Exodus 3:1-22 · Moses and the Burning Bush
The Reluctant Prophet
Exodus 3:1-22
Sermon
by Maxie Dunnam
Loading...

Chapter three and half of Chapter four of Exodus is the story of the burning bush. This episode is central to the Exodus story, but we can get too preoccupied with the burning bush. Some would even want to debate the kind of bush it was. But that misses the point. As someone has well said:

“When God decides to make His appearance to man, any old bush will do.”

We are staying with the story of the burning bush again today as we continue our preaching journey through Exodus. In my last sermon I talked about a redeeming God and a redemption that is complete. Today we look at the reluctant prophet.

Moses was indecisive to say the least. Somewhere along the way I read of a soldier in the Civil War who couldn’t deter mine which side he would support. His indecisiveness led him to wear the blue coat of the Union Army, and the grey pants of The Confederacy. You can predict the results — he was shot in the coat by the Confederates and in the pants by the Union.

Now Moses knew whose side he was on, but he was reluctant to respond to God’s call.

Notice what has happened to Moses. Forty years before, he was ready to deliver Israel. He was arrogant and cocky. He slew an Egyptian and delivered one of his kinsmen from persecution. He thought he could deliver Israel by him self but now, forty years later, when God peaks to him he begins to back away. He is very reluctant. We don’t have time to address each of these excuses but you will profit from looking at them.

What I’d like to do is list a couple of lessons we learn from Moses’ reluctance and all his excuses.

The interchange between God and Moses does not end there in verse 14, where we closed our scripture lesson. It goes on as Moses offers excuse after excuse. Let’s look at those excuses.

The first excuse is found in Exodus 3:11: “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the sons of Israel out of Egypt?” We know the feeling don’t we? Moses felt personally inferior for such a holy and difficult task.

The second excuse is in verse 13: “If I come to the people of Israel and say to them, “The God of your father has sent me to you,” and they ask me, what is his name?” What shall I say to them?” We know that feeling, too, don’t we? Moses felt he had no answer or message to give to the Israelites. And isn’t that true with us? We don’t think we know enough, or that we’ve experienced enough, or that we feel deeply enough - we just don’t think we have anything to say.

Moses offered a third excuse. You’ll find that one on over in chapter four: verse I. “But behold, they will not believe me or listen to my voice, for they will say, “The Lord did not appear to you.” Now we get to a point that really touches home. What Moses is actually saying is, “Lord, is there any thing in my life that will verify what I am saying? They won’t believe that you have spoken to me. We know the feeling don’t we? We are always burdened with the awful fact that our lives do not measure up to our confessions.

Then there came a fourth excuse, Exodus 4:10: “O, my Lord, I am not eloquent either heretofore or since thou hast spoken to thy servant; but I am slow of speech and of tongue.” That’s our last bastion for hiding isn’t it? When we are urged to witness, to share the faith, we insist that we are not eloquent enough — we can’t talk easily to others.

Now having rehearsed those excuses of Moses there are two truths that we can learn from this reluctant prophet. The first I think will surprise you – because I have an idea that most of us concentrate on all the excuses that Moses made and really do not get down to the heart of the matter. So, the first truth is this: In the Christian life, in our response to and relationship with God, most of us do not arrogantly aspire for too much, we sheepishly settle for too little. So, we are onlookers to God’s activity in history — spectators and recipients — but not actors and participants. Have we forgotten the word of Jesus one of the most amazing words in the Bible. Listen to Jesus, John 14: 12: “Truly, truly, I say to you, he who believes in me will also do the works that I do; and greater works than these will he do, because I go to the Father.”

But there is a second lesson here as well. On the surface it may seem to be directly opposite from the first — but not so. That lesson is this: only when we know we can’t do it, can we do it by the grace and power of God. The bottom line of all this was that Moses was saying to God, “Who am I? I can’t do what you are asking me to do.”

That’s the point to which God wants to bring us that’s his way of bringing us to the place where we know we are completely dependent upon Him. It happened with David. David could slay a giant but God put him into the caves and dens of the earth. He was hunted like a bird and he found out how weak he was. Then God made him a king.

That was the case with Elijah. He was the prophet brave enough to walk right into the court of Ahab and Jezebel and tell them that “there shall not be dew nor rain these years, but according to my word” (I Kings 17:1). But Elijah was not as brave as he seemed. God send him into the desert for his training. Elijah drank from a brook and there was a drought that caused the brook to dry up and Elijah got the lesson. He watched the brook grow smaller and smaller and said, “My life is no more than a dried up brook.” He was right. Then you remember Elijah spent some time eating cut of an empty flour barrel. The flour barrel was empty, but every day just enough would be there to sustain him. He found out that he was nothing and God was everything, and when he realized this, God used the prophets of Baal and bring down fire from heaven.

Paul learned it also - over a long period of time, until he could come to the place where he said, “Therefore, I take pleasures in infirmities, in reproaches, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses for Christ’s sake; for when I am weak, then am I strong.” (II Cor. 12:10).

It’s a paradox - a puzzling paradox. But what God was teaching Moses he wants to teach us. Only when we know we can’t do it, can we do it by the grace and power of God.

How we are reminded of this in the Eucharist — our Holy Communion, which we celebrate today. Here is the foolishness of God shaming the wisdom of men; the weakness of God over-powering all of evil.

This is also the first Sunday of Lent, the season of a special journey a journey of reflection and renewal — when we meditate on the passion and death of Jesus, and seek to find that not only our salvation, but our blueprint for life. What is that blueprint? Moses learned it.

Let me call upon Vernard Eller, one of my favorite writers, to give us some suggested models for that blueprint. He’s a Church of The Brethren preacher and professor. One of his Brethren teaching colleagues calls him “that mad Dunker professor” because of his ability to put ideas in ways which capture our imagination.

In a very whimsical yet profound manner, he has described two very different models for the church and our religion in his little book, In Place of Sacraments.

One model he calls the “Commissary” a model for an institution which passes out graces from its stock on the shelves to people who come to it only when they have need for them. Having the need for the goods and services they come to the commissary with the proper coin of exchange to obtain what they need. Their only responsibility to the commissary is to obtain the coin so that they may obtain the “graces” — the goods, services, and benefits of the commissary.

The other model which Professor Eller presents is that of the caravan a walking caravan which is a distinct contrast to the commissary and which bears little comparison to it. The caravan, he says, “is a group of people banded together to make a common cause in seeking a common destination.” The meaning and the sense of the caravan is found only in its movement toward the destination - its following of a dream - pursuing the cloud by day and the column of fire by night as did the caravan of people who fled Egypt following Moses to the Promised Land. He says, “A caravan has its existence only in a continual becoming, a following of its Lord on his way toward the Kingdom.”

Then, Professor Eller draws another analogy. In discussing how the commissary church acts, he likens it to the Royal Vienna String Quartet. The caravan church he likens to a barbershop quartet. Both, he points out are dedicated to making music, but with the Royal Vienna the emphasis is on the quality of the performance — that it be perfectly performed. The emphasis of the barbershop quartet is having a “satisfying experience of singing” - that the quartet have fun doing it. The commissary church “puts great value upon the quality of its performance, whereas the caravan — which is the people gathered for fellowship with God - puts its value upon the joy of participation.” (Vernard Eller, In Place of Sacraments, Grand Rapids, Wm. R. Eerdmans Publishing Co., 1972, pp. 31 and 36, Taken from “A Caravan to Freedom” by Dr. Wayne A. Shireman, MSSI2—75, pp. 101—102, Cathedral Publishers, 1975).

ChristianGlobe Networks, Inc., Collected Sermons, by Maxie Dunnam