Man of God
They call me a "man of God." Whether I am or not, I don't know. I simply know that I've done the best I know how to be faithful to God, to do what God called me to do. But I'm not really comfortable with that title, because I've made my fair share of mistakes, too.
My mother certainly thought I was something special. She rescued me, you know, from the law that ordered all Hebrew baby boys to be murdered. Government-sponsored genocide. She hid me, and before I was old enough to start making too much noise, she floated me down the river in a basket. I don't know if she expected me to survive or not, but I did, and was found by the Pharaoh's daughter, who sent me back to my mother to be cared for (at my sister's suggestion). Mom would often tell me that story, and remind me I was special. "God has something in store for you, Moses."
I didn't feel very special growing up. When I was old enough, I was taken back to the Pharaoh's daughter and raised in the royal court. There, I always felt like an outcast. I wasn't Egyptian; that much was obvious. And the other boys weren't always sure they wanted anything to do with me. But my Egyptian mom kept encouraging me. "Moses, the gods brought you to me for a reason. There is something special in store for you."
And I think she really believed that—until the day I saw one of the soldiers beating a Hebrew, one of my own people. Yes, I had always known I was a Hebrew, but I had kept my anger and my identity under tight control. Until that day. That day, for some reason, I snapped.
I killed the soldier.
Standing there, looking at his body in the sand, I was terrified. What had I done? Who knew? Who would tell? What would they do to me? Would "royal immunity" do me any good now? I didn't know the answers, so I ran. I didn't even tell my Egyptian mom where I was going. I just ran as far away as I could, all the time hearing the voices of both moms in my head: "There's something special about you, Moses."
After a time, I sort of forgot about Egypt. I became a desert rat. I married a beautiful woman and took to tending flocks. Every once in a while, I would think back to my life in the palace, but in many ways, I was much more comfortable in the desert. Of course, there was always that cloud hanging over my head, the fear that my past would one day catch up with me.
And then it did, but not in the way I thought it would. One day, I was tending the flocks when I saw the strangest thing. There was a bush on fire. Well, that wasn't unusual. Fires often erupted in the heat and the dryness out here in Sinai. The strange part was that the bush was burning, but it wasn't burning. You know what I mean? It was on fire, but it wasn't being destroyed. Then the Voice spoke to me. "Moses! Take off your shoes! This is holy ground."
I don't know about you, but I'm not in the habit of obeying bushes. (Of course, I'm also not in the habit of hearing voices coming out of bushes!) But this one I obeyed. Something in my spirit sensed there was more to this. Well, okay, you probably know by now. God was speaking through the bush. And God told me to go back to Egypt and rescue my people the Hebrews. I had all sorts of excuses...but the bottom line is that I didn't want to go. I knew what probably waited for me back in Egypt. And yet, I heard my mom's voice: "There's something special God has planned for you, Moses." Something special—like rescuing people from slavery?
So I went to tell my wife that we were headed to my homeland. And maybe it's what happened next that shaped me more than anything else in my life.
My mother certainly thought I was something special. She rescued me, you know, from the law that ordered all Hebrew baby boys to be murdered. Government-sponsored genocide. She hid me, and before I was old enough to start making too much noise, she floated me down the river in a basket. I don't know if she expected me to survive or not, but I did, and was found by the Pharaoh's daughter, who sent me back to my mother to be cared for (at my sister's suggestion). Mom would often tell me that story, and remind me I was special. "God has something in store for you, Moses."
I didn't feel very special growing up. When I was old enough, I was taken back to the Pharaoh's daughter and raised in the royal court. There, I always felt like an outcast. I wasn't Egyptian; that much was obvious. And the other boys weren't always sure they wanted anything to do with me. But my Egyptian mom kept encouraging me. "Moses, the gods brought you to me for a reason. There is something special in store for you."
And I think she really believed that—until the day I saw one of the soldiers beating a Hebrew, one of my own people. Yes, I had always known I was a Hebrew, but I had kept my anger and my identity under tight control. Until that day. That day, for some reason, I snapped.
I killed the soldier.
Standing there, looking at his body in the sand, I was terrified. What had I done? Who knew? Who would tell? What would they do to me? Would "royal immunity" do me any good now? I didn't know the answers, so I ran. I didn't even tell my Egyptian mom where I was going. I just ran as far away as I could, all the time hearing the voices of both moms in my head: "There's something special about you, Moses."
After a time, I sort of forgot about Egypt. I became a desert rat. I married a beautiful woman and took to tending flocks. Every once in a while, I would think back to my life in the palace, but in many ways, I was much more comfortable in the desert. Of course, there was always that cloud hanging over my head, the fear that my past would one day catch up with me.
And then it did, but not in the way I thought it would. One day, I was tending the flocks when I saw the strangest thing. There was a bush on fire. Well, that wasn't unusual. Fires often erupted in the heat and the dryness out here in Sinai. The strange part was that the bush was burning, but it wasn't burning. You know what I mean? It was on fire, but it wasn't being destroyed. Then the Voice spoke to me. "Moses! Take off your shoes! This is holy ground."
I don't know about you, but I'm not in the habit of obeying bushes. (Of course, I'm also not in the habit of hearing voices coming out of bushes!) But this one I obeyed. Something in my spirit sensed there was more to this. Well, okay, you probably know by now. God was speaking through the bush. And God told me to go back to Egypt and rescue my people the Hebrews. I had all sorts of excuses...but the bottom line is that I didn't want to go. I knew what probably waited for me back in Egypt. And yet, I heard my mom's voice: "There's something special God has planned for you, Moses." Something special—like rescuing people from slavery?
So I went to tell my wife that we were headed to my homeland. And maybe it's what happened next that shaped me more than anything else in my life.
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| "The Burning Bush," St. Catherine's Monastery, Sinai, Egypt - June 2012 |
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