The Second Set: The Character of Our God Text: Exodus 34:1-9
Introduction: The Covenant in Pieces
We come now to a pivotal moment in the life of Israel, and consequently, in the history of redemption. The covenant, so recently established with thunder and lightning at Sinai, lies in pieces at the foot of the mountain. And I mean that quite literally. In the previous chapters, while Moses was on the mountain receiving the law written by the very finger of God, the people below were busy demonstrating exactly why they needed it and why they could never keep it. Led by Aaron, of all people, they fashioned a golden calf, a bovine deity, and proclaimed, "These are your gods, O Israel, who brought you up out of the land of Egypt!"
This was not a minor slip. This was high treason. This was spiritual adultery on their honeymoon. They had exchanged the glory of the invisible God for the image of a castrated bull that eats grass. In response to this flagrant apostasy, Moses, descending the mountain, took the two tablets of the testimony and shattered them. This was not a fit of pique. It was a prophetic act. The covenant had been broken by the people, and so the physical representation of that covenant was broken before their eyes. The terms had been violated, the contract voided. By all rights, the story of Israel should have ended right there, consumed by the righteous wrath of God.
But it doesn't. And the reason it doesn't is the central theme of our text today. God, in His astonishing mercy, decides to renew the covenant. He invites Moses back up the mountain for a second set of tablets. But this is not simply a do-over. Something profound has changed. The first giving of the law revealed God's standard. This second giving of the law reveals God's character. The first set was written by God on stones God provided. This second set will be written by God on stones that Moses, the sinner's representative, must hew and carry himself. Grace is not cheap. This story is the gospel in miniature: God's law is broken by man, but God Himself provides a way for renewal, a way rooted not in our performance, but in His own gracious, merciful, and just character.
The Text
Now Yahweh said to Moses, “Carve out for yourself two stone tablets like the former ones, and I will write on the tablets the words that were on the former tablets which you shattered. So be prepared by morning, and come up in the morning to Mount Sinai, and present yourself there to Me on the top of the mountain. And no man is to come up with you, nor let any man be seen anywhere on the mountain; even the flocks and the herds may not graze in front of that mountain.” So he carved out two stone tablets like the former ones, and Moses rose up early in the morning and went up to Mount Sinai, as Yahweh had commanded him, and he took two stone tablets in his hand. Then Yahweh descended in the cloud and stood there with him, and He called upon the name of Yahweh. Then Yahweh passed by in front of him and called out, “Yahweh, Yahweh God, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in lovingkindness and truth; who keeps lovingkindness for thousands, who forgives iniquity, transgression, and sin; yet He will by no means leave the guilty unpunished, visiting the iniquity of fathers on the children and on the grandchildren to the third and fourth generations.” And Moses made haste to bow low toward the earth and worship. And he said, “If now I have found favor in Your sight, O Lord, I pray, let the Lord go along in our midst, even though they are a stiff-necked people, and pardon our iniquity and our sin, and take us as Your own inheritance.”
(Exodus 34:1-9 LSB)
Hewn by Man, Written by God (vv. 1-4)
We begin with the divine command to renew the covenant instruments.
"Now Yahweh said to Moses, 'Carve out for yourself two stone tablets like the former ones, and I will write on the tablets the words that were on the former tablets which you shattered.'" (Exodus 34:1)
Notice the subtle but crucial difference here. The first time, God provided the tablets themselves (Exodus 32:16). They were "the work of God." This time, Moses must provide the raw material. He must carve out the blank slate. This is a picture of the human condition after the fall. The law is not lowered to our level, but we are now responsible for bringing our broken, stony hearts to God. We must do the work of preparation, the hewing, the shaping that repentance requires. But we cannot write the law on our own hearts. That is a divine prerogative. "I will write on the tablets," God says. This points forward to the New Covenant, where God promises, "I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts" (Jeremiah 31:33). Salvation is a joint operation in this sense: we bring the broken stone, and God brings the regenerating grace.
The words will be the same. God does not compromise His standard because of our failure. The Ten Commandments are not graded on a curve. His holy character, reflected in His law, is immutable. The fact that we shattered the law does not mean God will now issue a more lenient one. No, the standard remains, which should drive us to despair of our own righteousness and cast ourselves entirely on His mercy.
The instructions in verses 2-4 emphasize the holiness of this encounter. No man, not even an animal, is to be on the mountain. This is a holy transaction, a sacred meeting between God and the mediator of His people. Moses' obedience is immediate and precise. He gets up early, carves the stones, and ascends the mountain alone. True faith does not argue or procrastinate; it obeys.
The Proclamation of the Name (vv. 5-7)
What happens next is one of the most glorious moments in all of Scripture. God descends and reveals not just His law, but His very nature. He proclaims His name.
"Then Yahweh descended in the cloud and stood there with him, and He called upon the name of Yahweh. Then Yahweh passed by in front of him and called out, 'Yahweh, Yahweh God, compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in lovingkindness and truth...'" (Exodus 34:5-6)
In the ancient world, a name was not just a label; it was a revelation of character and essence. When God proclaims His name, He is unpacking His own resume. This is who He is. And what is the first thing He says about Himself, in the immediate aftermath of Israel's grotesque idolatry? He is "Yahweh, Yahweh God." He repeats His covenant name, emphasizing His faithfulness. He is the self-existent one, the promise-keeper. Then He defines what that name means in relation to His sinful people. He is "compassionate and gracious." He feels our weakness and gives us what we do not deserve. He is "slow to anger." His fuse is long. He does not fly off the handle, which is why Israel was not a smoking crater at the foot of Sinai. He is "abounding in lovingkindness and truth." The Hebrew for lovingkindness is hesed, that stubborn, loyal, covenant-keeping love. It is immense, overflowing. And it is paired with truth. His love is not a sentimental, squishy thing; it is grounded in reality.
Verse 7 continues this self-revelation, and it is crucial that we hold both sides of this declaration together.
"...who keeps lovingkindness for thousands, who forgives iniquity, transgression, and sin; yet He will by no means leave the guilty unpunished, visiting the iniquity of fathers on the children and on the grandchildren to the third and fourth generations." (Exodus 34:7)
Here is the central tension of the gospel. God is a God who forgives. He forgives "iniquity, transgression, and sin," a threefold declaration that covers the whole gamut of human rebellion. His mercy is vast, extending to "thousands," likely meaning thousands of generations. But this mercy does not cancel out His justice. He "will by no means leave the guilty unpunished." Our modern sensibilities want to pit God's love against His justice, as though they were two warring attributes. But for God, they are one. His justice is what makes His mercy meaningful. If sin doesn't matter, then forgiveness is a cheap platitude.
How can God be both merciful to the guilty and just in punishing guilt? The cross of Jesus Christ is the only answer. At the cross, God's justice was fully satisfied as He poured out His wrath for our sin upon His own Son. And at the cross, His lovingkindness was fully displayed as He forgave us and welcomed us as His children. God did not clear the guilty; He punished the guilt in the person of our substitute, Jesus Christ. This verse in Exodus is a signpost pointing directly to Calvary.
The part about visiting iniquity to the third and fourth generations is not, as some think, God punishing innocent children for their father's sins. Scripture is clear that each person is responsible for their own sin (Ezekiel 18). Rather, this is a statement of covenantal reality. Sins have consequences that ripple through families and cultures. A father's alcoholism, idolatry, or unbelief creates a toxic environment that his children and grandchildren will inherit. But notice the glorious asymmetry: the consequences of sin extend to the third and fourth generation, but His lovingkindness extends to thousands of generations. Grace always outstrips judgment. The wake of the ship of grace is infinitely larger than the wake of the ship of sin.
The Proper Response: Worship and Intercession (vv. 8-9)
How does Moses respond to this staggering revelation of God's character? He doesn't argue, he doesn't question. He worships.
"And Moses made haste to bow low toward the earth and worship." (Exodus 34:8)
This is always the first and right response to a true sight of God. Theology that does not lead to doxology is idolatry. When you see who God truly is, in both His mercy and His justice, the only sane thing to do is get on your face. All our clever arguments and sophisticated defenses fall silent before the majesty of His revealed character.
But worship is not the end. True worship always leads to mission and intercession. Moses immediately begins to pray, and his prayer is a model for us all. He takes the very character of God that has just been revealed and uses it as the basis for his appeal.
"And he said, 'If now I have found favor in Your sight, O Lord, I pray, let the Lord go along in our midst, even though they are a stiff-necked people, and pardon our iniquity and our sin, and take us as Your own inheritance.'" (Exodus 34:9)
Look at the logic here. Moses does not say, "Pardon us because we are not so bad." He says, "Pardon us because they are a stiff-necked people." He doesn't hide their sin; he confesses it. He essentially argues, "Lord, you just revealed that you are compassionate, gracious, and forgiving of iniquity. Well, here is a prime opportunity to display that character. We are a stiff-necked people, exactly the kind of people who need a God like you." He turns the sinfulness of the people into an argument for the necessity of God's grace.
This is how we must pray. We do not come to God on the basis of our merits, but on the basis of His. We plead His name, His character, His promises. We confess our stiff-necked rebellion, and then we ask Him to be who He has said He is. And the ultimate request is not just for pardon, but for His presence: "let the Lord go along in our midst." Forgiveness without fellowship is a hollow victory. The goal is not just to be let off the hook, but to be brought into His inheritance, to be His treasured possession. This is the heart of the covenant: God with us.