Morning Rounds and Evening Musings

"This is my name forever,
the name you shall call me
from generation to generation.

It would be nice, wouldn’t it? A burning bush, I mean. With God in it. Telling you exactly what to do. In a world where God so often seems hidden, so absent, so far away, a burning bush might be just the thing the world needs—let’s be honest, just the thing I need—to be convinced. Convinced that there really is a God. Convinced that God really has something for me to do. Convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that I could know what God is up to, who God is, and what to do with my life.

It was enough for Moses. It was enough to bring liberation to the Israelites from slavery. What could be better than hearing God tell you in plain words the task that lay ahead? What could be clearer than traveling through the wilderness with God guiding in the fire and the cloud? It would be kind of hard to miss God at that point, right? It seems that the Israelites, and Moses, had it easy.

What I would give for a burning bush right now as I’m bumbling my way through seminary, without a clue as to what comes next. It would be nice to have a cloud guiding me down the path, a voice out of the fire, a miraculous natural phenomenon to get my attention and erase my doubts about my uncertain vocational path.

And beyond the personal, vocational level, it would be nice to have a burning bush to consult in matters of morality, when taking sides on a controversial issue. Wouldn’t it be easier to act, easier to make decisions if only God would show up, trumping the confusion? Surely Moses’ brave confrontation with Pharaoh would have been impossible without the burning bush—who would attempt such a thing by their own initiative? How else could Moses and the Israelites know that what they were doing was God’s work and God’s will?

Clearly I was born in the wrong generation, in a time when burning bushes and clouds of fire and smoke no longer appear. A time when God prefers to keep hidden—and to keep the plans God has in store for me, for you and for our world clouded with mystery, not clarity.

With a call as clear as Moses’ surely none of us could go wrong. Moses didn’t go wrong. He heard God say “I’m your God! Go!” And he went, right?

Well, maybe not quite.

There were a couple of objections and a little bit of confusion. It seems that seeing a bush full of fire and not burning, and then hearing a voice come out of it is harder to discern as God than one might think. Or at least it was for Moses, who decided to go a little closer to figure out what was going on only to hear a voice call his name. Of course, it doesn’t take long before the sandals come off and Moses, being a pretty observant kid, figures out who’s talking to him. Suddenly he feels less curious about being called to by a very intelligent and miraculous bush and a little more…terrified.

And then, even once he gets his wits about him, and gets that clear and direct word from God about what he is to do, where he is to go and the task that lay before him, there are the objections. “But, who am I?” “But they’ll think I’m crazy and won’t know that you’re the one involved in all this—what am I supposed to tell them?” “Besides, I’m not a good speaker.”

Over and over again, God endures these objections, and even answers them. God goes with Moses, sends him along with the power of God’s name—the “I AM” will go with him. God will do through Moses what God intends to do for Israel—liberate and free them from oppression and slavery. But not without a fair amount of risk on Moses’ part.

All of this makes me think that maybe following God wasn’t as easy for Moses as I would like to think. And let’s not even talk about the Israelites after their liberation, complaining that it was better before God intervened, unable to be satisfied with manna from heaven even though God was with them the whole way in a cloud and in fire.

But, of course, none of this—none of our doubt or objection or weakness in the face of what God calls us to do—none of it is news to God. And that’s why we have the story of the burning bush in the first place. See, this story wasn’t written for Moses, to help him interpret his experience with God in the bush. And it wasn’t written for the generation of Israelites that were liberated from the oppressive powers in Egypt. This story was written much later, as a documentation of the stories of the burning bush and the exodus, the plagues and the Hebrew boy found among the reeds—the stories passed down by Moses and the Israelites to their children and their children’s children. It was written for the generations after these miraculous experiences. It was written for us.

In fact, it was not just written to be read as a friendly reminder of our history with God, or of the miraculous things that are a part of that history—though it does tell us that. This text was recited in Israel’s Passover celebration—part of the liturgy, part of what they practiced together as a community not to remember those miraculous events of the past or to get nostalgic about the days when God appeared in burning bushes and when the waters of the sea parted before them. No, this text is about the future. It’s about the possibilities of God’s redemptive purposes for the generations after Moses. It’s about the creative imagination it takes to see God when there is no burning bush. This text is subversive, one of our dangerous stories about confronting the powers that be when they go against the freedom and justice our God intends.

I wonder what kind of imagination it took for Martin Luther King to see God calling a nation toward civil rights for all people.

I wonder what objections Ghandi before he followed his call to liberate India.

I wonder what kind of fear the bishop of Philadelphia felt when he ordained the first eleven female priests to the Episcopal Church in the 70s, when everyone else was against it.

I wonder how hard it was for Nelson Mandela to see where God was in the midst of apartheid

I wonder about the doubts Rosa Parks had when she took that seat in the front of the bus

And I wonder what Moses thought to himself on the way home from that strange encounter. And I suspect the same doubts, fears, objections and difficulty in seeing what God was doing through him for Israel plagued his thoughts as he approach Pharaoh’s palace to demand the Israelites’ freedom.

Burning bush or not, it’s never easy to follow God. It’s always ripe with fear, scary. Because God’s purposes are always big. And because God refuses to take care of things alone—enlisting Moses in God’s service was surely a dangerous and risky thing for God too! For God to partner with us requires patience and courage from God’s end as well. For we all have a capacity for failure, fear, confusion—and great courage, imagination and faith knowing that God of the burning bush, God of the exodus and God of manna from heaven goes with us as God went with Moses.

Moses’ burning bush experience is ours too. From it we hear God’s voice to us—calling us to confront all that opposes God’s redemptive work in our world.

Burning bush or not, the question for us is the same as the question God posed to Moses: “Will you go?” “Will you follow me?” “Will you join me in what I am doing—will you be a part of my plan for redemption and liberation?” “Will you confront the evil regimes—the pharaohs of our own day:

The pharaoh in the healthcare and environmental policy system

The pharaoh of societal acceptability that keeps us from noticing the stranger in our midst—the immigrant, the homeless person with a sign on the corner.

The pharaoh of consumerism and of complacency

The pharaoh of violence and war.

The pharaoh of our declining education system

The pharaoh of our economic system

Can you see it? Can you see what God is up to? Will you respond to the voice from the fire and the presence in the cloud?

Addressing these systemic, huge problems seems crazy, I know. And dangerous. And maybe a little analogous to a shepherd in Midion approaching the king of Egypt with a word from the Lord.

Now go! For the God of your ancestors, the great I AM, will be with you.