Tag Archives: Moses

The Mountain

March 26, 2026 Tom Vander Well Leave a comment

About eight days after Jesus said this, he took Peter, John and James with him and went up onto a mountain to pray.
Luke 9:28 (NIV)

This past spring a friend invited me to climb a mountain. It wasn’t a tall mountain, mind you. The rugged trail to the summit was few miles and the ascent was gentle enough that it didn’t wear me out too much. But, it was a mountain. The view was spectacular. As an Iowa boy living my life on the rolling plains, it was a rare opportunity and experience.

A year or so ago I listened to The Bible Project’s podcast series on mountains in the Bible. In case you didn’t know it, mountains are a whole theme across the Great Story, and in today’s chapter we encounter one of the most crucial examples. it’s a strange one—but once you see the connections (because in the Great Story, everything connects), it opens up in all sorts of ways.

To unpack it, we first have to travel back to our chapter-a-day trek through Exodus. In Exodus 19, Moses and the recently freed Hebrew slaves arrive at Mount Sinai and God makes a covenant with the Hebrew people.

Moses ascends the mountain
A cloud envelops it
God’s voice thunders
His face shines when he comes down
The Law is given

Sinai is fire and fear.
Distance. Boundaries. “Do not come too close.”

It’s holy, yes—but also heavy. The people tremble. Even Moses feels the weight of it.

Now, let’s compare that to what happens in today’s chapter.

Jesus ascends the mountain
A cloud envelops it
God’s voice speaks
Jesus’ face shines like the sun
And… Moses is there

Did you catch that?

Moses—the man of Sinai—now standing beside Jesus.

The Law stands next to its fulfillment.

As I meditate on the two, I find four absolutely delicious echoes.

1. The Cloud

Same symbol. Same presence.

At Sinai: terrifying mystery.
At Transfiguration: intimate revelation.

The cloud hasn’t changed.

But the way we experience it has.

2. The Voice

At Sinai: commands carved in stone.
At Transfiguration: “This is my Son… listen to him.”

That’s not just a statement—that’s a handoff.

From law → to living Word
From tablets → to a person

3. The Shining Face

Moses reflects glory.

Jesus radiates it.

One borrows the light…
The other is the light.

4. The Conversation

Luke tells us what they’re talking about:

They speak of Jesus’ “departure” — the Greek word is exodus.

Oh, that’s not accidental. That’s poetry with teeth.

Moses led the first exodus—out of Egypt.
Jesus is about to lead a greater one—out of sin and death.

Same word. Bigger story.

But the best is yet to come when it comes to what this means for me today as a disciple following Jesus.

Peter, bless his enthusiastic heart, wants to build tents.

“Let’s stay here. Let’s capture this. Let’s make it permanent.”

Oh, I feel that sentiment. I’ve felt it on several spiritual mountaintops.

I love those Sinai moments.
Those Transfiguration moments.
Those flashes of clarity where everything feels bright and certain and… safe.

But then the cloud clears.

And Jesus?

He’s alone.

Moses fades. Elijah fades. The moment fades.

Because the point was never the mountain.

It was always Him… and He never stays there.

If Sinai and the stone tablets say “Obey and live,”
and the mountain of Transfiguration says “Listen to him”…

Then the question quietly slips into my morning like a hand on my back:

Am I still trying to live by laws carved in stone…
or am I actually listening to the voice?

Because it’s possible—oh, dangerously possible—to admire Sinai, respect the law, nod at the glory…

…and still not follow the Son down the mountain.

And he always comes down the mountain.

Toward people.
Toward pain.
Toward Jerusalem.

And when I listen to the Voice…it’s always calling my name.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Promotional graphic for Tom Vander Well's Wayfarer blog and podcast, featuring icons of various podcast platforms with a photo of Tom Vander Well. — These chapter-a-day blog posts are also available via podcast on all major podcast platforms including Apple, Google, and Spotify! Simply go to your podcast platform and search for “Wayfarer Tom Vander Well.” If it’s not on your platform, please let me know!

Chapter-a-Day

Journey’s End

February 2, 2026 Tom Vander Well 1 Comment

And Moses the servant of the Lord died there in Moab, as the Lord had said.
Deuteronomy 34:5 (NIV)

I mentioned in one of my posts last week that the third anniversary of my mom’s passing is approaching. The dark and cold of winter bring back sense memory of it for me. It is a moment I will forever hold dear; sitting there at her bed with my dad and sister as she slipped into eternity.

Death is a holy moment.

There is a genuine sobriety of spirit one experiences when, in an instant, there is one less life in the room.

Death is also an intimate moment.

My mother gave me the gift of life. To be with her as she stepped through the veil was meaningful in ways I can’t express.

Today’s short and final chapter of Deuteronomy tells the story of Moses. It is more than a simple retelling. Like the moment of death itself, it is holy. It is intimate.

Jewish tradition sees something in the text that is easily missed in the English translation.

al-pî YHWH

Word for word:

ʿal – “upon / by”
pî – “mouth”
YHWH – “the LORD”

So the literal rendering is unmistakable: “by the mouth of the LORD.”

The phrase in its usual and common context modifies a command. Priests act “by the mouth of the Lord.” Commands are give “by the mouth of Moses.”

But, Deuteronomy 34:5 is not your usual and common context. We’re not dealing with a command, but the death of God’s man. The chapter is careful to point out that Moses was not frail at the end. He had strong sight and plenty of vigor. He was not failing. He was simply finished with his earthly task.

Moses dies “by the mouth of the LORD.”

As God breathed life into Adam, He similarly receives Moses’ life.

A divine kiss.

Intimate.

Holy.

Then the text continues to amaze as God Himself buries Moses in an unmarked grave just short of the Promised Land to which he led the people but will not enter himself.

No shrine. No spectacle. No packed national assembly. It’s just God and His man Moses. Received with a kiss. God digs the grave. God prepares the body. God buries Moses. Alone.

In the quiet this morning, I find myself meditating on what I can learn from Moses in the end.

I will never see the full fruit of my work. I may not watch the final act of the story I helped God author. I may not get credit, closure, or an ovation. Yet, I can still finish this earthly journey fulfilled.

Moses teaches me to let go of outcomes without resentment. He encourages me to bless the next generation without envy. He whispers assurance that I can trust God with the ending I don’t get to choreograph.

God asks me to steward, not complete.

And then—I get to climb the mountain anyway.
To look.
To bless.
To let go.

God will meet me there. He’ll take care of everything.

Tomorrow our chapter-a-day journey begins a quick trek through James.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

The Blessing

January 30, 2026 Tom Vander Well Leave a comment

“This is the blessing that Moses the man of God pronounced on the Israelites before his death….”
Deuteronomy 33:1 (NIV)

This past Sunday I delivered the morning message among our local gathering of Jesus’ followers. At the beginning of the message I showed a photograph of our family gathered on New Year’s weekend, just a few weeks ago. The entire crew was gathered at the table for a meal in all the glorious mess of three generations.

The table, the dining room floor, indeed the entire house – they get messy when the whole family gathers. And, I’m not just referring to food crumbs. That was the metaphor that carried through my message. Jesus invites the whole family to the table. It gets messy, and yet He asks us to stay.

In family (both nuclear and spiritual), every individual part contributes to the love of the whole.

Today’s chapter is Moses’ final act. His role as leader-judge-prophet-priest will end with him. His is not a box on the org chart to be filled. A succession plan was never a consideration. There’s no favored son groomed for elevation. Moses does not pout or demand a severance of legacy. He foreshadows and embodies the sentiment Paul would later express when he wrote, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”

Moses’ final act is to bless the twelve Hebrew tribes one-by-one. As I meditated on the blessings. A couple of things stood out.

First, in Jewish tradition, blessings are less about forecasting the future and more about naming reality—calling forth what is already true beneath the surface. Moses is not predicting outcomes; he is bestowing identity.

Just as I look around the table from toddler grandchildren to adult daughters and sons. Each is unique. No two are the same. They each, in their own unique identity, bring themselves to the table and with each of them comes a part of the blessing of family.

And, this leads to the next observation.

No tribe is cursed. Even the complicated ones—and, honestly they each have their own “troubles”—are not shamed. Silence, yes. Erasure, no. Where earlier stories carried fracture, Moses now offers healing through words.

And, to me, most importantly: Israel is blessed together. No tribe receives fullness apart from the others. The blessing is communal—interdependent, embodied, shared.

In the quiet this morning, I find the chapter inviting me to do something wildly countercultural:

Receive blessing without scrambling to deserve it.

Moses blesses warriors and poets, priests and homebodies, the strong and the sheltered. Not because they nailed it—but because God chose them.

It’s easy for me to slip into “blessing is a performance review” mode. Others times, my Enneagram Type Four shame whispers to my soul that God’s blessing has been passed out and I was skipped altogether.

Moses says “no” to both lies.

I am blessed before I arrive.
I am carried even when I wander.
I am named even in the silence.

That’s the beauty, and the shalom, that I find in the Great Story. Moses exits stage left. The Story goes on, even to this.very.day.

The God who went before them…
is the God who goes before me.
Jesus invited me to the table, and asked me to stay.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Of Covenant and Mystery

January 26, 2026 Tom Vander Well Leave a comment

The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever, that we may follow all the words of this law.
Deuteronomy 29:29 (NIV)

One of the most painful and difficult seasons of my earthly journey was the dissolution of my first marriage. It’s not a dull, focused pain, but a sharp one that branches in many directions. There are so many places it touches. There are my own personal failings and poor choices. There is the 20-20 hindsight of the many things I could have and should have said and/or done – things to which I was woefully blind at the time. There are the painful consequences and ripple effects that the end of the marriage thrust upon one another, our daughters, and those in our circles of relationship.

I remember two very strong and honest reactions from our young teen daughters at the time. I found these two to be ironic opposites. On one hand, they had seen and perceived more than I realized. A piece of them was not surprised. On the other hand, there was a desire — shot out like a demand — to know everything. A teenager’s personal Freedom of Information Act petition, proclaiming her right to know everything about the breakdown of her parents’ marriage.

What was received was disappointment. Some things might be shared and understood with time, maturity, and life experience. Time and distance is required for some things to be viewed in proper context. And, there are other things that will remain hidden, things understood only by the two who shared them.

On this life journey, not everything is meant to be known.

In today’s chapter, Moses stands before all of the Hebrews and ratifies God’s covenant with them. The Jordan River flowing behind him and the Promised Land in the distance, the ancient leader says, “Before you cross, look back.”

This chapter ratifies the covenant anew—not just for those who saw Egypt crack open, but for everyone standing there… and everyone yet unborn.

Blessing and curse are laid bare. Obedience brings life like rain on dry ground; rebellion brings rot, exile, and future nations asking, “What happened here?”

And then comes the line that purrs and growls at the same time:

“The secret things belong to the Lord our God, but the things revealed belong to us and to our children forever…”

Mystery stays veiled. Responsibility does not.

One of the most profound truths I’ve had to learn to embrace as a follower of Jesus is that mystery is intimately woven into the journey.

Some eyes see but don’t perceive.
Some ears hear but don’t understand.
Some things are hidden, even from God’s own Son.

“But about that day or hour no one knows, not even the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.”
Matthew 24:36 (NIV)

Some things remain a mystery. The angsty teenager within me filing my own personal Freedom of Information Act petitions with my heavenly Father had to learn to live with disappointment.

Further in my journey, I found that disappointment eventually gave way to humility and faith. As I attempt to follow in Jesus’ footsteps I find in His own example a peace and complete trust to leave certain knowledge with the Father, despite what I might argue is His divine right to demand it.

That final verse of today’s covenant renewal falls like a gentle, holy hand on my shoulder this morning:

I am not required to solve God.
I am required to respond to Him.

Some things remain veiled. That’s okay.
But what has been revealed—love God, walk humbly, choose life—that belongs to me. Today. Right now.

So with humility and faith, I sign my name again in the quiet.
And I walk into a new work week embraced by covenant and mystery.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

A Land That Drinks Rain

December 18, 2025 Tom Vander Well Leave a comment

https://open.spotify.com/episode/0xRclnGJ6BIS5zescdesgG?si=dAN3qhtQSfiLuN9Et294SQ

The land you are entering to take over is not like the land of Egypt, from which you have come, where you planted your seed and irrigated it by foot as in a vegetable garden. But the land you are crossing the Jordan to take possession of is a land of mountains and valleys that drinks rain from heaven.
Deuteronomy 11:10-11 (NIV)

It’s not even Christmas and our driveway has required shoveling more times already than a few entire winters of recent memory. Last weekend Wendy and I were driving through a snow storm.

“Well, the farmers will be happy,” Wendy said.

That is such an Iowa thing to say. When you live in a state that drives nearly $50 billion dollars in annual revenue from crop production, agriculture is always part of the conversation. But for children of Iowa, it’s more than just money. We know that the fertile fields of Iowa feed the world. Closer to home and hearth, we know that farming is the life-blood and legacy of families.

Growing up in Iowa, you quickly learn that weather isn’t just about comfort or recreation, it’s an essential element of life, provision, and prosperity.

On a macro level, Moses’ words to the Hebrews crossing into the Promised Land in today’s chapter are about the blessings of love, legacy, and loyalty contrasted with the curses of apathy, forgetfulness, and hearts that wander. Right in the middle of the chapter (ancient Hebrew writers loved to put the most important bits in the center of the text), is a fascinating reference. Meteorology as metaphor: rain.

Back in Egypt, Moses reminds his people, water had to be industrially stored and channeled. Irrigation systems required. Humans digging, tunneling, manufacturing ways to make water work for them—that’s human empire. Human ingenuity finding ways to do what God does naturally by divine means. Humans have been doing that since the Tower of Babel.

The Promised Land, Moses tells his children, is God’s country. It is a land God Himself waters with rain from heaven. Rain is God’s blessing on the land and the people. God’s blessing, however, requires…

Faith, not function
Trust, not contraptions
Love, not labor.

This is God through Moses laying another layer of metaphor to lovingly communicate what He’s been saying all along. I’ve chosen and called you to be different than this world and the kingdoms of this world. Not because you deserve it or earned it but because of my love, grace, and mercy. Love me, trust me, follow me and rain will fall from heaven and you will be blessed with abundance and prosperity you can scarcely imagine.

Then comes the hard side of love. It isn’t punishment, it’s consequence.

There is a consequence, a curse, that comes if love, trust, and fidelity fade and fail. The skies close up. Drought conditions set in. At some point things resort back to the function, labor, and contraptions. When that happens, God’s people will be just like all the other kingdoms of this world.

The message I found flowing through the chapter in the quiet this morning was that the danger is not rebellion or disobedience. The danger is forgetting. Moses’ mantra thus far in his deathbed message has been the steady rhythmic beat of Zakhor: remember, remember, remember. Remembering what God has done is the crucial first step and activating ingredient in Life and blessing. Forgetting leads down a very different path.

“Believe me,” Moses urges his children, “you don’t want to go there.”

In a little divine wink, I’ve been hearing waves of heavy rain hitting the window of my office as I’ve been writing these words. I pulled up the radar. It’s a chilly Iowa winter morning, but well above freezing. A heavy rain is melting the snow from last weekend’s storm and soaking the slumbering earth.

In coffee shops all over Iowa, farmers sitting patiently through the death of winter and looking to the promise of Spring are smiling. A soaking winter rain. It’s a good thing. Gotta love it. But, it’s not a guarantee. Gotta have faith, too. Spring is still a long season away.

Rain is a gift.
So is remembering.
And faith, like spring, is something we wait for—but also something for which we prepare.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

“Because You Were Foreigners”

December 17, 2025 Tom Vander Well Leave a comment

https://open.spotify.com/episode/197CLi9z4WqJ7VPm9awLgX?si=39wNyYaNSOedb18SahiMHQ

He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the foreigner residing among you, giving them food and clothing. And you are to love those who are foreigners, for you yourselves were foreigners in Egypt.
Deuteronomy 10:18-19 (NIV)

I dropped my car off to be serviced yesterday. I was given a ride home and had a very enjoyable conversation with the young man who was tasked with driving me. He was raised in a very different place and culture and was obviously getting used to the quirks of living in a community built by Dutch settlers. He asked if I was from Pella.

I laughed.

With the last name Vander Well, I told him that he had made a safe assumption. Then I informed him that when I moved into the community over 20 years ago, it was obvious that everyone who was from Pella knew that Vander Well is not a Pella Dutch name. My great-grandfather settled in northwest Iowa.

I am of the third generation of a Dutch immigrant in America. I live in a community settled and created by Dutch immigrants. As I’ve studied the history of the great Dutch migration in the 19th century and the history of our community, I’ve discovered a double-edged sword.

On one hand, there is a lot for which to be grateful. There is a legacy of faith, industriousness, frugality, and pride. These are the foundation of an amazing community and heritage we perpetually honor and celebrate. On the other edge of the sword is self-righteousness religiosity, legalism, judgement, and prejudice. I’ve heard many painful stories. Individuals outcast and ostracized. Divisions leading to hatred and resentment. Outsiders unwelcome.

Welcome to humanity.

Moses is leading a similarly human people, which is why in yesterday’s chapter he reminded them three times that God’s choosing them and giving them the Promised Land was not because they earned it or deserved it. Quite the opposite, they had perpetually proven themselves stubborn, whiny, ungrateful, disobedient, and faithless. Which is why today’s chapter is so powerful.

God tells Moses to chisel out two stone tablets to replace the ones he’d smashed. It’s God saying, “Come back up the mountain. I’ll make you a copy of the Ten Words. Oh, and bring a box, an ark, to provide a womb for my Words.”

Second chances. Their brokenness and failure does not negate God’s love, His covenant, or His gracious faithfulness. He is going with them. He will live among them, smack-dab in the middle of their camp. He will fulfill His plans for them, work His purposes through them, and deliver on His promises to give them possession of the land. All this despite them being stubborn, whiny, ungrateful, disobedient, and faithless.

This is the gospel before the Gospel.

The chapter then shifts. In light of God’s grace and mercy what does He ask of His people?

This is the heart of God and the heartbeat of His Great Story. This chapter is what Jesus channels and quotes repeatedly.

Circumcise your hearts. This isn’t about religious observation, but about transformation of spirit that leads to grateful love of God and the tangible love of others.

Love God. Love others. Jesus said those two commands summed up the whole of the Law of Moses.

Then God reminds His people – again – that if they are going to truly love others they need to love the ones He loves. The orphan. The widow. The outcast. The foreigner. The immigrant. The outsider.

Moses is building on zachor – moral memory – that flowed through yesterday’s chapter. God whispers: “Remember your chains. Remember your story – your history – being foreigners and slaves in the land of another people. Treat foreigners among you with the love, grace, and hospitality you wished Egypt had shown you. Be different. Follow my ways, not the ways of the world.”

As I meditated on these things in the quiet this morning, I was amazed at how much it resonated with our current culture and headlines. Borders, immigration, ICE raids, deportations, foreigners, and migrant workers fill never ending news cycles. Ancient Hebrews. 19th century Dutch settlers. 21st century foreigners and immigrants. What goes around comes around.

Welcome to humanity.

I don’t control national policy. I live far from my country’s borders. But, I can take to heart what God asks of me. The very thing He asked of His people through Moses. Love Him. Love others. Especially those who aren’t like me.

As we pulled into the driveway of our home, I thanked my young chauffeur sincerely. I wished him well. He was from a very different place, a very different people, and a very different heritage. He was a fine young man. I liked him a lot. He’s going to do really well here in our community. We’re fortunate he’s here, even if his name makes it obvious that he’s not from around here.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Stiff-Necked, Still Chosen

December 16, 2025 Tom Vander Well 1 Comment

Understand, then, that it is not because of your righteousness that the Lord your God is giving you this good land to possess, for you are a stiff-necked people.
Deuteronomy 9:6 (NIV)

Yesterday’s post faded to black with me and Wendy sitting at the breakfast table naming our blessings and whispering after-meal blessing of gratitude. If I’m not careful, this chapter-a-day journey too easily compartmentalizes each chapter. While I love the rhythm of letting one chapter speak in to my day, I try not to forget that there is a flow to the text. Yesterday’s chapter and today’s chapter are connected.

Yesterday’s chapter and my meditations fit hand-in-glove with the Christmas season. My soft heart loves Christmas. Every day brings cards and photos of family and friends we don’t see often enough. With each one are fond memories and good feelings. Wendy and I have been watching beloved Christmas movies (yes, Die Hard is a Christmas movie) and feeling all the feels. Family gatherings are planned. I can feel the desire to be together, to name our blessings, and to feel the gratitude.

This is sentimental remembering. Warm feelings, meaningful memories, and full hearts that feed the positive emotional endorphins. That’s where I exited yesterday’s post.

Today’s chapter, however, channels a very different kind of remembering.

Moses stands at the Jordan River with this next generation of Hebrews gazing across at the Promised Land. They are about to cross over and take possession of it while Moses stays behind and takes his final earthly breath. They will take the land. They will be blessed. They will prosper. But, Moses tells them, there is a truth that needs to sink deep into their hearts before they set out. It is a truth so spiritually vital that Moses repeats it three times like Jesus asking Peter three times: “Do you love me?”

…do not say to yourself, “The Lord has brought me here to take possession of this land because of my righteousness.” (vs. 4)

It is not because of your righteousness or your integrity that you are going in to take possession of their land… (vs. 5)

Understand, then, that it is not because of your righteousness that the Lord your God is giving you this good land to possess, for you are a stiff-necked people. (vs. 6)

Moses then painfully and deliberately hits the rewind button:

Golden calf.
Stiff necks.
Tablets shattered like dropped china.
Tear-stained intercession that kept the nation from annihilation.

The message lands bare and unflattering:

You didn’t earn this.
You didn’t deserve this.
And you still don’t.

Which—oddly enough—is very good news.

This is what is known in Hebrew as zakhor—not memory as the emotional fog of sentimentality, but memory as moral restraint.

It is Cain remembering the stain of his own brother’s blood on his hands.

It is Abraham remembering the painful casting away of Hagar and his son Ishmael.

It is Israel remembering that he was a deceiver who stole his brother’s blessing.

It is Moses remembering his murder of an Egyptian overseer, fleeing for his life, and his years of living on the lam in Midian exile.

It is David remembering his adultery with Bathsheba, his murder of her husband, and the death of their first-born child.

It is Paul seeing the face of Stephen and all of the other believers he persecuted and had executed before he met Jesus on the road to Damascus.

It is me remembering my long list of moral failings. Failings that trace all the way back to being a five-year-old stealing all the envelopes of Christmas cash off of Grandma Golly’s Christmas tree and hiding them in my suitcase.

In the quiet this morning, sentimental twinkle-light memories get balanced with the sobriety of zakhor memories. Moral memory isn’t shame, it’s schooling. It’s not reproach, it’s reinforcement of reality.

All of this abundance of blessing that surrounds me each day? The blessing that is so abundant that I sometimes forget that’s it’s a blessing?

I didn’t earn this.
I didn’t deserve this.
And I still don’t.

“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast.”

Moses is channeling the Gospel of Jesus 1500 years before Bethlehem.

As I soak in a little moral remembering this morning, I find my heart humbled. Like the Hebrews standing on the border of the Promised Land, I find myself chosen, called, and blessed – not because of who I am and what I’ve done but despite it.

Sometimes the fog of sentimental remembering lulls me into thinking that blessing is an entitlement. Moral remembering cuts through the fog and grounds me in the reality of His grace.

As Bob Dylan sings,
“like every sparrow fallen,
like every grain of sand.”

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

The Story We Tell With Our Lives

December 11, 2025 Tom Vander Well Leave a comment

Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.
Deuteronomy 6:4-5 (NIV)

As my family’s unofficial historian and pastor, I’ve become a repository for old family bibles.

“What should we going to do with great-grandma’s bible? Anyone want it?”

“Nah! Give it to Tom.”

Yes, I will take it. The first thing I will do is look to see what it contains besides the pages and the printed text. When a Bible is well-used it collects things. Ephemera of all kinds gets stuffed in the pages. It’s fascinating what people choose to keep. Handwritten notes are often found scribbled in the margins. It can be a window into an ancestor’s head and heart.

In my Bible there is a photograph. I don’t even remember putting it there. I think it randomly surfaced and I just shoved it inside the cover of my bible because it was convenient in the moment. It’s still there years later. The photograph is of my daughters and me at the breakfast table. They are about eight or nine years old and are eating their breakfast. I’m sitting there right where they found me when they got up, bible open. I’ve been doing this early morning meditation thing for a long time.

Today, our grandson Milo celebrates his eighth birthday. A generation has come and gone since that photograph in my bible was taken. When Milo comes to visit, his room is across the hall from my home office. Like me when I was his age, Milo is a morning person. So, amidst my quiet time I will hear the pocket door to my office slowly slide open and Milo will slide up on Papa’s lap. Just like my daughters used to do.

I could sit in today’s chapter for a long, long time. It is Moses at his most intimate and loving as a patriarch of his people. Remember, Deuteronomy is Moses’ final deathbed message. Today’s chapter is a loving father and grandfather’s heart fully open and on display.

Moses begins with what is known as the Shema in Jewish tradition. Shema means “hear” in Hebrew. This verse is recited morning and evening. It’s sung, whispered, shouted, taught to children as soon as they can speak. It’s what Jesus referenced as the greatest commandment. Love God with all your heart, soul, (Jesus added mind) and strength. God is one – not just a monotheism – but the unifying center of reality. Nothing exists outside of His oneness.

Moses begins with the Shema — the heartbeat of Israel. Then, like every wise elder, he moves from proclamation to formation – from hearing to teaching. Moses tells every Hebrew to share their family’s story with every child: Slavery, God’s deliverance, the miracles, the mess in the wilderness, God’s faithful provision, and the gracious promise and prosperity of the Promised Land.

“Tell them the Story,” Moses urges his children, “So they can trust the Story.”

Later in his message, Moses urges his children to action: “Do what is right and good in the Lord’s sight, so that it may go well with you…”

James echoes this same sentiment in his letter to Jesus’ followers:

“Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says.”
James 1:22 (NIV)

As I meditated on these things in the quiet this morning, I found myself focused on two intertwined thoughts.

First, the Hebrew word for “heart” intimates far more than just emotion. It is the wholeness of my inner self. It is the union of mind, will, and desire. To love God with my “heart” is to let Him sit enthroned on my decision-making center.

Second, I recognized that there is a flow to what Moses commands. The words can’t get from the ear to heart or hand – nor can they can’t be shared with the mouth – without passing through the mind. Perhaps that’s why our Lord added “mind” to the Shema.

Ear —> Head —> Heart —> Mouth/Hands/Feet

Along my life journey, I’ve observed individuals for whom the word has completely by-passed the heart. They hear the word. It enters the brain as plain text, rules, and religious commands. The hands might obey in legalistic fashion. The mouth regurgitates the text in heartless, rote, religious obedience.

But there’s no heart in it.

The words aren’t just laws, commands, and decrees. When channeled through grateful and believing hearts they’re paths to life, abundance, and longevity in all that God is providing in the future to which He is leading.

Here in the quiet, I find myself staring back at the photo of me at the table with my young daughters, my bible open to whatever chapter I was meditating on in the quiet that morning. I find myself looking forward to the next few weeks and the next time Milo slides open the pocket door of my office and staggers in on my lap, my bible open to whatever chapter of Deuteronomy we’ll be on that day. I look forward to sharing the Story in whatever way flows in our conversation.

My mornings in the quiet, this chapter-a-day trek, isn’t religious obedience. It’s my heartbeat. It’s my spirit breathing. It’s nourishment for my soul that fuels my day. It’s my personal embodiment of the heart of the Shema.

And so, I will tuck the photo back in my bible along with the other ephemera that I’ve mindlessly collected over the years. Perhaps one day a great-grandchild or great-great grandchild will inherit it. Perhaps it will whisper to a future generation about the pattern God established through Moses:

Hear the Story. Trust the Story. Tell the Story.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Today

November 12, 2025 Tom Vander Well 1 Comment

But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called “Today,” so that none of you may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness.
Hebrews 3:13 (NIV)

Wendy made a quick run to Des Moines yesterday for a couple of medical treatments to help her with some stiffening and body aches. Meanwhile, I have been continuing to work out multiple times a week to keep my own body moving and avoid some of the natural effects of age.

“This whole getting older thing is for the birds!” Wendy exclaimed yesterday as we commiserated.

Indeed, it is. Our physical well-being requires more daily attention than ever.

In today’s chapter, the author of Hebrews continues his message to the weary, persecuted believers of the first century. His message has been laser focused on Jesus. In the first chapter Jesus was the celestial Creator exalted above the angels and all heavenly beings. In the second chapter, Jesus was the humble servant – God made human – who understands our suffering.

Today’s chapter begins with the author making the point that Jesus was greater than Moses. For the Jewish believers, this was a crucial truth. In Jewish tradition, no one was greater than Moses. The end of Torah states:

“Since then, no prophet has risen in Israel like Moses, whom the Lord knew face to face, who did all those signs and wonders the Lord sent him to do in Egypt—to Pharaoh and to all his officials and to his whole land. For no one has ever shown the mighty power or performed the awesome deeds that Moses did in the sight of all Israel.”
Deuteronomy 34:10-12 (NIV)

Moses was “faithful in God’s house,” the author says, but Jesus “made the house.” And now? “We are the house.” God’s house is no longer bricks-and-mortar, it’s flesh-and-blood. He then warns the weary and persecuted believers against the very thing that their ancestors experienced in their wilderness wanderings with Moses: allowing their hearts to get hard and giving up on faith.

The Greek word the author uses for the “hardening” of hearts is sklērynē and it’s the root of our English word “sclerosis.” Literally, a stiffening. The antidote for this spiritual stiffening that leads to loss of faith is daily encouragement. He even quotes Psalm 95 to add emphasis on “Today.”

“Today” you need to encourage one another.
“Today” you need spiritual exercise to keep from getting stiff.
“Today” you need to “fix your thoughts on Jesus.”

Spiritual well-being requires daily attention to avoid hardening of the heart, the same way that daily attention is necessary to avoid sclerosis of the joints and muscles in my physical body.

Today’s chapter whispers a simple but fierce truth to me in the quiet this morning: Faithfulness is a daily choice. Every “today” is an invitation to trust again, to soften again, to listen again. My spirit calcifies easily—through disappointment, cynicism, habit—but Christ keeps calling to me: “Come, enter my rest.”

Encouragement is holy work. Each word of grace I speak may soften another’s heart just enough to keep faith alive another day. We build God’s house one tender faithful act of kindness at a time.

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Chapter-a-Day

Boundary Stones

September 16, 2025 Tom Vander Well Leave a comment

“The Lord said to Moses,“Command the Israelites and say to them: ‘When you enter Canaan, the land that will be allotted to you as an inheritance is to have these boundaries…”
Numbers 34:1-2 (NIV)

For a brief period season in my college years I worked as an abstractor. An abstract is a legal record of the history of a plot of land. For most people it’s a whole lot of indecipherable legalese, but it’s a necessary part of lawfully setting and keeping boundaries. And, in some cases when you learn to read through the legalese you can learn all sorts of interesting tidbits about the history of a property, the people who owned it, what was built on it, how it may have been contested, and how it changed hands through the generations.

As we get near the end of this chapter-a-day trek through the book of Numbers we run into some classically boring chapters. Today’s chapter is one of those. Moses and the Hebrew tribes are making preparations to enter the Promised Land, and God through Moses lays out instructions for the boundaries and how to allot land to the tribes and their families. In essence, God is being an ancient abstractor. The process isn’t willy-nilly. It’s not a situation in which the most powerful get whatever they can take and maintain. The process is orderly and structured so as to create equitable allotments and boundaries in which every family and every tribe can find protection, build fruitful lives, and flourish.

As I meditated on this in the quiet this morning, I was reminded of a season of my own life journey in which everything fell apart. When you go through a divorce life can seem like boundaries are erased. Everything moves and shifts, what was once established is now contested and negotiated. All parties in the family both nuclear and extended get pulled into the ripple effects of the boundary lines of family and life shifting. It is not a pleasant experience even when it is a relatively mutual parting of ways.

In the wake of this season, I had a prophetic friend who had received a word for me from the Holy Spirit. It’s written down. I still have it:

“I saw like in Ireland they have those, those stones where they mark “this is the edge of my property.” I saw that those stones had been burned, that they’d been turned down, they’d been removed in your life. And the Father said, “This is the season. I’m going to restore all the boundaries, all the things that I’ve designed for you to walk in.”

Boundary stones and abstracts are good things. Having them means you have a plot on which to live, flourish, and be protected in a place you call home. Christian commentators through the ages have noted that while the Hebrews were given physical boundaries and allotted physical land in Numbers this was just a metaphorical foreshadowing of the spiritual Promised Land, allotment, and inheritance that Jesus would provide to every believer.

After all, Jesus told us that our hearts were soil and on that soil things grow and are built. Jesus cautioned us to grow good fruit and to be careful how and what we build on that soil in our hearts. Jesus’ teaching provides boundaries intended for my safety, my security, for growing good things, storing eternal treasures, and building those things that will equally last for eternity.

Looking back, I can testify that my prophetic friend channeled a good Word from God’s Spirit. The boundary stones were re-established and restored. Within those boundary stones God has blessed me and I have flourished in ways that I once thought were simply not possible.

I hear the Psalmists words echo in my heart this morning:

“Your boundary lines mark out pleasant places for me. Indeed, my inheritance is something beautiful.”
Psalm 16:6 (GW)

If you know anyone who might be encouraged by today’s post, please share.

Wayfarer

Tag Archives: Moses

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Just another wayfarer on life's journey, headed for Home. I'm carrying The Message, and I'm definitely waiting for Guffman.

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Just another wayfarer on life's journey, headed for Home. I'm carrying The Message, and I'm definitely waiting for Guffman.