At Mount Sinai

There are many parallels today to Israel’s journey out of Egypt.

I can only imagine what they must have felt as they departed. Perhaps the closest comparison for us is the relief of finally leaving a job we dreaded, or moving away from a place we couldn’t wait to escape. Yet even in those moments, we don’t fully know where we’re going or how difficult the road ahead may be. Israel didn’t know either, as their travels would soon reveal. God delivered them from Pharaoh one final time at the Red Sea, performing a mighty miracle. They rejoiced, just as we do when God moves powerfully in our lives—whether through miracles, revival, or a retreat that rekindles our excitement for Him. But eventually, we return to everyday life and its pressures.

When the Israelites reached Mt. Sinai, Moses went up the mountain and remained there for forty days. The people lost hope, lost faith, and urged Aaron to make a golden calf. I imagine they were eager to reach the promised land. What was taking Moses so long? Were they stuck here? Their conversations must have gone on and on.

And what about us? We all have our own Mt. Sinai moments—times when we don’t hear from God, when prayers seem unanswered, when we ask for purpose and guidance and things seem to get worse instead of better. Hard circumstances can overwhelm us. It can feel like a giant foot is pressing us into the ground. Many of us have been there.

In those seasons, it’s easy to lose touch with God. We may turn to others for the love, acceptance, and spiritual support we crave. But if that person fails us or leaves, we crumble. I believe something like this may have driven Israel to pressure Aaron into making the golden calf. They wanted something they could see, something tangible to cling to. And when Moses finally came down the mountain, he found them in idolatry. We know the rest of the story.

All of us stop at Mt. Sinai at some point in our Christian walk. We all face times of testing. But Jesus is about to come down the hill as well. This present wilderness will not last forever. One day we will cross the Jordan. That is the struggle—and the hope—we share. The beautiful part is that we’re in this together, encouraging and praying for one another until that day.

These were the thoughts on my heart as I wrote the following poem.

At Mount Sinai

It was a place where holy knowledge reached a few,  

Who carried it to others, teaching what to do.  

A place of isolation, far from all the rest;  

Where hunger often met them, and faith was put to test.  

Mount Sinai held both blessing and deep sorrow,  

For they stood suspended between past and tomorrow.  

Leaving what had been to reach what lay ahead,  

Unaware the present trials would shape their hearts instead.  

No, we never seem to linger in that place—  

Where every path is closed except to seek God’s face.  

Look anywhere else and disaster’s sure to strike;  

It’s inevitable when we refuse to walk in Jesus’ light.  

And yet, Sinai can become a sacred place;  

God is ever-present to the ones who seek His face.  

He is the Provider—yes, the only One;  

In the desert, look around: luxuries, there are none.  

We mustn’t lose heart while Moses climbs the hill;  

Just wait on God and keep your spirit still.  

This is the hardest struggle we must overcome—  

To work with faith and patience until the task is done.  

It’s easy in the land of milk and honey to stand strong,  

And in times of revival when God’s goodness feels lifelong;  

But the test comes when you’re at the mountain all alone—  

Trusting in the Lord’s provision, not the comforts you have known.  

So when you’re trapped between the future and the past,  

Feeling purposeless, your fading zeal slipping fast;  

Remember: God provides—so lift your prayers once more,  

For in His time, He’ll guide you safely to Jordan’s shore.  

Then you will cross at last to the other side.  

It was at Sinai you surrendered fear and pride.  

And in that day, you’ll understand and you’ll rejoice 

Entering the promised land by heeding God’s voice.  

© 1996 Sandra C. Johnson 

This poem was adapted into a song and can be viewed on my YouTube channel here:

https://youtu.be/fgeYTpetuWA?si=TGHhk_m1CdKuVVJO