I am not. I am.

12/8/2025

Exodus 3:11-12

11But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” 12He said, “I will be with you, and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall serve God on this mountain.” (NRSVUE)

I am not enough. I am too much. I am unfit. I am not equipped. I am not. And it is true. There is too much evidence to argue otherwise. 

Moses, without even a hint of his destiny, is drawn by curiosity to the bush that burned without burning up. The flame that caught his attention would speak to him. A speaking shrub? A flame that burns, but does not consume? An unnatural spectacle placed just off his planned path … calls his name? “Moses, Moses!” 

His attention already caught and, then, the calling of his own name? “Here I am,” he replied. That I might so readily respond to a bizarre wonder. That I would so assuredly identify myself to an other-wordly mystery. That I would so quickly choose to engage, instead of studying from a safer distance. No, in fact, the voice had to tell him to “Come no closer!”

Significantly, there was still a choice. There was still a decision to make. “I must turn aside and look at this great sight and see why the bush is not burned up.” In the midst of his responsibilities, he made the decision to turn; turn away from his routine, from his task at hand, from all that he thought was ahead. All he could conceive would be expected of him lay bleating on this sheep path beyond the wilderness. Yet, he turned aside. Oh, mystery, let me have the curiosity to turn aside. Let me have the courage to investigate that which does not operate within the laws of this world. Let me have the wonder to move toward things I can’t understand – things previously beyond my experience. 

What bewilderment must have coursed through him. Is this a dream? Is this a danger? What to do with the sheep? What was this? “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” Encounter with the divine is not ordinary. There is far too much ordinary on most days for me to conceive of direct dialogue with the master of the universe. Yet, when my path brings me close to the divine, there are reasons for a different approach. 

This ground is holy? This is neither temple, nor tabernacle. This is the wilderness, Moses’ current office. Even more, this is not a destination, this is merely a distraction somewhere along the way from his planned “here” to “there.” Certainly, flames in a bush from which a voice engages him is significant. But, holy? Of course, removing sandals involves reverence, humility, and purity. However, there is also the very practical aspect of a shoeless Moses – vulnerability. A barefooted escape is not ideal. The ability to quickly react in this environment without shoes is hampered. Exposing your feet requires trust. As if the voice could understand his unspoken thoughts, it is only then that the voice identifies, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.”

“And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.” Encountering God on His terms rightly and consistently evokes fear. We have so domesticated our ideas of God and His service to us, few have experienced the creator of light calling from the wilderness of our ordinary lives. It can be terrifying to meet a force that bends the law of nature to His will. It can be terrifying for that force to have a voice. It can be terrifying for that force to know … your … name. 

Reassuringly, the God of Abram, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob relays that He is not far removed. He sees the plight of his people. He hears their desperate cries. He is familiar with their suffering. He knows what has been done by the hand of their oppressors. And … He has a plan. “I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians.” 

Good news indeed! This is much prayed for relief! But, this has to do with me … how exactly? “Now go, I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.” Awkward pause. 

But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh?” If you are like me, you understand the barrage of thoughts fighting to make sense of this directive. Me? Why me? I am given enough responsibility to … tend sheep. I lead wooly mammals in the badlands, not an entire people … out of slavery … from the grip of a Pharaoh! I am not trained for this. I have no standing. I am just a shepherd. I am not capable. I am not ready. I am not.

God’s gracious reply is not a defense of Moses’ qualification. Rather, He offers a simple pair of declarations: “I will be with you” and “I am.” Honestly, the latter would be enough. The Great I Am is behind this plan. But, that is not how God calls His people. The Great I Am not only stole your attention through unexpected fire, He then speaks the holy ground promise, “I will be with you.” 

God, grant me the openness to be surprised by your presence, the courage to approach the unknown, the honesty to answer your calling my name, the vulnerability of bare feet, the daring to consider what only you can make possible, and the abandon to trust in the promise of the Great I Am – “I will be with you.” Silence my I-am-not’s with the power of I Am.