When the last words of the Ten Commandments had rolled down Mount Sinai, and the last echoes had faded away amid the hills and valleys, the people standing at the foot of the mountain were a total wreck. They were shattered. The earth had moved beneath their feet, the mountain had smoked, the air had been split by lightning and peals of thunder, and the words—preceded by an ear-splitting trumpet blast—were strong enough to move your chest.
And all the people saw the thunderings, and the lightnings, and the noise of the trumpet, and the mountain smoking: and when the people saw it, they moved, and stood far off. And they said unto Moses, Speak you with us, and we will hear: but let not God speak with us, lest we die.
You and I probably think that we would really like God to speak to us. I would like him to tell me,
Ron, here’s what I want you to do. But, you know, I’m just not sure that I would survive the experience.