When we last met Moses, he was an infant, being rescued by the conspiracy of the Hebrew midwives and his mother.  He was taken in by the Pharoah‘s daughter and raised in the palace.  Between the baby in the bulrushes and the burning bush, Moses has experienced a turn of fortune. 

Moses is destined to become the great leader who stands before the Pharoah demanding freedom for his people, who leads them out of Egypt, who leads them through the wilderness, who encounters God on the mountain top and returns with the Ten Commandments.  There is no more significant figure in the history of the Hebrew people than Moses.  He is the descendant of Abraham who is destined to become the founder, essentially, of the great nation promised in God‘s covenant. 

After his dramatic rescue in infancy, his future isn‘t looking so bright now that he‘s been demoted to shepherd in Midian.  Moses has exiled himself to this wilderness place, because he is guilty of murder.  Having seen an Egyptian beating a Hebrew slave, he has killed the Egyptian and hidden the body.  Discovering that some are aware of his deed, he flees to Midian, where he immediately has the opportunity to come to the defense of the daughters of the Priest of Midian when they are assaulted by a band of shepherds.  Rewarded for this act of heroism, he is given a wife and the job of shepherding the flocks in Midian. 

Notice – before Moses encounters the burning bush, he has twice intervened to save people; once to save a Hebrew slave from death at the hands of an Egyptian, and once to save the women of Midian from a band of shepherds. 

The text tells us that God has noticed the plight of the Hebrews in Egypt.  But God has apparently also noticed the character of Moses.  God and Moses are about to share a common purpose.  The story we hear today is a classic biblical call story. 

It is a story about how an ordinary human person discovers God‘s specific and significant purpose for their own life, about how they begin to pursue that purpose, and about how God equips them along the way for the work that they have been given.

Our faith tradition teaches that we each have a God-given purpose in life – the word that is used to describe that is “vocation;” a word that has its origin in the word vocare, the Latin verb meaning “call.” That purpose is not restricted to the work that we do to earn a living, it is not restricted to the selection of a career, a trade or a profession. 

Moses was a shepherd by trade; the liberator of his people by vocation – by the call of God.

I want to be really clear right now before we talk any more about my vocation and yours.  I have never seen any supernatural manifestation like a burning bush and you probably won‘t either.  But I do understand myself as called by God.  Some of you know yourselves to have been called by God, some of you are longing to understand what God is calling you to do, and would welcome something as obvious as a burning bush to get your attention, and some of you would prefer that God leave you alone, and you are not about to go anywhere where there might be a burning bush.  That range of understandings should pretty well be reflected in any average population of worshipping people. 

In the biblical tradition, a supernatural manifestation is often utilized by the storytellers to establish the identity of God to the hearers.  When we hear the story, and we hear that a bush is burning but not consumed, we ought to be saying something like “ought oh! Moses is about to have an interesting experience with Yahweh!”

And he is.  First, God calls him.  “Moses! Moses!” In the story, the call comes through the voice of an angel.  For us, that call is often much more like a whisper in our thoughts or a suggestion from a trusted friend – but a call begins with awareness that is very personal.

Second, call is deeply connected to circumstances where the one being called is already involved.  God says, “I have observed the circumstances of my people…” And isn‘t it interesting that Moses has observed those circumstances, too?  In fact, Moses act of violence occurred defending an individual from the very circumstances that God is noticing. 

God and Moses have noticed the same thing.  Dr.  John Wagner, who was one of my teachers at United Seminary once said that our call occurs when our heart is broken at the very same place as God‘s heart is broken. 

Moses and God are both heart-broken about the circumstances of the enslaved Hebrews in Egypt. 

In God‘s voice, the narrator recounts the plight of the Hebrews.  God says, “I know their plight.  I have come to save them.  I am going to deliver them.”

Moses must be thinking right about now: “Great, wonderful!  Yeah, God!  You Go!”

And then comes the next word: “I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people out of Egypt.”

Whoa!  And now we come to the next consistent characteristic of call stories: protest by the one being called. 

God calls.
God names the situation.
God names the task. 
The one being called protests.

It is important to note that the protest almost always, in biblical call stories, and in my experience with my own call and that of others with whom I‘ve counseled, is about a sense of inadequacy.  Moses says it this way: “who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Hebrews out of Egypt?”

A feeling of insecurity or inadequacy about almost anything new that we are asked to do or accomplish is a common human experience.  I can remember thinking even in high school, as I began a new academic year that I would never be able to do the work in my new classes.  I was anxious about algebra, and chemistry.  And then, having survived those, I was faced with physics and calculus the next year – and felt equally certain that I would never be able to master those subjects.  But I wasn‘t required to know them.  I was being given opportunity to learn them – and teachers and textbooks were provided. 

This is not how unlike God‘s provision for Moses.  In call stories, God always responds to the protest with divine assurance: a promise to provide.  In this story, and in most, what is provided is God‘s presence.  “I will be with you.” But God seems to know that Moses will not always remember this in the midst of it.  The assurance is – when this is all over – you will look back on it and see that I was with you, and that will being you back to this place, where you will worship.

It is often only in hindsight that we see how God has equipped and provided. 

I don‘t know about you, but Moses‘ story is a little out of my league.  I‘m plenty challenged by what I have been given to do.  But the anatomy of call that is reflected here is helpful for us all.  And the significant truth in this story is around God‘s response to Moses.  When challenged by Moses – God gives this great answer.  “I am who I am.” Some have suggested that this might be phrased also as “I will be who I will be.” The Hebrew word used here is so ambiguous as to be marvelously inclusive.  “I will do what I will do.” Or, “I am what you see me do.”

If we believe that God is still working in the world, we know a great deal about how the great “I am” accomplishes the extraordinary work of saving and healing and transforming.  It is through partnership with ordinary humans. 

What is our role in this partnership?  From where we sit right now – in church, hoping for an encounter with the holy that will give us the assurance of our value, of our purpose, what are we responsible to do?

Our responsibility is to stay in contact with God, and then to act when called upon. 

Moses was invited to take off his shoes – to recognize that he was on Holy Ground. 
Holy ground can be anywhere. 

Think of the great reformers and heroes that we can recall.  Their Holy Ground was sometimes in a prison cell, sometimes standing on the assembly line, or on the battlefield, or in a welfare office, or at a political rally, or on a bus, or in a classroom, or in the garden, or the bean field, or an office. 

We are the people God is counting on.  We are not being asked to change our clothes in a phone booth and stop speeding bullets.  But maybe we‘re being asked to notice God‘s heart breaking over the loss of young lives in our city that occurs when a culture of violence and a ready supply of hand guns come together.  Maybe our holy ground is that place where each young person falls.  And our super human feat looks a lot like legislative advocacy, and prayer, and the teaching of non violence. 

We are not being asked to put on our superhero uniform and scale the sides of tall buildings or fly through the air or use our x-ray vision.  But maybe we are being invited by God to notice the impact of long work hours for too little pay and health care that is too expensive, and the cost that American families are paying to stay economically afloat, if they can.  And our super human feat looks a lot like voting on issues instead of the cult of personality and the rhetoric of partisanship. 

God asks for this: Deeply human acts, performed by faithful persons with their feet firmly planted on holy ground. 

Find your holy ground.
Let your heart feel where it is broken.
Work at knowing the God who says, “I am who I am, and I will be who I will be and I will do what I will do.”
God will come to you. 
God will call you.


Dare we say that God will be what we will do in partnership with God? 

You will not feel able.

Trust.  I am here today, despite the fact that every single Sunday morning I wake up and hear myself asking “who am I to preach the gospel?” I do not stand here today because of who I am, but because of who God is. 

Many of you know this: there is nothing more satisfying than work invested in the service of that which God has invited you to.  When you are doing that – you are truly, truly, on Holy ground. 

God is inviting you to partnership.  Maybe this weekly newsletter in your bulletin isn‘t just a newsletter – maybe your call to invest in being present to God is in here.  Maybe your call to partner with God in ministry is in a little announcement printed in here.

This is holy ground.  When we bring the offering, when we sing, when we pray together – this is holy ground. 

Amen.