From the Tent of Meeting to Christ Within

And when Moses entered, the presence of God would descend, and the Lord would speak with Moses “face to face, as one speaks to a friend.” This was not a religious performance. It was not a public display. It was communion—real, personal, relational interaction between a living God and a surrendered man.

What is striking is not only that God spoke with Moses, but how He did so. God was not distant, cold, or inaccessible. He did not hide behind ritual or hierarchy. The limitation was never God’s willingness; it was the posture required to enter that place. Moses left the camp. He separated himself. He slowed down. He made room. And God met him there. This has always been the pattern. God has never restricted personal relationship—He has only defined the pathway to it. Intimacy has always required intention, humility, obedience, and time.

That truth did not end with Moses, nor was it replaced—it was fulfilled. Under the New Covenant, the tent of meeting is no longer external. The glory no longer descends on fabric and poles. Scripture declares the staggering reality that believers now live in: “Christ in you, the hope of glory” (Colossians 1:27). What Moses experienced occasionally in a physical place, the believer now carries continually by the indwelling Holy Spirit. God does not merely visit us—we are His dwelling place. The presence that once descended now abides.

Yet here is the tension of our time: although God is nearer than ever, fewer people seem to recognize His voice. Not because He is silent, but because life has become unbearably loud. The modern mind is trained to move at relentless speed. Notifications, demands, pressure, information, and urgency keep the inner life in constant motion. Stillness feels unnatural. Silence feels unproductive. And yet, without stillness, we lose the ability to hear. Communion with God requires a pace that allows awareness.

This is why journaling is not a casual exercise, but a spiritual discipline. Writing slows the soul down. When we sit before God with a journal, we are doing something countercultural and deeply biblical—we are stepping outside the camp. We are intentionally creating space to listen. Writing our questions, concerns, fears, needs, and desires before God brings clarity and honesty to the surface. Then, as we wait quietly, the Holy Spirit begins to speak—not audibly, but inwardly, in alignment with Scripture, truth, conviction, comfort, and direction. Writing what rises in that stillness anchors the moment and trains the heart to discern God’s voice.

This practice disciplines us to recognize the “still, small voice” of God—not just in the morning, but throughout the day. The more we slow down intentionally, the more familiar His voice becomes. Scripture stored in the heart sharpens discernment. Stillness develops sensitivity. Over time, journaling becomes less about the notebook and more about the posture it produces. What begins on the page carries into conversations, decisions, and daily movement. The Holy Spirit converses with us inwardly as we walk, speak, work, and serve.

Morning communion is especially powerful because it sets the rhythm of the day. When we align our hearts with God early, we move through the hours already tuned to His presence. We are less reactive and more responsive. Less driven by urgency and more led by discernment. The goal is not to live dependent on a journal, but to live formed by the listening it trains. Moses did not lead Israel from strategy alone—he led from presence. His authority flowed from intimacy.

The danger for believers today is not that we deny God’s nearness, but that we neglect it. Activity can quietly replace intimacy. Ministry can substitute for communion. Knowledge can crowd out listening. But God has never changed His invitation. The inner tent is still open. The presence still waits. The question is not whether God will speak, but whether we will slow down enough to hear.

The call remains the same across generations: step outside the camp, be still, and meet with God. What Moses experienced in a tent, we now experience in Christ. The privilege is greater. The access is fuller. The responsibility is ours.