March 23: The Third Sunday in Lent
There was a Jewish-Israeli boy born during a time of intense persecution of his people. In an attempt to save his life, his mother gave him away as a newborn, and he was adopted by a well-off, non-Jewish, family. Growing up, he was aware that he was adopted, and he knew that his adoptive family was part of the people in power who were persecuting his people of origin. He held this reality in tension until one day he saw a Jewish Israeli being harassed and beaten by a man for no good reason aside from ethnic hatred. Something broke in the young man and he reacted, killing the assailant then fleeing before being seen.
The next day, with a newfound determination to use his adoptive identity to help fight for the people of his ancestral identity, he attempted to break up another situation, only to realize that they knew what he had done the night before, that he had killed a man. If they knew, then surely others knew, and now he was in trouble, so he ran, and he ran, and he ran, to another country where he could start over.
With another stroke of good fortune for the second time in his life, he was found and taken in by a Jewish man who was a local religious leader, a farmer, and a father. He worked for the man as a farm hand, and married one of his daughters, and he reconnected with his own religious roots, meeting God in the midst of this new life, and following, reluctantly, a call to return to his people and to secure their freedom from oppression. It wasn’t easy, and it didn’t happen quickly, but through public speeches and private audiences and organized rebellions, he finally secured their release.
As with any time a people group are freed from foreign rule and persecution, it was a difficult road to rebuild their life, but the man and his family were committed to them, and he stayed with them for four decades as they caravanned around, re-established their community and reconnected with God. He died before they found their new home, but his life was never forgotten. And, if you haven’t caught on yet, his life was the life of Moses.
Moses’ messy but beautiful life, complicated by adoption, anger, murder, deceit; clarified by purpose, family, determination, and faith. His redeemed life, redirected at the hands of a merciful God who sought him out and believed in him, who never gave up on him, even when he didn’t believe in himself.
It’s a story we know well, in theory, but sometimes we lose sight of the stories of scripture when we hear them in bite-sized snippets on Sunday morning. Moses’ story spans numerous chapters of several books of the Bible, so it’s easy to lose sight of the summary of his life, a summary that lifts up how complicated he was, and how extraordinary God is.
Only two decades into his life, I would have considered Moses a lost cause. I wonder what you were thinking about him as I shared his story. He killed a man, and took no accountability, then just disappeared. A murderer and a coward. Not your expected spiritual hero. Moses wasn’t seeking out some grand adventure in God’s name either. I suspect he was happy with his new chapter, a beloved wife and a simple life. And obviously, he was fearful of God, the voice coming out of the flame, the one so holy he had to take his shoes off to approach. And he doubted himself, with the memories of his past and in light of his meager leadership experience. When God asked him to lead the Israelites out of slavery and bondage, out of their misery, Moses questioned his capability and his authority. asking God “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?” Who am I that I should be called by you?
This doubt of self and doubt of God is not unique to Moses. I can think of person after person, folks I’ve read about in scripture or learned about in books or known myself, who have questioned God’s call on their life, because they thought their past mistakes defined their future, or they thought they weren’t equipped for the job, or they would rather just have run the other direction and stuck their head in the sand.
Jonah, Isaiah, Esther, and Mary, Augustine, Mother Theresa, Pope Francis, and this girl right here. Y’all, I spent 10 years trying to be anything but a worker of the Lord, same with my husband Blake. There was a point in time in which I was dead set on being an art historian and he, a dentist, and we had no interest in a Christian vocation, let alone a career in ministry. And while those are both incredible professions, they were clearly not God’s particular call for us, considering we have no experience or interest in art or teeth.
It’s human nature to tremble at God’s voice, to resist God’s call to play a part in his work in this world of binding up the brokenhearted, and healing the sick, setting the captives free, and reconciling all creation back to him. Because of doubt of ourselves, or fear of how it will look, or distrust in how it will work out. It’s human nature to run and hide from the voice of God, seen at the beginning of scripture with Adam and Eve and the end of Christ’s life with Peter.
But the thing about God’s nature is that God never gives up on us. God’s nature is to seek us out, again and again, giving us every opportunity to witness his glory, and to hear his voice, and to answer his call with our three simple words: Here I am. The three words shakingly uttered by silly old Moses that changed the course of history for God’s beloved people. Here I am, the three words fearfully recited by all our spiritual heroes who ever said yes to God. Here I am, the humble offering of ourselves to the holy one, our incredible God, the great I am who I am…
Whose nature it is to find a lost cause and give it a new story. Whose nature it is to take what we consider a dead end, a waste of space, a fruitless fig tree, and light it up with Godself, a burning bush, a living fire, and re-imagine it as a new direction, a space of salvation, a fig tree that will flourish in due time.
God has never given up on his people, and God will never give up on you, and God needs you to listen for his voice and hear his call for you. Maybe it has been like a buzzing in your ear for years and years, or maybe it’s a been a slow burn in your belly, or maybe it’s a new and sudden burst of flames right in your midst that has caught your attention. Maybe it’s a small step forward with God, like a new season of listening, trusting, and holding open space to grow. Or maybe it’s a huge leap with God’s sturdy hand, taking on a new role, or leading a significant change, or sharing a gift that the Holy Spirit has uniquely given you.
God, I am who I am, the gardener of our lives, has not given up on us. When we could be lost in the wilderness or should be cut down in the vineyard, God finds us, fights for us, waits for us. All he needs from us is ourselves and our trust, our humble offering of Here I am. Here we are, God. Use us, we pray, for the good of this, your world. Amen.
The Rev. Kilpy Singer