Exodus 3:1-12

Setting the Scene

Picture this, you are out working in the wilderness of Midian, shepherding the flock of your father in law, the local priest, when you came upon a mountain known as Horeb, or Sinai, depending on your knowledge of the area. The mountain is of no particular significance to you, or anyone else for that matter, it just happened to be along the path that you chose to take the flock. It is just then that a bush nearby catches fire, startling you and the flock. As you fix your eyes upon the blaze, a flame within begins to take bodily form, and you see that even though the bush is clearly burning it is not being reduced to ashes. You instinctively respond by shouting “What am I seeing? Why does this bush remain?” A voice calls out from within, saying your name, and you are drawn to present yourself. “Here I am.” “Do not come near,” the voice says. “Take your sandals off your feet, for the place you are standing is holy ground.” Puzzled by this entire exchange, you wonder if you might not have been outside a little too much today. You wonder if this might all be some kind of dream. While still deciphering your thoughts, the voice introduces himself. “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” At this you hide your face, afraid to look at God.

Backstory

This interaction cannot be rightly considered without a proper view of what brought you to Midian in the first place.

You were raised as royalty in Egypt. But you knew that you didn’t fit in with the rest of the royal sons. It was not until you grew up and witnessed the Hebrews being oppressed, that you felt an underlying loyalty emerging. A remembrance of your people as you looked upon their burdens. A sense of solidarity overpowered your common sense and your fear of consequence and when you saw an Egyptians beating a Hebrew, one of your own people, you looked around for witnesses, and killed the man when you saw none. You felt no remorse. If anything, you felt a sense of pride associated with your willingness to stand up for the oppressed. It was not until the next day that you considered it again. But when you broke up a conflict between two Hebrew brothers, and asked why they fought with each other, one asked, “Who made you a judge over us? Do you mean to kill me like you did the Egyptian?” Panic ensued, the voice of accusation became the loudest voice in your head. Terrified that everyone would soon know, you ran away from it all. You ran from Pharaoh, your Egyptian family, and the oppressed Hebrews whose burden you longed to remove. You ran until you got to Midian, where you met your wife, and her sisters, saving them from the hand of cruel shepherds, denying their flocks water. Your heart for the oppressed remained, and in Midian it was honored by the priest, Jethro, who gave you work, your wife, who gave you your son and a home. That was a long time ago.

Return to the Scene

That was the last time you were as afraid as you are right now. The God of your people has met you in the wilderness, he has called you by your name and he has introduced himself. And you are too scared to even look at him. He continues to speak, “I have seen the affliction of my people who are in Egypt and have heard their cry because of their taskmasters. I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a promised land. The cry of the people of Israel has come to me, and I have also seen the oppression with which the Egyptians oppress them. Come, I will send you to Pharaoh that you may bring my people, the children of Israel, out of Egypt.” You immediately think to yourself, “Egypt? Did he say Egypt? Does he have any idea what I did the last time I was in Egypt? He couldn’t or he would never ask me to return and go directly to Pharaoh.” The fear you are experiencing in his presence is nothing compared to that memory of killing the Egyptian, but you still know what an unbelievable assignment he is giving you as an old shepherd, who is not well practiced when it comes to negotiating with powerful rulers! Your thoughts unknowingly move from your mind to your mouth, and you blurt out, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the children of Israel out of Egypt?” The way he answers, “But I will be with you,” almost tells me that I am asking the wrong question. It will really be him at work, and for some reason he is choosing me, an old shepherd to be his representative for some reason. He states that “this shall be the sign for you, that you were sent by me: when you have brought them out of Egypt, you shall serve God on this mountain.” Why this mountain? Why this task? Why me?

Now

Who of us has not struggled with these questions? Why here? Why this job? Why me? Who of us cannot sympathize with Moses in this moment. We have a view thousands of years removed, so we see the significance of Mount Sinai and the burning bush that opened Moses’ eyes in miraculous ways. We see the significance of the Exodus event, and what that allows us still as followers of Yahweh. The faith to believe that God can challenge rulers, bring plagues, part seas and deliver those who cannot deliver themselves. And we know the significance of Moses. A man who was flawed. A man who was old. A man who was not well trained or well spoken. But a man who faithfully followed Yahweh’s direction, shepherding a people, overseeing a new covenant, bearing the human image of the law, and presenting a type of the coming Messiah. Like Moses, we are often asking the wrong questions. Instead of why here, why this work, why me; perhaps we would be better served to ask “What work are you doing right here, where you have placed me Yahweh? And how are you calling me to meet you in this work?”

As soon as Moses really sees the miraculous burning bush, he cries out, and God answers! He calls Moses’ name, and then reveals his identity. Moses responds in a healthy fear of the Lord. God honors this response by telling Moses why he came. “I have surely seen the affliction of my people who are in Egypt and have heard their cry because of their taskmasters.”

God sees their affliction and hears their cry.

He goes on, “I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land.”

He knows their sufferings, has come down to deliver them from oppression, and bring them up to a better land.

New Testament Views