Text:  Deuteronomy 34:1-12                                                                                 Transfiguration

Close, But No Prize

            In the name of the Lord of Glory, dear friends in Christ:  I expect that everyone here has at one time or another walked through one of those carnival midways that feature all sorts of games of skill.  There are galleries where you fire pellet guns at various targets; and places where you throw balls to knock down stacked bottles, or toss rings over pegs or darts at balloons – they have all kinds of games.  And to entice you play, there are hundreds of nifty, eye-catching prizes displayed everywhere.  They’re all there dangling right in front of your face.  For kids there are giant stuffed animals and really neat toys that for some strange reason you only ever see at carnivals, and for the older folks there are binoculars and cameras and things like that.  And all you have to do to play is plunk down a small fee – worth only a fraction of the value of the prizes you’re looking at – and you have so many attempts to win.  The carnies, the folks who work these games, are good at what they do too.  It’s their job to draw your attention to the prizes and show you how incredibly easy it is to win them – why, they’re practically being given away.  They call, cajole, and sweet talk, appealing to your sense of pride or manhood or whatever—anything to get you to play.  And then, while you’re playing, they egg you on and keep encouraging you:  “Oh, that was so close; you nearly had it.  Care to try again?”

            And understand that not I’m talking about the kind of games like you might see at a local school carnival, which are designed to let most people win; no, I mean the kind like you’d see at the state fair that virtually no one ever wins; the ones that operate according to the principle that a fool and his money are soon parted.  The games are never as easy as they make it look.  The guns in the galleries don’t shoot straight, the “bottles” you’re supposed to knock over are weighted with lead, and those rings, well, they just don’t quite fit over the pegs you’re supposed to get them on.  It all looks like it should be easy; but if you think about it, you know it couldn’t be.  The reason they have so many of these games is because they make a lot of money off of them.  And I expect that a big part of every carnie’s job is constantly having to dust all those prizes – because rarely if ever do they give one away.  No, the last thing you almost always hear a carnie say is, “Close, but no prize.  Who wants to be the next to try?”

            Now, the very last thing I’d ever want to do is compare the Lord God to a professional carnie; but I think there’s at least one point of comparison that emerges in this morning’s Old Testament lesson.  There we find the Lord’s faithful servant Moses climbing up the rugged slope of Mount Nebo to the top of Pisgah’s peak.  Though he is now one hundred and twenty years old, the climb is not difficult for him. He’s still the very picture of strength and vitality because the Lord has miraculously kept him from the deterioration of age.  He began his ascent early this morning from plains of Moab on the east side of Jordan River where the children of Israel have camped.  They have been forty long years arriving at this spot.  Forty years of sojourn in the desert wasteland under Moses’ leadership ... forty years of living in tents and having to be constantly on the move, walking on scorching sand and being blasted by hot desert winds.   It was in part a punishment for their lack of faith; but it was also a lesson in faith building – the Lord reinforcing their confidence that what he has promised, he will provide.  Now, after all these years of living day to day only upon the mercy and Word of God, they get it.  And now, very soon, they will all cross the river and begin to take possession of the Promised Land.

            Everyone, that is, except Moses.  The Lord has other plans for him.  He’s directed Moses to make this climb to give him a good, long look at the eagerly anticipated prize.  And after forty years of seeing nothing but rocks, sand, dry bushes, and desert grass, what a sight it must have been for him.  From the heights of Nebo he could look westward and see the Judean hills covered with lush green grass.  He could see lakes, streams, orchards, cultivated fields, and vineyards; and in the distance, the coastal low lands and the dazzling sun reflecting off the blue water of the Mediterranean.  To the north, there was the snow-capped peak of Mount Hermon overlooking the Sea of Galilee, to the northwest were the famed cedar forests of Lebanon, and to the south he could see the desert of Negev.  That’s where they had been forty years earlier when the Lord first laid this land open before them.  Then Moses had urged the people forward to take possession of it – but they had refused to go.  They were afraid of the inhabitants of the land, afraid that they would all be killed in battle, afraid that God who had delivered them from Egypt with powerful miracles and who had led them thus far would abandon them.  With sad disappointment Moses remembered the day that the Lord had said to him, “Fine, if they don’t trust me to give them the land, then let them live – and die – in the desert.  Let them learn the hard way that they are to trust in me and in me alone.” 

            As I was studying in preparation for this morning’s message, I came across quite a few commentaries that spoke of how kind and gracious God was to give Moses this panoramic vista of the land he had so long hoped for.  But no matter how hard I try, I just can’t see it that way. Imagine standing there in Moses’ place. I suppose there would be some satisfaction in knowing that you had reached journey’s end and that the promise to the people was being fulfilled.  But overshadowing that feeling would be something else.  “There it is, Moses:  that’s the great goal you’ve labored for me so hard all these years to lead these people to; all those years of hard living in the desert, and you having to bear the brunt of their nearly constant bitter complaining. You really did a yeoman’s job. And now you see spreading out before you their great inheritance:  the land that I swore to give Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and their descendants forever … Doesn’t it look wonderful?  Isn’t it everything I promised?  And oh, by the way, did I tell you?  You can’t have it.  You’re so close Moses, so very close; but sorry:  you lose.  No prize for you.

            This is gracious?  “You win the booby prize:  after all you’ve done for me, you get to die in the desert; but just for fun let’s look behind curtain number three to see the grand prize you could have won”? Sounds to me more like the Greek myth of Tantalus.  Maybe you remember that story.  Because of some terrible sin committed in his life, Tantalus finds himself in Hades, condemned by the gods to stand in a lake with the water level right up to his chin. Above and before his face hang tempting rich clusters of ripe, juicy grapes.  But if he extends his hand for them, they quickly retreat out of his reach. Likewise, just as fast as he can stoop down for a drink, the water level in the lake recedes.  So he suffers constantly from agonizing thirst – which suffering is made all the more intense because relief is always just inches away; and yet, he can’t get to it.  It’s always just out of reach.  The Greeks understood this to be an ingenious torture.  Somehow we’re supposed to believe that when God did something similar to Moses it was an act of kindness?  I don’t think so.

            And what, do we ask, did Moses do that was so terrible that the Lord condemned him to receive treatment?  Was he a prolific adulterer?  Had he been dealing dishonestly with God’s people all these years, betraying his sacred trust?  Had he been lording it over them, or oppressing them?  You’d think that it would have to be something really bad. But no, not at all; in fact the text goes on about what a great man Moses was – absolutely no one like him, who served the Lord and did all those wonders, and who knew God face to face. Certainly his record of faithfulness was equal to or better than anyone who would be making the crossing.  So, what was it that caused him to be excluded? To be given only the opportunity to look, but not go in?

            It turns out that it was one little mistake made in a moment when Moses was quite justifiably angry with the people he was leading.  It happened very near the end of the 40-year journey.  After having been miraculously supplied with all they needed to survive every single day for 40 years, the Israelites came to a place where there was no water. Almost immediately some of them began wailing about how the Lord, that cruel, hardhearted oppressor, had brought them all this way only to kill them now of thirst.  That must have been his design all along.  Moses was utterly flabbergasted with the way they could even begin to think such a thing.  He was furious.  Nevertheless, the Lord told him to go ahead and give them water.  He told Moses to speak to a certain rock outcropping, which would then bubble forth with a spring.  But in his anger with the people, Moses stormed over to the rock and said (more or less), “You miserable, unfaithful people!  Can’t you trust God for anything?  Do you want water?  Do you think I should beat it out of this rock with my staff?”  Moses then proceeded to do exactly that.  He gave the rock a hard smack, and sure enough, a spring of water erupted from its base.  The people were satisfied; but the Lord told Moses, “That act of disobedience is going to cost you.  I told you to speak a word, and instead you struck with your staff.  So now you lose.  You are denied entry into the Promised Land.”

            And that strikes us as pretty heavy-handed treatment for so small a trespass.  Surely, we think, the Lord who is so gracious and forgiving could overlook this one little act of stupidity done in a moment of extreme agitation – especially when you consider that it was the Lord’s own good reputation that Moses was defending in his rage.  C’mon, can’t there be a second chance?  A way to make it up?  To try again? What happened to “the Lord who is slow to anger and abounding in love … who does not treat us as our sins deserve”? But no dice:  Moses ran up against a wall as hard as the rock he’d struck. You were close, Moses, so very close; but no prize for you.  You only get to see what it is you can’t have.  And man, that is just brutal – and since this really isn’t consistent with the character of the Lord God whom we worship, it leads to the inescapable conclusion that he must have had an extremely good reason for treating Moses in this way … a reason … a message that he really wants us to sit up and take notice of.

            And as it turns out, there are several lessons being illustrated here:  First, we have to understand that Moses is more than just any man; he’s the one through whom God gave the Law.  In a sense, he’s the living embodiment of the Law.  Future generations will use his name as a synonym of the commandments that God gave.  They won’t say to criminals, “You broke the Law”, they’ll say, “You’ve defied Moses”. And what the Law does is extend to you a great promise.  It’s the promise of the blessed life both in the here and now and also with the Lord in paradise.  And the Law can show you what that looks like.  It can stand you on the mountain, so to speak, where you can see all the blessings God wants to give to his faithful people.  But the promise attached to the Law is conditional:  only if you obey it do you win – then you’ll live and be blessed by God; but if you disobey it, you lose – you’ll be cursed and die.  And it doesn’t matter how close you come.  You have to obey in every detail.  No matter how close you come to perfection, commit one sin however small and you lose.  No prize for you.

              This truth has serious implications for us.  One is that it should put to rest forever the myth of the righteous unbeliever. We have all heard people speak of someone who was really good.  It often happens at funerals; but you hear it other times too.  “No”, they’ll say, “Pete or Sally wasn’t much on religion, didn’t see no use for it; but a better person you never met.  Surely, if God’s fair, he’ll open up the pearly gates for that one.”  And you stand there listening to this sort of thing, nodding – and deep down inside you’d like to believe that it’s true.  But it’s not.  And this morning’s message makes that absolutely clear.  If Moses, who was God’s friend and servant, and who knew him face to face couldn’t get in on his record, then no one can.

            Which leads to the second implication:  if no one can get in on their record, neither can you – especially considering the fact that if you’re like me, and you probably are, your track record has a lot more in common with the people who complained bitterly every time something failed to meet expectations than with that of Moses.  Surprisingly enough, that’s good news for us because those people did go in while Moses did not.  They got the prize, and Moses lost.  How? Well, there was a change of leadership. Moses, the Law, can lead you to the Promised Land and show you what it looks like, but he cannot lead you in.  That mission is reserved for someone else, a fellow named Joshua – which just happens to be the Hebrew form of the name Jesus. It means, “The Lord saves”.  He’s the guy who can lead you safely to the other side of the river.  And interestingly enough, he can only do it after Moses, the Law – but also the great deliverer of God’s people – has died.  The Lord Jesus, of course, is the fulfillment of all these things:  He’s our great Deliverer – who embodies the Law of God perfectly in every detail.  He’s the one who leads us through the wilderness of life, supplying all our needs.  Yet, he dies in the wilderness on account of our faithlessness and disobedience.  And in him, the Law that condemned us also dies. It’s buried by God in an unmarked grave and lost.  But then, unlike Moses, this Joshua rises to life and leads us into the Promised Land. We get in, not by obeying the Law, but by trust in him.

            I hope that’s all very clear, because now, at the risk of muddying the water, I’d like to take some of the ideas in this text just a step further.  Go back to Moses’ little sin at the rock, the one he hit with his staff.  That didn’t seem like such a big deal to us; but I want you to see that it was actually one of the biggest mistakes that anyone in a position of leadership in the church can make.  Moses was angry with the people for their lack of faith and trust. He expected more from them at this point.  The Lord, however, saw the people’s need and wanted to provide for it – and in the act of providing, he knew that would give them more trust in him.  This is key:  Moses responds to the people’s weakness with Law.  “You should be better by now.”  God responds with Gospel:  his unmerited gifts and love that make the people better.  Moses then proceeds to do with his hands what the Lord had said should be done by the power of his Word alone.  He takes what God intended as Gospel and tried to turn it into Law.  And this is every pastor or Bible teacher’s great temptation:  when things aren’t going as well as he might wish, to attempt to produce results by action, by doing something, or by telling others what they should or should not be doing – that is, by the Law which can never be performed to standard – rather than accomplishing what God wants done in his people by the power of the Gospel that says everything has already been done to perfection by Christ – you have only to believe it.  You, as God’s people, need to be wary of this, and judge the words and teachings those who instruct you accordingly.

            Understand that Moses didn’t just hit a rock in his anger; he struck out against the grace of God for weak and pathetic sinners.  In fact, in his letter to the Corinthians, Paul says that the rock Moses hit was Christ.  And herein we have yet another Gospel image:  Moses, the representation of the Law, strikes the Rock – contrary to the Word of God – just as years later those who sat in the seat of Moses would strike and condemn the Lord Jesus.  But despite their disobedience to God, from these smitten rocks flowed water to give life and cleansing to God’s people.  God is faithful even when we are not.

            And that too is good news for us – and for Moses. Though for purposes of illustration the Lord treated him in a way that seemed rather harsh, we shouldn’t get too worked up about it.  He too is covered by the great sacrifice made by the Lord Jesus, and he too died in faith. And though he was denied access to his immediate goal, he was taken instead to that place the Promised Land only foreshadowed.  There to him the glory of the Lord Jesus was first fully revealed – just as it was to the disciples on the mount of Transfiguration – and will be one day to each of us, when we too cross the river under his leadership and guiding. That will be the greatest prize of all. And it’s already been won for us in Jesus Christ our Lord.  To him be our worship and praise forever. Amen.

Soli Deo Gloria!