Why I Love God’s Law (Yes, Really!)

Hey, friend! Can I ask you something? 

How’s your Bible reading going?

Before you answer, let me go first. Last month, I fell twelve days behind in our reading plan and spent two solid days catching up. (Side note: don’t be like Portia.) I share that not to make excuses, but to let you know you’re not alone. Even the most biblically trained and disciplined among us can get side-tracked when it comes to daily Bible reading.

If you’re following along with Wonder of the Word, we recently finished Exodus, and this is typically the point where many people fall off the Bible reading wagon. The excitement of the New Year has waned, and, frankly, Scripture has begun to feel a little overwhelming. Our reading plan moves from rich narrative and dramatic rescue into laws, commands, and detailed regulation.

We’re tempted to skim, disengage, or quietly fall behind. Sometimes those temptations arise, not because we don’t love God’s Word but because we’re not quite sure how this part fits into the bigger story of Scripture—and it feels easier to check out.

Well, friend, my hope is that I can help you by pulling back the curtain just enough to see what’s really happening here. My prayer is that you will see why the law in Exodus is not a disruption of God’s grace, but a profound expression of it.

Why God Takes His People out of Egypt

Before God ever gives Israel a single command, He delivers them.

That order matters. From the very beginning, Scripture makes clear that God’s people are called to be set apart. The promises given to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob establish Israel as a distinct people—chosen not because of their worthiness, but because of God’s covenantal grace (Gen. 12:1–3; 15:5–6). Egypt, however, represents an environment fundamentally at odds with that calling.

While the opening chapters of Exodus emphasize Israel’s physical oppression under Egypt, that oppression is not the only reason God calls His people to leave. Scripture does not give us a detailed account of how Egypt spiritually influenced Israel, but it gives us more than enough to understand that Egypt was fundamentally incompatible with Israel’s covenant identity. 

One of the clearest indicators appears in Pharaoh’s repeated resistance to Moses. Each time Moses demands that Israel be released in order to worship God, Pharaoh responds by appealing to occult practices—summoning magicians and attempting to replicate God’s signs through counterfeit means. Egypt is revealed as a culture shaped by false gods, divination, and spiritual rebellion, not merely an appetite for oppression.

Moses’ request, then, is never simply about relief from suffering. It is about allegiance and worship. God is calling His people out of an environment saturated with rival spiritual authorities and practices that stand in direct opposition to Him. Even without explicit descriptions of Israel’s spiritual compromise, the text makes clear that Egypt, as a whole, cannot coexist with Israel’s calling as God’s covenant people. If Israel is to worship God rightly, Egypt cannot remain their home.

Why God Gives the Law

Though Israel is eventually out of Egypt, it quickly becomes clear that Egypt is not yet out of Israel. Simply put, the people of Israel needed more than a change in environment; they needed a change of heart. While in the wilderness, the Israelites grumbled, complained, and doubted God’s provision. By the time we reach Exodus 18, Moses is spending his days mediating disputes among them from morning until evening. Scripture doesn’t tell us the specifics of every disagreement, but it tells us enough to know that disorder and sin already exist within this redeemed community. That context matters and sets the stage for chapters 20–23 of Exodus.

In Exodus 20, God gives the Ten Commandments which provide the framework for (1) life lived in love and submission to a holy God and (2) life lived in redeemed community. What’s important to notice is that the Ten Commandments (while essential) are not exhaustive and do not stand alone for long. Almost immediately, Scripture moves from summary to specifics. Exodus 21–23 does not introduce a different set of laws; instead, it applies the law that has already been given. In other words, the expansion of the law is a more detailed expression of how God’s commands are to be lived out. 

At first glance, these laws can feel abrupt or oddly particular. Up to this point, we’ve certainly seen Israel grumble and complain, but nothing in the story appears to warrant such extensive and precise laws. The early portions of Exodus don’t record every instance of conflict or wrongdoing among the Israelites, but they give us enough context to draw faithful conclusions. 

But when chapters 21–23 are read in light of chapter 18, a clearer picture emerges. These laws were likely a response to the kinds of issues Moses had already been judging every morning until evening. 

By the time God provided the law, Israel was already sinful, disordered, and unchecked. The Israelites were not a morally neutral people; they were spiritually bankrupt and God introduced the law to address their condition. In this sense, we see that the law was not excessive or speculative but responsive to a sinful and needy people. 

It is easy to view the law as inherently bad or assume that God must be harsh, controlling, or impossible to please because of it. But Exodus tells a different story. The law was not given because God suddenly became strict; it was given because sin had already exposed just how broken His people were. In doing so, the law actually served as an act of grace. 

By naming sin and setting boundaries, the law restrained chaos, protected the vulnerable, and brought clarity where confusion and disorder threatened to rule. It revealed God’s character (His justice, His care, His holiness) and showed His people what it meant to live in a way that reflected who He is. Far from being evidence of a harsh God, the law is evidence of a God who refuses to abandon His people to their brokenness and instead lovingly provides structure, direction, and truth.

This is exactly the point the apostle Paul later makes in Galatians when he asks, “Why, then, was the law given? It was added for the sake of transgressions until the Seed to whom the promise was made would come” (Gal. 3:19). In other words, the law was never intended to save. While it can expose sin with clarity and precision, it cannot remove it. What we see unfolding in Exodus lays the groundwork for this New Testament reality and reveals a need that the law itself cannot meet—one that can only be fulfilled through Jesus Christ.

Why Exodus Matters

All of this is why Exodus matters—not just historically, but theologically and personally—to you and me. It teaches us how to read the law rightly, and in doing so, reshapes how we understand God.

As I’ve been reading through Exodus, Psalm 119 has been on my mind. Over and over, the psalmist speaks of delighting in the law and loving it. For years, I’ve read those words thinking primarily about Scripture as a whole—and rightly so. But the psalmist did not have the full canon of Scripture we now enjoy. When he said he loved the law, he meant the law. The Torah. The very portion of Scripture many of us find hardest to read.

Seen through the lens of Exodus, that love makes complete sense.

The law was never meant to be a merciless standard designed to crush God’s people. It was given as a grace to reveal who God is, to expose who we are, and to restrain the kind of chaos inevitably produced by sin. In God’s kindness, He didn’t leave His people in moral confusion or spiritual oblivion. The law showed Israel what love looks like in real life: love for God, expressed through worship and obedience and love for neighbor, expressed through justice, honesty, faithfulness, and care for the vulnerable. 

Ultimately, the law does exactly what it was always meant to do: it leads us to Christ. By exposing sin without removing it, the law prepares us to receive the grace that only Jesus can provide. He fulfills what the law could not accomplish, even as He perfectly embodies the heart behind the law in laying His life down for ours.

So I find myself echoing the psalmist when he says, “Oh how I love your law!” (Psalm 119:97 ESV). And I can genuinely say that—not because I believe I am capable of attaining salvation through my own law-keeping, but because God’s law shows me His heart, reveals my need, and points me to the Savior who meets that need in full. What a beautiful grace God’s law is to all who belong to Him.