But Moses protested to God, “Who am I to appear before Pharaoh? Who am I to lead the people of Israel out of Egypt?” [Exodus 3: 11 (NLT)]
Things were going well for Moses in Midian: he was happily married, with a family, and tending his father-in-law’s sheep. Then God interrupted his comfortable life with a burning bush and a major task: free the Israelites. Moses reacted the way most of us would by questioning God. Who am I to do this? Who do I say sent me? What if they don’t believe me? He then told God he simply wasn’t up to the task. Not one to be thwarted, God responded to all of Moses’ concerns. He would be with him, provide the words, the proof, and even Aaron to do the talking. In short, God promised to provide and so Moses obeyed.
God sends all of us burning bush moments that interrupt our comfortable lives. While they’re not likely to involve an actual burning bush or freeing a nation from slavery, they are important to the people involved. Several years ago, I had a burning bush moment and, like Moses, I questioned my ability to respond.
My mother-in-law had suffered a mild cardiac episode and we were in a treatment room in the local ER. Treatment had started, she was resting comfortably, and we were waiting for a hospital room to become available. Suddenly, a young man on a gurney was wheeled past our room. Surrounded by paramedics, an automated CPR machine was pumping on his chest. As doctors and nurses sped past, I said a quick prayer for him. Not much later, I saw a young woman being consoled by a nurse. There was no doubt in my mind that this woman had been married to the man brought in by the EMTs. Clearly, the outcome had not been good and, while she’d started the day as a wife, she was ending it as a widow. This tearful woman was being given papers, directions to somewhere in the hospital, and some small solace before the nurse turned away. It was a busy night in the ER and other patients called. Sitting there, alone in her grief, she looked frightened and lost. Did she need someone to be with her? Did she need someone like me? Without a doubt, I felt God’s call; this was a burning bush moment.
Like Moses, I had questions and excuses. This was way out of my comfort zone. After all, I’m not a grief counselor, what would I say? What if she rebuffed my offer of help? What if she’s not Christian? What if I misread the situation? What if I got sucked into all sorts of family drama? Unlike Moses, however, I didn’t trust God’s call or His provision. I was so busy arguing with Him, I didn’t let Him answer my questions or ease my doubt. While busy thinking about me and pondering various difficult scenarios in my mind, the opportunity passed. When next I looked out the door, the sobbing woman was gone.
Rather than thinking about her, I was thinking about me! Hesitant to get involved, I thought of all the reasons I wasn’t qualified when I should have prayed for God’s guidance and trusted in His provision. Yes, I may have been rebuffed and told to mind my own business, but I’m a big girl and could have handled that. Like Moses, I didn’t know what I’d say but, rather than trust the Spirit for my words, I was overthinking the situation. This woman probably didn’t need relevant Bible verses; she just needed compassion and I have plenty of that. Along with my prayers, I had arms that could hold her, a shoulder on which she could cry, and tissues for her tears.
It’s my regret that I failed God and one of His children that night. I was reminded of my failure when, like that man, my son-in-law was brought into the ER by paramedics doing CPR. Because her mother was on a mission trip, my 21-year-old granddaughter was alone when told of her father’s death. Fortunately, a nurse stayed with her until a family friend arrived. I thank God for this compassionate woman who did what I should have done years ago.
Since that night several years ago, God has called me out of my comfort zone and my response has been better and quicker. Nevertheless, I know He’s not done with me yet; another burning bush might be right around the corner. Keep your eyes open; there may be a burning bush in your path today, as well. How will you respond?
Beware of despairing about yourself; you are commanded to put your trust in God, and not yourself. [St. Augustine]
“May the Holy Spirit give us grace to not begrudge the pedagogy of God,” wrote John Piper in the day’s devotion. A somewhat archaic word and not one I regularly use, I thought of a pedagogue as an old, boring, stodgy, and authoritarian teacher who never changed his lesson plan or lectures. Unsure what Piper meant, it seemed wise to consult the dictionary. “Pedagogy” comes from two Greek words: pais, meaning child, and agogos, meaning leader. A paidagogos was a slave who led the boys to and from school, taught them manners, and tutored them after school.
I still go online to read the newspaper from what was our hometown for over fifty years. Last week, it was filled with news about the events of Fiesta Days. With its Car Show, Big Wheel Race, Duck Derby, Beach Bash, Street Fair, Music Fest, Art Show, Parade, Fireworks, and Carnival (complete with rides and funnel cakes), the festival is one of summer’s highlights.
Several “Nancy” comics written and drawn by Guy Gilchrist have inspired my writing. Curious about the cartoonist, I was not surprised to learn that he is a Christian; that was not always true. As a boy, he was poor, lonely, abused, and searching for someone and something in which to believe. Missing a dad, he found a father figure in an unlikely place—television—and in a remarkable person—a radio, television and movie star by the name of Roy Rogers. When the young cartoonist was unsure how to behave, he’d look to the singing cowboy and ask himself, “What would Roy do?” He knew his cowboy hero always took the right course of action. Although Rogers was publicly vocal about his faith, Gilchrist didn’t know his hero was a Christ follower until many years later.
When written by Guy Gilchrist, “Nancy” used to appear in the comics of our local paper. The slightly chubby, somewhat mischievous, eight-year-old girl with the red skirt and hair bow often prayed. In one comic, Nancy starts with a litany of thanks to God for always being there, showing her the way, filling her heart, and giving her just what she needs before she even knows she wants it. “You are an amazing God!” she offers in praise before closing her prayer with, “Could you throw me a couple answers before my math test tomorrow?”
My summer beach novel began with a man having a heart attack on a commuter train. For the next several pages, I was privy to the thoughts of his fellow passengers who were annoyed by the train’s unscheduled stop for medical aid. Because they’d be delayed, they saw the man’s collapse as a tremendous inconvenience to them. As passengers disembarked to find another way into the city, their thoughts were not of the dying man and his wife but of themselves and how they’d been inconvenienced.
