THE OVERWHELMING PACE of our modern first-world dawn-to-dark rush of life events is not obscured from us. Nevertheless, we plunge on, day by day, week by week, year by year, driven by the tyranny of the interlaced intrigues of our choices. Our force of will has convinced our deep emotional need for shalom that one day we will get all caught up with the loose ends, achieve our dreamed-of goals, step away from all the frenzy, and find, at last, the peace and security we’ve been seeking. And in our shaky center, our core emotional needs have a symbiotic responsibility for prodding the will onward. And we do all this full-well knowing that we’ve created an artificial hologram of a holistic life, one destined to be torn apart by complementary/competing impulses.
We are not unique in human history. Lest we think that times were simpler in previous epochs, consider the historicity of the bible accounts. In these stories, nations emerge, rise, and fall. And in each period, men and women live out their lives in the midst of the turmoil of nations.
Consider Moses’ time and story. He lived during the rule of Pharaoh Ramses II, regarded as the greatest, most celebrated, and most powerful pharaoh of the New Kingdom, itself the most powerful period of Ancient Egypt. This was a complex age, and Moses was a central figure in the complexities in the biblical account. We think we know Moses’ life well: Thrown into the Nile in a basket by his Hebrew mother in an effort to save his life, he is rescued by a daughter of Ramses I, and grows to be a powerful figure in the kingdom alongside Ramses II. He murders an Egyptian for abusing a Hebrew slave, and must flee to save his life. (cf. Ex. 2:1-15) He spends forty years in the desert, but returns to challenge Ramses, leading to the miraculous Hebrew exodus from Egypt, the trials of the forty years in the desert, and lives to see all Israel poised to enter the promised land. (cf. Ex. 4:18-40-34, Deut. 34:1-12)
Now carefully ponder the issues of Moses’ second third of life – the forty years in the desert of Midian. He flees to the desert and begins a new life, one that by comparison to his life in the courts of Pharaoh is not without challenges, but seems idyllic. He marries, becomes a nomadic sheep-herder, and lives in the solitudes of the wastelands, far from civilization. He wanders, not aimlessly, but fruitfully. The pace of his life slows, his fears for his security dissipate over time, and he becomes normalized to a far different existence than he once knew. It seems so peaceful. Were we to stop here and gaze longingly at such a change in his life, thinking of our own, we might consider this an achievement of a penultimate goal. Tensions are gone, and a pervasive sense of well-being has been established.
Moses’ story now takes a turn, and it is instructive for you and me. Here it is: One day, he “led the flock to the far side of the wilderness and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush. Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. So Moses thought, ‘I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up.’” (Ex. 3:1-3) Everything is about to change, and the greatest change is in Moses himself.
This is at the end of his second third of life. He’s had forty years of mostly peace. But something has been missing, and the missing piece now becomes evident. God has a purpose for Moses’ life. He always has had, and this is the time. Moses just had not been ready for God’s purpose until now.
For you, for me, when is it that the sea at the center of our soul calms enough so that it’s surface can reflect the image of God? (cf. Gen. 1:27) For Moses, the busyness of the first forty years of his life took another forty years to settle into less frenetic patterns. It took that long for Moses to create a space in himself that God could speak to. Did Moses know that this process was happening to him over time? Did God arrange/permit the circumstances of Moses’ life to develop in this way, so that in a destined confluence of human freewill with sovereign will his purposes could be carried out? These are questions you and I need to answer in our own lives.
In another period of biblical history, Jesus addresses this need. Regarding all worldly answers to the insecurities of life, he tells us, “your heavenly Father knows that you need them. But first seek his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.” (Matt. 6:32b-33) Similarly, Moses, in the third-third of his life has come to such an understanding: “Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom.” (Psa. 90:12)
We all know the answer to our business already. It’s to remove the non-essentials from life. This is hard to do, for we’ve built our insecurities into a web of consequences over a long period of time. The only way to find our way out of them is to create space for God, and this involves a process of deconstruction. Deconstruction may take a long time. It did for Moses. Or, it may be calamitous. Financial, relational, emotional, or health problems may intervene to upset the fine-tuned balance of our absurdities. We can play a part in this intentionally or not, but know for sure that God is playing his part.
Maybe we all need a burning bush. But it’s not enough that the bush burns. We have to have the eyes to see it, and enough wonder to force our will to consider it. ‘I will go over and see this strange sight.’
Q. What if I kept my eyes looking for God in the normal activities of my day-to-day life?
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