By Curtis K. Shelburne
“Make me a god!” It seems like such a strange request — until we realize how often we probably make this same request ourselves.
Israel’s children were waiting in the desert at the foot of Mt. Sinai. Moses had been summoned up the mountain by God himself. Jehovah was about to have Moses give his people the tablets of the law.
But Moses had been gone a good while. Forty days and nights. And Israel’s children were as restless and impatient as a little child waiting on his mama at Cloth World. What had happened to Moses? What was taking him so long? Was he even still alive or had that awesome display of power on the mountain unmade him?
At first, perhaps, they were just impatient. But impatience turned into anger, and anger flowered into folly as they accosted Aaron, “Moses is gone. We don’t know what happened to him, but he’s gone. Make us a god!”
Why did they need a god?
Was it because the God who rained plague after plague on their humiliated Egyptian task-masters was somehow away like Moses, off on a long journey?
Was it because the God who had parted the Red Sea and then swallowed Pharaoh’s entire army in swirling death too weak to somehow help Israel’s children along on the rest of their journey?
Was it because the God who had created this world and who gave them their very lives was not God enough?
Was it because the God who would soon be feeding them with manna and sharing with them his very presence was less than the answer to their need?
“Make us a god!”
A god you can make. A supposed creator created by his own creatures. Hmm.
What comes first — the chicken or the egg?
What comes first — the creator or the creatures?
I’ve always wondered how mechanistic and naturalistic evolutionists get around the big question: “Who lit the fuse for the Big Bang?” So, they say, life on earth originated from some primordial soup? Well, who made the soup? Where did the stuff of creation come from? It seems to me, you must have a creator, a cook, a pre-existent chef of amazing power, back there somewhere.
And now the request comes: Make us a god! And it makes me wonder about the kind of god who can be made by creatures who fashion him in their own liking, set him up on a stand, and then bow down to him, presumably to thank him for life and all good things.
I see a problem here. And it would seem even sillier if we didn’t do the same thing ourselves all the time.
“Make us a god!”
The god that Aaron made for them was gold. Fitting, I suppose. Lots of ours are, too. We bow before money and what it can buy. We bow before pleasure. We bow before success and prestige.
But the God who redeemed us on a cross is God enough. Let’s bow before him.