Exodus 3:1-6
Joyce MacKichan Walker
August 9, 2015
Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. 2There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. 3Then Moses said, ‘I must turn aside and look at this great sight, and see why the bush is not burned up.’ 4When the Lord saw that he had turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush, ‘Moses, Moses!’ And he said, ‘Here I am.’ 5Then he said, ‘Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.’ 6He said further, ‘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. The Word of the Lord.
In July, I spent a week in Malawi. I went on behalf of the Mission and Outreach Committee of this church – an adventure sparked by their consideration of a possible mission partnership in the region. I’m guessing that many of you just did inside your head what I did when we talked about it – “Remind me – where exactly is Malawi?” Malawi is a small land-locked country, tall and skinny – looks a little like a wrinkled kidney bean, about the size of Pennsylvania. If a map of Africa was projected on the wall behind me, Malawi is above and slightly east of South Africa. More familiar and much larger countries surround it – Zambia to the northwest, Tanzania to the northeast, and Mozambique surrounding the entire southern half of the country. Despite having an abundance of wildlife and tourist parks, and the third largest lake in the continent of Africa, around 2010 Malawi was reported to be the 10th poorest country in the world.[1] On one 2015 chart[2] – it always depends on what criteria they use to define these things – Malawi was number one. Number one. The poorest country in the world.
The mission partnership we are considering is with an organization that already has a five year partnership with the Presbyterian Synod of Blantyre (the largest city in Malawi)[3] and with Malawian villages. Villages on the edge of survival. Villages that need support in order to have the very basic needs – food, water and shelter – to say nothing of the things they will require, by any measure, to improve their circumstances – health care, education, and a means to make a living.
Our small group of pastors, ruling elders, and members from Presbyterian Churches in our denomination, all happened to be from Texas and New Jersey. We spent our days visiting villages already in this partnership. We joined them in work they were already doing on projects; projects that would empower the village to own and take responsibility for improving their chances of survival, and of creating more healthy, less perilous/on-the-edge living. Irrigating a huge field. Planting and fertilizing corn and squash in recessed beds that retain water. Carrying huge rocks across a precarious foot-bridged ravine in order to build a stone and cement structure which vehicles can use. We cooked a village meal with the women. We sat on the ground and talked with the villagers about their lives – their struggles, their hopes and dreams for their children, their daily challenges and heartbreaks.
On Sunday afternoon, we split into three groups – visitors and interpreters in each group – and headed out on three home visits. The leaders in each of six villages had chosen the most vulnerable families, and we had packed boxes of gifts for our encounters, after thinking about the things we would most like to know about these families and their lives. We were encouraged to ask them to tell us their stories, and we had been assured the families would be interested in responding, and in asking about our lives as well.
Our second visit was to a gentleman who was about 60 years old. As we walked toward his home, his oldest daughter hastily spread a large straw mat in front of the door, and brought out stools and low chairs. The former was for the women. We sat respectfully on the mat. The stools were for the men, who, in Malawi, should be seated higher up. They were lined up in front of the house, facing the women and beside our host.
The conversation began somewhat awkwardly, with brief introductions by each of us, including our guides and the Synod leader who were all Malawians. After a respectful invitation, “Would you be willing to tell us about your life here in this village?” his story emerged. He told us of his wife’s death, and the fact that no women, even older ones, wanted to take responsibility for his 10 children. As we listened, we located them sitting in a line behind us on the ground. The oldest, the daughter, was sitting with two very young children. I guessed they were the gentleman’s youngest children, but learned – No, they were hers. His oldest daughter had married and moved to another village with her husband, but her husband died, and she had no way to support herself. So she did what young women do in Malawi – she returned to her father’s house, to the only family she had.
The house was in front of us – a roof of straw, one room, maybe two? There was clearly no room for the returning threesome so they slept in the detached cooking hut. As he told us this, he pointed to it to the left of his house – a building possibly 4 feet deep and 6 feet long, with the remains of a fire in the center. “She sweeps out the ashes and uses this building at night,” he said. Pointing to the mat on which we sat, he continued, “We place that mat against the wall at night, over the large opening, since there can be no door on a cooking hut.”
The daughter was watching us intently and listening carefully. “Do you feel safe?” “And are you warm enough?” we asked. “Not in the winter,” she said. “I have no blanket, only a piece of fabric to put over me and the two children.”
“Where do you find work?” we asked our host, knowing that women did most of the farming. “I help out with little jobs when I can, but work is very hard to find. I have three bags of maize from the growing season, but the floods ruined most of the crops. I need nine bags to feed my family for the year. I think we will eat the three. And then I will die.” It was matter-of-fact. No drama. No attempt to gain sympathy for his plight. A statement of the reality he knew, and anticipated, and accepted.
No one spoke a word. We were sitting amidst an extended family of thirteen, surrounded by another 2 dozen young children and women, on a mat in front of a house in Malawi – on holy ground. We knew it instinctively. We were experiencing holy moments, and we were being called by a holy God.
I don’t know if that’s how Moses feels when he takes off his shoes. Moses is simply going about his business – taking care of his father-in-law’s sheep. Moses is looking for good pasture, not a God sighting. But he sees a bush. A bush in which God’s messenger hides, as a flame of fire. That isn’t enough by itself to catch his attention, though. A bush that catches fire? In the desert? Big deal. But this one doesn’t burn up. And that Moses notices! Catching fire? Ordinary. Continuing to burn after the fire should have used up all its dry fuel? Now that’s strange! The Common English Bible captures his real, even intense, curiosity, “Let me check out this amazing sight!” And God’s got him. I imagine I’m watching God watching Moses to see if today is the day Moses is ready to see something extraordinary in the ordinary. Will Moses stop long enough, listen to his sixth sense, react to his feeling that the ground is shifting slightly – just enough that it deserves his attention?
There’s always the possibility we won’t notice. Won’t stop. Won’t catch the slight variation in our environment that says, “Something’s up! Get ready. God is in this.” What God sees is Moses paying attention, catching the messenger in the act.
That’s when God shows up. That’s when God calls. That’s when the messenger’s voice becomes God’s voice. That when God uses Moses’s name, makes it personal, sees the guarded curiosity and goes for it. “Moses! Moses! It’s me, God!”
And God ushers Moses into God’s presence with all the rest of the clues Moses needs: “Don’t come any closer! Take off your sandals. You are standing on holy ground.” You are standing on holy ground. Moses, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” And Moses gets it.
We might think he’ll be excited. Wow – a personal encounter with God – how awesome! And it is awesome. But for Moses, it’s fearful awesome. Eye closing, holy moly, scary awesome. Moses understands alright. He knows what comes next. And he does what you do when you don’t want to know, you don’t want to hear, you can’t stand to think of what’s coming. He shuts his eyes tight, and he covers his face and he turns away. Away from God’s call. Because he’s afraid. He’s afraid to look at God. He’s afraid because he knows – this is just the beginning.
To acknowledge you see God or hear God or sense God or think maybe this thing that is niggling at you might be God – to acknowledge is somehow to allow what might be coming next to get to you. To acknowledge God is to let God in, to have to listen, to have to respond, to have to choose. Because God wants something. God wants something from you.
In a magazine article entitled, “Evangelism and Discipleship: The God Who Calls, the God Who Sends,”[4] Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggeman says,
“The mission is a human mission, with [God] cast in a crucial but supporting role.”
Moses knows the characters. He knows the stories. God calls Abraham. Then God gives Abraham a mission” – “By you all the families of the earth shall be blessed” (Genesis 12:3). Then Isaac. Then Jacob. Moses knows the characters, and Moses knows what is coming next is his task, his role, his part to play in God’s plan for the world God loves. And he’s afraid. He knows God will cast Godself in the supporting role. And expect Moses to take the lead.
Brueggeman continues,
“The mission is a human mission, with [God] cast in a crucial but supporting role. God offers [to Moses] to transform the slave economy, but only in and through direct, risky human engagement. … [God’s] role is to legitimate, authorize, and support the human mission by shows of presence and power that are only available in the midst of alternative human action.” “[God’s] role is to legitimate, authorize, and support the human mission by shows of presence and power that are only available in the midst of alternative human action.”
Moses is right to be afraid. As he stands there, eyes averted, face hidden, The Lord says,
“‘I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, 8and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey…. 10So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt… I will be with you…’” (Exodus 3:7-8, 10, 12a).
As Moses fears, God intends to play the supporting role. He, Moses, will be expected to play the lead. He is standing on holy ground. He knows it. His life will never be the same again. Go down, Moses, way down in Egypt land. Your supporter, God, says, “I will be with you.”
When you think about it, that’s what we get too. Holy ground opportunities. A job. The support of a loving God in the form of a promise – “I will be with you.” Oh, and one other thing. Good company. Not just Moses. Jesus. That’s exactly what Jesus got! Go down Jesus. Way down to live with my people. Tell them I put all of this in your hands. I will be with you.
“And Jesus came, and said to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age’ (Matthew 28:18-20).
Holy ground opportunities come. Notice. Go. Do. “I will be with you.” Love, Jesus.
[1] http://www.businessinsider.com/poorest-countries-in-the-world-2010-8?op=1
[2] http://www.cheatsheet.com/business/10-of-the-richest-and-poorest-countries-in-the-world.html/?a=viewall
[3] http://www.citypopulation.de/Malawi.html
[4] Word & World, Volume 24, Number 2, Spring 2004, page 126.
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