“Do not come any closer,” the Lord warned. “Take off your shoes, for you are standing on holy ground.” (Exodus 3:5, NLT)
“How beautiful are the feet of messengers who bring good news!” (Romans 10:15, NLT)
“These boots are made for walkin’, and that’s just what they’ll do, one of these days these boots are gonna walk all over you.” Nancy Sinatra
It’s been forty years since Moses had heard from God. He’s married with two sons, living as an adult with enough prestige to satisfy his tapped-down ambition. He’s highly respected among the Midianites, a people of the desert, with charge over his father-in-law’s flocks. This is no small thing, a successful shepherd with many flocks, with outlets strategically placed throughout hundreds of miles of sand or kitty litter, as some would call it. He would have been happier to own the flocks, which would come in good time. Waiting for your wife’s father to die is not usually a good idea in ancient societies where all property and blessings go to the eldest son. But in this case, Jethro had no sons, so everything would go to his favorite son, Moses, the hero of the Midianites for saving Zipporah and her sisters. Moses was a respectable citizen, and a successful transition had been made into the witness protection program.
It would also be fair to say he was not tuned in to God. He had failed regarding Israel. A suspected felon, fallen from grace, an old man living out his days. He was a failed fugitive from justice; he had a false I.D., a new name, and was happy to be out of the Pharaoh’s line of fire. More importantly, out of God’s line of fire.
“A suspected felon, fallen from grace, an old man living out his days.”
Moses was tending the flock one day. Predictably, it was like so many days before, with more to come after. This is the most common mistake humans make: we think tomorrow will be just like today based on yesterday. But this day he came upon the mountain of God, Mt. Sinai.[1] Getting close to the mountain of God, he discovered it is more difficult to fall out of favor with God than he thought. It is rarely too late to do the right thing, and God never forgets. The text doesn’t explicitly say that Moses climbed the mountain; after all, he was eighty years old. Then everything changed!
“There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a blazing fire from the middle of a bush. Moses stared in amazement. Though the bush was engulfed in flames, it didn’t burn up. ‘This is amazing,’ Moses said to himself. ‘Why isn’t that bush burning up? I must go and see it.'” (Exodus 3:2-3, NLT)
The unforgettable voice
Everything that lives burns. Moses knew this, and a tree that doesn’t snap, crackle, and incinerate had his attention. God is a consuming fire, but he doesn’t consume something unless he means to. The voice is twice identified, first the Angel of the Lord, who was the pre-incarnate Christ, but still before a human body was provided for his incarnation, present in this manifestation. But this was not known or relevant to Moses, because he was moving closer and closer, trying to get a better look. Then God called out his name, “Moses! Moses!” Immediately, Moses knew the voice—you never forget the sound of a voice, especially when it is God’s. Moses responded, “Here I am!” God warned him, “Do not come any closer. Take off your shoes, for you are standing on holy ground.”
Some of you, my readers, don’t believe in “holy ground.” Oh, you probably give the nod to holy ground then, but not holy ground now. The kind of space where you get quiet, where you don’t talk so much, where you are prone to listen. You may be one of those skeptics who laugh at the idea of temples, sanctuaries, crosses, symbols, candles, and stained glass. One thing we can all agree on, Moses didn’t stand before God with his chin up and a defiant look. Isaiah didn’t stay on his feet; the soldiers in Gethsemane couldn’t keep their feet when Jesus said, “I am He.” If a church gives you a place to kneel, use it; it is an opportunity to bow, take it. Annie Dillard told us years ago in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek to wear a crash helmet to church. God is a spectacular being who may bring fire and is dangerous to us all.
“Take off your shoes, for you are standing on holy ground.”
Back to Moses—he covered his face, afraid to look at God. God wasn’t his pal or best friend, he was Holy, Holy, and even more Holy. For us moderns, it means different, different, different—other, other, other—set apart, special, one of a kind.
Then the voice introduces himself, and with every word, Moses remembers who he was, what he was, and the heavy weight of his past. “I am the God of your father—the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” Abraham, the father of his people, the carrier of the promise that through him all the families of the earth would be blessed. In Isaac, it all continued, and then Jacob, whose son Joseph took him and his brothers into Egypt for food and protection. It all came tumbling down into Moses’ memory. His heart and head, his shoulders, and his body trembled. He removed his shoes, covered his face, and shook with shame because he was afraid and didn’t know what was coming.
The voice reviews his people’s suffering and his promise to them. They have waited 400 years. God had waited 400 years. His people cried out to him for that entire time. Not consistently, because consistently is not what humans do. Well, except to take care of #1, me, myself. A lot of living and dying can take place in 400 years. The United States is a mere 250 years old. Our memory of previous generations is two generations, in rare cases, three. Moses is being given a history lesson. God intended to take them from the Egyptian desert with its weird religions built around frogs and dead Pharaohs into a land fertile, spacious, and flowing with milk and honey.
“It all came tumbling down into Moses’ memory.”
You gotta be kidding!
It’s not going to be easy, and just as an aside, God mentions, “The land where the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Hivites and Jebusites now live.” Six tribes who are cursed by God and the sin of Ham. These are pagan societies dedicated to myths, cults, and ritual practices built around polytheistic idols. They were not likely to walk away from their homes without a fight. But that was the easy part of what Moses had on his plate. Moses was then commissioned by God: “Now go, for I am sending you to Pharaoh. You must lead my people Israel out of Egypt” (Exodus 3:10, NLT).
Decision time
Moses had not decided if he would answer the call. Contemporary Christians are under a similar commission given to us by Christ. We are told to leave it all behind and go make disciples of every people group, tribe, and country in all the world.[2] Billions have been called and commissioned, but only a few have answered yes. Most have rewritten or reinterpreted it and answered “maybe,” and some have said “no.”
Granted, we are protected by time and tradition from the full jolt of the commission. It is less real to us because we can’t see the suffering, pain, and loss that Moses could. But forty years in the Middle East backwater, Midian, can dull the memory. But surely, the burning bush, the unforgettable voice, should immediately consume such memory loss, doubt, and hesitation. Right?
“But Moses protested to God, ‘Who am I to appear before Pharaoh? Who am I to lead the people of Israel out of Egypt?'” (Exodus 3:11, NLT).
Can Moses be sincere in this? Is this just a normal hesitancy when someone is asked by the divine to take on an impossible task? Or is it something deeper? I recall Alan Redpath’s famous saying, “When God has an impossible task, he takes an impossible man and crushes him.”[3] Maybe Moses has forgotten his own story. The killing of all Jewish males at birth, the little basket in the Nile, with him in it! Growing up in the Pharaoh’s household in the lap of luxury, private tutoring, servants everywhere, prestige, honor, fame, wealth, strategically located in the heart of the Egyptian elite.
“Who am I to appear before Pharaoh? Who am I to lead the people of Israel out of Egypt?”
Moses became the impossible man, a fugitive from justice, an enemy of the state, a man on the run who had hidden from his pursuers for forty years. But God knew where he was, and as David wrote, “If I descend into Sheol, there you will find me.”[4] Moses was found and called by his name. God took hold of him and lifted him up from that muck and said, Soldier, time to stand up and move out. Here on the same site as Jacob’s ladder—that Jacob, the man who wrestled with God and wouldn’t let go—Moses is being wrestled to the ground and God won’t let go.
Assurance
God answered him, “I will be with you. [I will be by your side, I will be present, I won’t abandon you.] And this is your sign that I am the one who has sent you: When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God at this very mountain.” (Exodus 3:12, NLT)
God has crushed his impossible man; forty years as a shepherd will do that. He now assures him that he cannot fail at the impossible task. Now, just go!
It’s easy for us to laugh at Moses. What a dullard; he’s forgotten his own story, Israel’s story, and lost hope of seeing the actual liberation of his people. Yet, isn’t this the very same dullness that plagues us? Like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, we want to click our heels and go home. Moses is a real heel clicker; he wants none of this full-color adventure in Oz.
So, you are sitting in church, and the pastor has the temerity to bring this subject up again and again. We sit with a great buffer zone between us and the real events of the first century. Roughly 2100 years ago, Jesus told his disciples to “go” as well. Going would only be the first part, maybe the easiest part. Then there would be making disciples, the hard part, the part that will test your mettle.
“Then there would be making disciples, the hard part, the part that will test your mettle.”
To make a disciple, the very process means we would need to be new. In other words, we have to go talk to people, get to know them, and make it possible for them to be converted and changed by God. Then they go public by being baptized; then they will need to be taught how to obey and love God long enough that it takes hold. Then they will need to be cared for in a community of people of like mind. Then they will need to make their own disciples by doing the same. Disciplemaking continues over and over. And Jesus tells his disciples the most interesting thing. It is the same thing God told Moses: “I will be with you until the very end” (Matthew 28:20, NLT).
I’m not sure God will be with every person on a church roll. He might know everything we need before we know it and before we ask. But I do know that his knowing what we need might not ever get to us because we failed to ask him for it. I am saying that God might know us, know about us, know what we need, but he might not be with us in the way he promises to all who are fully into his project of making disciples of all nations. So, before you laugh at Moses, you might want to look in the mirror and consider what you see.
[1] Sinai simply means “To shine.” Like every mountain in the Holy Land, it has several names. Horeb, Jabal Mura, The Mountain of God, et al. It might be likened to Los Angeles, L.A., SoCal, The Southland, Babylon by the Sea, Hollywood. It depends on who you talk to.
[2] Matthew 28:18-20, Acts 1:8, John 20:31, 2 Corinthians 5:18-21.
[3] Alan Redpath, former Pastor of Moody Church in Chicago. Sermon given during his tenure.
[4] Psalm 139:8 KJV. Sheol, Hell, or Grave.
From Bill Hull’s ‘No Longer a Bystander.’ Used with permission.
