At the risk of sounding extremely Texan: when I was sixteen, I went through a bit of a cowgirl phase—as teenagers tend to do in West Texas, even if they have zero connection to the hard work real cowboys actually do. I faithfully wore my leather boots and bootcut jeans to school every single day, and I listened exclusively to country music.

Like each of the books of the Bible, 1 John was written for a certain age and addresses a specific community of faith. But apparently these ancient Christians were asking the same deep, human questions that we do: Who am I? What is the purpose of my life? And perhaps most of all on days like today, What’s to become of me when I die?

It has been a long journey over these last several weeks as we’ve traced the story of the Exodus, this creation story of the people of God, from their bondage in Egypt, their escape from Pharaoh’s armies, and their years in the desert wilderness learning who God is and who they are.

Within this larger story of the relationship between God and God’s people in the Exodus that we have been tracing over these many weeks, is the story of the smaller, more intimate relationship between God and Moses. In fact, the relationship between God and Moses and the intimacy they share is really unparalleled in scripture, save for perhaps Mary in the Gospel of Luke. Ellen Davis, a wonderful Biblical scholar, has said that “if God has a best friend (and why not?) then surely it is Moses.”^[1]

If we follow that the Exodus, which we’ve been tracing over these last several weeks, is the creation story for God’s people, then it’s only a matter of time before we get to the fall; the point in the story when the ideal of God and humanity dwelling in covenant community with each other comes crashing down, or at least is severely complicated.