A Day in the Life
“And let them be ready for the third day. For on the third day the Lord will come down upon Mount Sinai in the sight of all the people.” Exodus 19:11
When I linger with the scene at Mount Sinai, I am struck not first by the thunder or the fire, but by the waiting. God did not summon Israel to rush into His presence. He called them to prepare. Two full days were set aside—not for travel logistics, but for spiritual readiness. The holiness of God demanded intentional alignment of heart, mind, and will. In Exodus 19, preparation was not optional; it was an act of reverence. To appear before the LORD unprepared would have been to treat His holiness as common. That truth unsettles me, because it exposes how easily I drift into casual approaches to God, shaped more by habit than awe.
The description of God’s descent—thunder, lightning, smoke, fire, and the blast of a trumpet—was not theatrical excess. It was revelation. God was teaching His people who He is before He told them how to live. As Walter Brueggemann observes, “Sinai is not primarily about law but about relationship; obedience is grounded in encounter.” The Ten Commandments flowed from the presence of God, not the other way around. In Jesus’ life, I see this same pattern. Before great moments of teaching or action, He often withdrew to pray. The Gospels repeatedly show Him preparing His heart before engaging the crowds. If the Son prepared Himself in communion with the Father, how much more should I?
One of the sobering insights from this passage is how quickly the world reorients us away from God. Six days in ordinary life—work, conflict, noise, and responsibility—can dull spiritual sensitivity. God’s gift of the Sabbath was not merely about rest, but about recalibration. It was a weekly act of preparation, a way to remember who God is and who His people are. Abraham Joshua Heschel famously wrote, “The Sabbath is a sanctuary in time.” Without such intentional pauses, my worship becomes thin, distracted, and reactive rather than receptive. Jesus Himself honored this rhythm, attending synagogue, withdrawing for prayer, and inviting His disciples to “come away…and rest a while” (Mark 6:31). Preparation was woven into His daily life with God.
The study’s question presses close to home: how do I prepare for worship, and what fills my mind the night before? I know from experience that what I give my attention to shapes the posture of my heart. Anxiety-laden news, unresolved arguments, or endless digital noise do not evaporate overnight; they echo into the morning. Genuine worship, whether personal or corporate, rarely happens by accident. It is cultivated. As A.W. Tozer wrote, “The reason why many are still troubled, still seeking, still making little forward progress is because they haven’t yet come to the end of themselves.” Preparation is often the quiet work of surrender—laying aside distractions so that God’s voice is not crowded out.
Living a day in the life of Jesus means embracing this rhythm of readiness. Jesus did not stumble into holy moments; He stepped into them with intention. Preparation did not diminish spontaneity—it deepened it. When I prepare to meet God, I find that worship becomes less about emotional fluctuation and more about attentiveness. My experiences of worship are, in many ways, mirrors of my preparation. God remains faithful regardless, but my capacity to hear and respond is shaped long before the moment arrives. Preparing now—this morning, this evening, this ordinary day—becomes an act of trust that God will indeed meet me when I seek Him.
For further reflection on preparing to encounter God, see this article from Desiring God: https://www.desiringgod.org/articles/how-to-prepare-for-worship
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