Introduction

Last week, I wrote about the idea of walking with God—about proximity, presence, and how faithfulness is measured less by accomplishments and more by nearness. That reflection has stayed with me. But over the days that followed, another realization began to surface, one that reframed something I thought I already understood.

For most of my life, I’ve thought about God’s commands—especially the Ten Commandments—in terms of behavior.

Do this.
Don’t do that.
Follow the rules.

Commandments as Guardrails

Even when I believed those commands were good—and I did—I often experienced them as guardrails. Necessary, protective, but external. Something to manage. Something to get right.

But as I’ve spent this year walking more intentionally with God—reading Scripture slowly, reflecting, writing, and allowing questions to linger—I’ve come to see something deeper:

God’s concern with sin is not primarily about behavior modification.
It is about proximity.

That shift has changed everything.

God’s Holiness and His Presence

In Scripture, God’s holiness isn’t presented as an abstract moral category. It’s relational. God is holy not simply because He is perfect, but because He is other—utterly pure, wholly good, and life-giving in a way that broken humanity is not.

That’s why God’s presence is so powerful—and so dangerous.

Throughout the Old Testament, we see this tension again and again. God longs to dwell with His people, yet His presence must be mediated, veiled, approached carefully. Not because God is fragile or easily offended, but because sin and holiness cannot coexist without harm.

A holy God walking closely with sin-filled people
would not heal them—
it would destroy them.

Conditions for Closeness

Seen this way, God’s direction not to sin is not arbitrary. It’s not about control. It’s not about image management or moral scorekeeping. It’s about creating the conditions for closeness.

Sin doesn’t just break rules.
Sin fractures relationship.
Sin creates distance.

And not because God storms off—but because sin deforms us. It makes us incompatible with sustained nearness to the God who is Life itself.

Realization and a Hug from God

When this finally clicked for me—after nearly fifty years of following Christ—it wasn’t just an intellectual realization. It was physical.

I felt a distinct tingling sensation throughout my body. The only way I can describe it is this: it felt like God was giving me a big hug.

And it was wonderful.

More of You

There was no fear in it. No condemnation. No checklist running through my head. Just a deep sense of being held—of closeness restored. And in that moment, something else became clear: if this is what God’s presence feels like, I want more of it.

Not more knowledge.
Not more accomplishment.
Not even more certainty.

More nearness.

Reframing Obedience

That experience didn’t make me care less about sin. It made me understand it differently. Sin isn’t dangerous because God is petty or punitive. It’s dangerous because it interferes with intimacy. It introduces distance where relationship is meant to exist.

This reframes obedience entirely.

God’s commands are not a ladder to climb toward Him.
They are not a test to pass so He will approve of us.

They are boundaries designed to protect relationship—
to keep us from becoming the kind of people who can no longer walk closely with a holy God without harm.

In that sense, obedience is not the goal.
Closeness is.

Obedience is simply what closeness requires in a broken world.

Living in the Tension

And if that tension feels unbearable—
holiness on one side, broken humanity on the other—
that’s what makes the story of Jesus so extraordinary.

In Christ, God doesn’t lower the standard of holiness.
He clothes it in mercy.

Jesus becomes the place where God’s presence and human brokenness can finally meet without destruction. Not by ignoring sin, but by bearing it. Not by redefining holiness, but by fulfilling it.

What God Wants: Restoration

Which means the commandments were never the destination.
They were always pointing toward a restored walk.

A walk where obedience flows from love.
A walk where holiness becomes life-giving rather than lethal.
A walk where closeness is no longer dangerous—but healing.

And that, I’m learning, is what God has wanted all along.

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Go Deeper

As a reminder, this new section serves as “extra credit” for those interested in exploring these topics at a deeper level.

Why Holiness Protects Nearness

If God’s concern with sin is ultimately about closeness, then the spiritual question begins to shift.

It’s no longer only What should I stop doing?
It becomes What am I carrying that makes nearness harder?

Some of the weight we carry is obvious—patterns we know are misaligned with God’s heart. But some of it is quieter and more socially acceptable: self-reliance, control, the need to understand, the pressure to perform, the habit of measuring our worth by outcomes. Might as well throw impatience in there as well—I want my prayers answered and I want it NOW!

These don’t always feel like sin.
Often, they feel like strength. Success. Getting things done.

And yet they still create distance.

Scripture shows us that God is careful with His presence—not because He is unwilling to draw near, but because He knows what proximity requires. His holiness is not opposed to relationship; it is the reason relationship must be handled with care.

This is why God sometimes appears to keep distance in the biblical story—not as punishment, but as mercy. Nearness without transformation would harm the very people He loves.

Holiness, seen this way, is not about earning God’s approval.
It’s about making room.

Making room for God to draw near without destroying us.
Making room for a relationship that heals rather than overwhelms.

So the deeper question worth sitting with this week is a gentle one:

What might I need to lay down in order to stay close to God?

Not out of fear.
Not out of guilt.

But out of desire—for the kind of nearness that feels like being held.