifices deal with sin only in part, granting the High Priest access to the Holy of Holies just once a year. God is near, but a gulf remains. And yet God wants more than nearness. He wants union. Even the first commandment — "You shall have no other gods before me" — carries the sense of marital fidelity: I have eyes only for you, as I have eyes for you.
"And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth." — John 1:14
God comes to Sinai. God enters the Tabernacle. And then God further condescends — taking on human flesh. Isaiah 53:2 says he had no form or majesty that we should look at him. At Sinai you could not miss the quakings and thunderings. Yet God comes in Jesus Christ, and you might walk right past him. Who is like our God?
God in fire, cloud, and thunder — veiled in power
God dwelling in the camp — further concealed
God in human flesh — the ultimate condescension
God uniting with our sin — opening the waters of death
Jesus is the intercessor Moses never was — truly God, truly flesh, in unbroken communion with the Father, able to take us all the way in. On the cross, he unites himself not only with our humanity but with our sin.
Like the marriage covenant: everything I am belongs to her, everything she is belongs to me. At the cross, our dowry to Jesus is our sin. His gift to us is his righteousness, his Father, his Spirit, his home, his glory, his peace, his joy, his eternal fellowship within the Trinity.
"Tell me that's not a fair trade. It is the most unfair trade."
God opened the Red Sea, but the people had to walk through it. Jesus has opened the waters of death. You must believe — fully trusting that Jesus alone saves. By his grace, he walks us through to the other side, all the way up into the cloud, into eternal communion with Christ. (Hebrews 3:3; 9:24)
Partial access. Face shielded. Base of the mountain. Flawed sacrifices. Once-a-year entry.
Full union. Access into the Holy of Holies. God dwelling in us by his Spirit. The very love the Father has for the Son. Eternal communion.
Every other religion is about us climbing up to God. But this is a God who comes down to meet us — restraining the natural expression of his infinite being, veiling his glory in cloud, in tabernacle, in flesh — all so that we might dwell with him.
One day the veil will be pulled back. In Revelation 1, John sees Jesus unveiled: "His face was like the sun shining in its full strength." And Jesus says, "I am going to take you to myself" — to a new garden, in the Holy of Holies, face to face, for all of eternity.
Knowing this God enlivens our love and adoration.
Grace — not law — is the engine of our obedience.
We look forward to seeing him unveiled in full majesty.
"Who is like you, O Lord, among the gods? Who is like you, majestic in holiness, awesome in glorious deeds, doing wonders." — Exodus 15:11
Who Is Like Our God?