Preached on the Third Sunday in Lent, March 11th
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It's what we call “the status quo” -- a steady job, a comfortable home, loving friends and family. Moses has it all. The years go by. Moses seems content with small pleasures and accomplishments. He never talks about his past or dreams about his future. He lacks any true passion, any sense of adventure. He simply “maintains.”
And then there comes a day, a day that starts out like any other. Moses gets up early and leaves for work. Off into the countryside he goes, leading his father-in-law's sheep. Hours pass without incident. The landscape is still except for the grazing of the flock. Then, in the far distance, something interrupts this tranquil scene. Moses sees a bush blazing! For several minutes he watches the flickering flames; then he realizes that the leaves and the branches show no sign of being burnt. The leaves and branches have not been blackened by the fire.
Perplexed by this sight, Moses decides to investigate. He starts walking toward the bush. Suddenly, a voice fills the air, calling "Moses! Moses!" The sound of that voice fills all the open, empty countryside. Then he responds, which, if it was I, it would be in a small and weak and tense voice: “Yes, I'm here.” The voice tells Moses that he is on holy ground and should remove his sandals. He does so, and then drops to his knees in the dusty soil.
The voice identifies itself: “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob" – you ancestors’ God. Now Moses falls flat on the ground, his face in the dirt. If he wants to live, he dare not look.
Childhood memories return to him, stories he heard of how this God had intruded into his ancestors' lives. He knows of this God from old stories, but had never encountered him before -- not in dreams or visions, and certainly not in broad daylight here on the job! Moses feels a thumping inside his chest. His heart is racing.
Full of emotion, the voice goes on: ‘I have seen the misery of my people! I have heard their outcry against their taskmasters! I have come to rescue them from Pharaoh! I will bring them into a broad land, a fertile land, a land where milk and honey flow. And you, Moses, will lead my people out of Egypt!’
More memories confront Moses. He knows Egypt. He was raised there as an adopted son of Pharaoh's daughter. Although an Israelite, he did not suffer along with his people. He was both an Egyptian and an Israelite-and yet he was neither. And, one day, we he entered the world of their oppression, and saw an Israelite – his own flesh and blood – being beaten, he murdered the taskmaster and fled Egypt.
Thinking he escaped his past, Moses married and began a family. Home and work kept him busy, made him happy. He forgot about his people. He no longer felt as they did. But now the God of his ancestors tells him to leave his comfortable nest, return to Egypt, and deliver his people from bondage. No more status quo. The God of his ancestors, in fact, tells him to become a hero!
Moses offers first one excuse and then another. None of his excuses can silence the insistent call, the voice from the blazing bush. God promises that God will not desert Moses, and that someday the free Israelites will worship on that very spot. God even reveals to Moses God's awesome, earth-shattering Name, God's Name as Lord of every age, past and future, and as the God who meets us now.
It's here that today's reading ends, but not the story of Moses, and not your story or mine.
Moses accepts God's call to him. No longer will he be centered on his own ego, his own satisfaction. Instead, his concern will be for the purposes of God, what God wills for the world. No longer will his life be safe, secure, and devoid of growth. He will give himself up to a life of faith, and receive a great reward. But remember -- bushes don't just blaze for Moses. Bushes blaze for us, too.
What are the blazing bushes in your life? A bush blazes when some person or place or moment reaches out to you, calling you insistently by name. A bush blazes when your life's glory and pain and challenge and patience and laughter and grief together speak to you with heaven's voice. A bush blazes when something demands that you put aside your mask, and live from the center deep inside you. A bush blazes when you take what action you can for others, and find in this risk your abundant freedom.
“Actions speak louder than words…” is the old adage that makes particular sense this Third Week in Lent. Faith is unrealized and unfulfilled unless it becomes manifest in actions of service, witness, and compassion. In other words, Christianity is not a spectator sport.
Jesus teaches of a fig tree, planted and cared for, but yielding no fruit, on the verge of being cut down. Sisters and brothers, I would not be honest if I did not address the “elephant in the room.” Last week, I spoke of fear governing our corporate life; the fear of “not knowing the future.” This week, we are challenged to respond. We live in the fear of being that fig tree cut down; we live in the fear of being closed. And, that fear leads to pointing… and even wagging… the finger. It leads to being paralyzed by an attitude of scarcity and negativity. It ends now.
Brothers and sisters, the “right hand [of the Lord] holds us fast,” as the psalmist reminded us this morning. God has blessed this place with many gifts and talents. God has blessed us with incredible space. God has blessed us with the chance to tell our story to an ever-changing world.
Friends, the “elephant in the room” is a blazing bush. God is speaking to us. Let’s listen!
