The Terrible Glory and the Undone Man Text: Daniel 10:1-9
Introduction: A God Who Is Not Safe
We live in an age that wants a manageable God. Our generation has domesticated Jesus, turning the Lion of Judah into a housecat who purrs when we scratch Him behind the ears. We want a therapist, a life coach, a spiritual buddy who affirms our choices and never, ever frightens us. We have created a Jesus in our own image: soft, sentimental, and, above all, safe. And he is a liar. He is an idol.
The Scriptures, on the other hand, present us with a God who is a consuming fire. He is a holy terror to His enemies and an awesome, fearsome reality even to His beloved saints. When sinful men in the Bible come face to face with the unveiled glory of God, they do not feel self-actualized. They do not get a warm feeling. They come undone. They fall on their faces as though dead. They are flattened by a glory so pure, so powerful, so utterly other that it threatens to disintegrate their very being.
This passage in Daniel 10 is one of those moments. Daniel, an old and righteous man, a man greatly beloved by God, is granted a vision of a celestial being. And the experience wrecks him. It drains him of all strength and leaves him in a deathly stupor on the ground. This is not an encounter with a garden-variety angel. This is a collision with the divine. This is a glimpse of the pre-incarnate Christ, the Captain of the Lord's armies, and it serves as a stark and necessary corrective to our casual, flippant, and anemic view of the living God.
The "great conflict" mentioned in the first verse is not just some future geopolitical event that chart-thumping prophecy guys get excited about. The great conflict is what happens when the uncreated God of heaven invades the created world of men. It is the collision of holiness and sin, of infinite power and finite dust. And unless we understand this conflict, we will never understand the gospel. We will never grasp the terror from which we have been saved, or the majesty of the One who saved us.
The Text
In the third year of Cyrus king of Persia, a word was revealed to Daniel, who was named Belteshazzar; and the word was true and one of great conflict, but he understood the word and had an understanding of what had appeared.
In those days, I, Daniel, had been mourning for three entire weeks. I did not eat any tasty food, nor did meat or wine enter my mouth, nor did I use any ointment at all until the entire three weeks were fulfilled.
And on the twenty-fourth day of the first month, while I was by the bank of the great river, that is, the Tigris, I lifted my eyes and looked, and behold, there was a certain man dressed in linen, whose loins were girded with a belt of pure fine gold of Uphaz. His body also was like beryl, his face had the appearance of lightning, his eyes were like flaming torches, his arms and feet like the gleam of burnished bronze, and the sound of his words like the sound of a multitude.
Now I, Daniel, alone saw the vision that appeared, but the men who were with me did not see the vision that appeared; nevertheless, a great terror fell on them, and they ran away to hide themselves. So I alone remained and saw this great vision that appeared; yet no might remained in me, for my outward splendor turned to a deathly pallor, and I retained no might. But I heard the sound of his words; and as soon as I heard the sound of his words, I fell into a deep sleep on my face, with my face to the ground.
(Daniel 10:1-9 LSB)
A Heavy Word for a Heavy Heart (vv. 1-3)
We begin with the setting and the prophet's spiritual posture.
"In the third year of Cyrus king of Persia, a word was revealed to Daniel... and the word was true and one of great conflict, but he understood the word..." (Daniel 10:1)
Daniel is an old man now, likely in his late eighties. He has outlasted empires. The word revealed to him is not a set of abstract propositions; it is true, and it concerns a "great conflict," or as the Hebrew can be rendered, a "great warfare." This is not just about earthly armies; this is a revelation of the spiritual war that rages behind the curtain of history. And Daniel understood it. This understanding was not a comfort; it was a burden. True spiritual sight is a weighty thing.
"In those days, I, Daniel, had been mourning for three entire weeks. I did not eat any tasty food, nor did meat or wine enter my mouth, nor did I use any ointment at all..." (Daniel 10:2-3)
Daniel's response to this burden is not to distract himself or to practice some modern form of "self-care." His response is to humble himself before God. For three weeks, he engages in a partial fast. This is not a hunger strike to twist God's arm. Fasting is the physical expression of spiritual desperation. It is a way of saying with your whole body, "God, I need you more than I need food. I need your wisdom more than I need wine. I need your presence more than I need comfort." Daniel is grieving, likely for the sins of his people and the struggles of the returning exiles. He is laying his body low in order to elevate his petitions to heaven. This is the posture of a man who takes God seriously.
The Man by the River (vv. 4-6)
After three weeks of this intense seeking, God answers. And the answer is overwhelming.
"I lifted my eyes and looked, and behold, there was a certain man dressed in linen, whose loins were girded with a belt of pure fine gold of Uphaz. His body also was like beryl, his face had the appearance of lightning, his eyes were like flaming torches, his arms and feet like the gleam of burnished bronze, and the sound of his words like the sound of a multitude." (Daniel 10:5-6)
We must be very clear about who this is. This is no mere angel. The description is far too glorious, and it echoes other descriptions of God Himself. Compare this to the vision of the risen and glorified Christ that the apostle John saw on Patmos: "clothed with a garment down to the feet and girded about the chest with a golden band... His eyes like a flame of fire; His feet were like fine bronze... and His voice as the sound of many waters" (Revelation 1:13-15). This is a theophany, a pre-incarnate appearance of the Son of God.
Every detail is dripping with divine significance. The linen is the garment of a priest, for He is our great High Priest. The gold belt speaks of His royalty, for He is the King of kings. The beryl stone, the lightning-face, the torch-eyes, the burnished bronze limbs, all of it speaks of unapproachable holiness, transcendent purity, and awesome, judging power. This is the glory of God in person. The sound of His words is not a gentle whisper; it is like the roar of a vast army or a raging sea. This is the Logos, the Word through whom the worlds were made, speaking with creative and terrifying power.
The Correct Response to Unveiled Glory (vv. 7-9)
The remainder of our text describes the effect this vision has on those in the vicinity, and it is a lesson in the fear of the Lord.
"Now I, Daniel, alone saw the vision that appeared, but the men who were with me did not see the vision... nevertheless, a great terror fell on them, and they ran away to hide themselves." (Daniel 10:7)
This is fascinating. The other men do not see the Man, but they feel the effects of His presence. The ambient glory of the Son of God is so potent that it sends them into a panic. The holiness of God radiates, and to those who are unprepared, it is a terror that makes them flee and hide. This is what happened to Adam and Eve in the garden. When they heard the sound of God walking, they hid. The presence of a holy God is terrifying to sinful creatures, whether they see Him or not.
But what about Daniel, the righteous man, the man of God?
"So I alone remained and saw this great vision that appeared; yet no might remained in me, for my outward splendor turned to a deathly pallor, and I retained no might. But I heard the sound of his words; and as soon as I heard the sound of his words, I fell into a deep sleep on my face, with my face to the ground." (Daniel 10:8-9)
Daniel's reaction is not one of self-congratulation. He does not feel empowered or special. He is utterly undone. All his natural strength, his "outward splendor," drains away and is replaced with the pale face of a corpse. He is completely incapacitated. The sight of divine glory reduces him to zero. Then, the sound of that voice, like a multitude, finishes the job. He collapses into a "deep sleep," face down in the dirt. He is out cold.
This is the consistent, universal reaction of godly men when they encounter the unveiled glory of God. Isaiah saw the Lord high and lifted up and cried, "Woe is me, for I am undone!" (Isaiah 6:5). Ezekiel saw the glory of the Lord and fell on his face (Ezekiel 1:28). When the disciples saw a glimpse of Christ's glory on the Mount of Transfiguration, they "fell on their faces and were terrified" (Matthew 17:6). When John saw the risen Christ, he "fell at His feet as dead" (Revelation 1:17).
A true vision of God's majesty will always, without exception, lead to a true vision of our own frailty and sinfulness. It is a glory that strips us of all pretense, all self-reliance, all strength. It is a glory that kills. It must kill our pride before it can give us life.
Conclusion: Flattened for Service
Why does God reveal Himself in such a terrifying way? Is it to crush Daniel? No. It is to prepare him. In the verses that follow, this same glorious man will reach out, touch Daniel, and strengthen him to receive the message God has for him. But he must be flattened before he can be raised. He must be emptied before he can be filled. He must be undone before he can be used.
This is the pattern of the gospel. We are all like Daniel's companions, fleeing from a holiness we cannot bear. And if God were to grant us a true vision of His glory, apart from His grace, it would undo us completely and eternally. But the good news is that this same glorious Man, this terrifying Son of God, put on flesh. He veiled His glory so that men could approach Him. And on the cross, the full, terrifying force of God's holy wrath against sin, a force that would disintegrate us, was poured out upon Him.
He was undone so that we might be made whole. He was struck down so that we might be lifted up. Because of Christ, we can now approach the throne of grace with confidence. But let us never forget who it is we are approaching. We come to a consuming fire, but we come through the Son who endured that fire for us. Our worship, therefore, should never be casual. It should be shot through with a sense of awe, reverence, and a holy fear that remembers the terror of the Man by the river. For it is only when we are undone by His glory that we can be truly remade by His grace.