Exodus 3:1–4:17

Original Meaning

The Burning Bush (3:1–10)

THE ABRUPT ANNUNCIATION in 2:23–25 of God’s presence with his people sets the stage for what is commonly referred to as the “call of Moses.” Yahweh is indeed with his people, and he is about to show precisely how his presence will be manifest to them. Our introduction to Moses in this phase of his life finds him pasturing the flock of his father-in-law, Jethro.1 He leads the sheep to the “far side of the desert,” which piques one’s curiosity: Why? Is there a lack of suitable grazing pasture available near his home? What possible benefit would a shepherd derive from herding his flock a significant distance through the desert? Is it possible that Moses drives his sheep to a certain location because he himself is being driven by a higher force?

Of course, it is no accident that Moses winds up at “Horeb,2 the mountain of God.” As he was driven from his home to Midian in 2:11–25, Israel’s deliverer is driven further into the desert; he is to be prepared there for the task ahead. Even his vocation serves to shape his character. Shepherding was a common occupation in the ancient Near East, so it is no surprise to find Moses occupied with such work. From a theological point of view, however, the significance of such an occupation cannot be missed: He who will soon become the shepherd of God’s people undergoes training in Midian.3

Moses arrives near the mountain and sees an astonishing sight: a bush that burns without being consumed. The narrator tells us at the outset the significance of this sight: “The angel of the LORD appeared4 to him” (3:2). Moses is not yet aware of this, but he is about to come face-to-face with the God of his ancestors. The precise identity of the angel of the Lord has always been a matter of debate. The Hebrew can also be translated “messenger of the LORD,” which is precisely the role this angel plays. Throughout the Old Testament, this mysterious figure is closely identified, if not equated, with Yahweh himself. We see this already in verse 4: “The LORD saw. . . .” Obviously, there is a close identity between these two.

Nevertheless, it is best not to think of the two figures as simply equated. We should see this in the context of the ancient Near East, where messengers normally spoke for the sender. We see this phenomenon throughout the prophetic writings of the Old Testament. When the prophets brought God’s message to Israel, they typically spoke for God in the first person; e.g., “The LORD said, ‘I am bringing a nation against you,’” rather than, “The LORD said that he is bringing a nation against you.” Simply equating the angel of the Lord with Yahweh tends to obliterate the clear fact that they are presented as two distinct figures in the Old Testament.5

These two, then, are to be identified in some sense, yet they are distinct from each other. This close relationship has led many to suggest that the angel of the Lord is an Old Testament manifestation of the incarnate Christ. This notion is worth considering. It is, if anything, certainly true from a theological point of view. The notion of the close relationship in the Old Testament between the messenger/angel of the Lord and Yahweh himself is something that is fully manifested in the person of Christ, who is both one with the Father yet distinct from him as the second person of the Trinity. This not to say, however, that the angel of the Lord is a preincarnate manifestation of Christ. Rather, the angel of the Lord foreshadows Christ in the same way that Moses, the priesthood, or the sacrificial system do (see Heb. 3:1–6; 8:1–10:18). In the final analysis, the angel of the Lord remains a mysterious but prominent figure in the context of God’s self-revelation to his people, and his role is ultimately fulfilled in Christ.

Another common element that regularly accompanies God’s self-revelation is fire, seen here in the bush. Fire is a frequent sign of God’s presence in Exodus (13:21; 19:18; 24:17; cf. Gen. 15:17; Ezek. 1:27; 8:2). Various explanations have been suggested for why this is the case. Philo, for example, offers an allegorical explanation, that the fire’s inability to consume the bush symbolizes the Egyptians’ inability to destroy Israel.6 Such an explanation might find some support in the fiery furnace episode in Daniel 3:1–30 and Isaiah 43:2 (“when you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze”). In the context of Exodus, however, a more suitable explanation presents itself. The fact that the bush is not consumed demonstrates that the fire’s natural property is temporarily suspended. Fire normally burns wood, but here God holds it in abeyance.

This episode, then, presages the upheaval of the natural phenomena in the plagues and the crossing of the Red Sea. Bushes do not remain unscorched when on fire, but neither do rivers turn to blood. Frogs, flies, and locusts do not normally invade a nation. Gnats are not formed from dust. Hail and darkness do not fall on command. The firstborn of a nation do not die all in one night. Seas do not form walls of water. Moses would have been wise to learn a lesson from this burning bush. The God who is calling him is the God over creation. The natural phenomena do his bidding; all are under his control. In light of this fact, made clear in the burning bush, Moses’ excuses in 4:1–17 to be exonerated from his responsibility are almost comical.

The burning bush and its significance remain a curiosity for us as it did for Moses. We would like to go over and take a closer look, much as Moses did (3:3), but we cannot. We should respect the mystery that neither we nor the writer himself can fully explain. What is known, however, is that Moses draws near to the bush and is met by God. We come, then, to that point in the narrative that informed readers (as the Israelites certainly were) have been anticipating since the opening verses of the book. Moses—the Hebrew turned Egyptian, turned exile, turned shepherd—has an audience with Yahweh. Now God’s plan of deliverance begins in earnest.

God initiates the encounter by calling “Moses! Moses!” (3:4). This repetition of one’s name is a common feature in the Old Testament when God speaks to someone (cf. Abraham in Gen. 22:11; Jacob in 46:2; Samuel in 1 Sam. 3:10). Moses’ response (“Here I am”) is somewhat abrupt.7 Does he know who is speaking to him? Is this his first encounter with Yahweh, the God of Israel? Is he expecting some sort of divine encounter as he makes his way to see the bush? We have here another all-too-typical gap in the narrative. It would be nice to know the degree to which Moses knew about Israel’s God before this time. Access to such information would also help us understand the alleged “revelation” of the divine name Yahweh in 3:14–15 (see below).

Yahweh sets the tone immediately: Moses must know first and foremost that he is in the presence of a holy God. In 3:5, God gives him two commands, both of which are justified on the basis that Moses is on holy ground. “Do not come any closer. . . .8 Take off your sandals.” It is worth noting that Moses is not told to stop advancing until he removes his sandals, for a command to come closer is never given. The site is so holy that Moses has no right to be there: “Stay where you are—not another step.”

Why then must he remove his sandals? This is a sign of reverence common in the ancient Near East, a practice that continues to this day.9 Joshua is commanded to do the same in Joshua 5:15. There the “commander of LORD’s army” (another messenger reminiscent of “the angel of the LORD”) appears to Joshua just before the fall of Jericho. As in Exodus 3, through a divine encounter a leader is commissioned to do battle with those forces that oppose God’s people.

Yahweh announces himself to Moses as the “God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob” (3:6). Whereas God’s first words to Moses are an announcement of his holiness, his second words are a reminder of the past; we revisit here the theme of the previous chapters—“continuity with the past.” God makes known to Moses who he is: the God of Moses’ father Amram10 and the God of their ancient ancestors. Yahweh is the God of the present and the past. Here God is either informing Moses of what he has forgotten during his long exile from his people or is being told for the first time who God is. The former is more likely, since the reference to the patriarchs implies that Moses is aware, at least to a certain extent, of his Israelite heritage.

The emphasis of 3:6 is not on the message spoken, but on this voice in the bush identifying himself as that God. The first person pronoun (ʾanoki) makes the Hebrew phrase emphatic: “I am the God of your father . . .” (see also 3:12). In other words, “I am the one you have heard about [albeit vaguely]; I am the God of your ancestors, I am the God of your very own father.” Moses responds appropriately by hiding his face, too afraid to look on him whom he had earlier casually gone over to look at. What begins as a curiosity in verse 3 turns into a source of fear and reverence. Moses is getting a crash course in holy etiquette. He is to be the redeemer of Israel.

Yahweh continues speaking in 3:7; he gets closer to the point of why he has called this audience with Moses, the shepherd. The Lord has seen, has heard, and knows what his people have been enduring under Egyptian oppression. The language of this verse unmistakably echoes that of 2:24–25.11 Yahweh is well aware of what the situation is and he will soon do something about it. Israel is “my people.” He has a special interest in their safety. He is, after all, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. His relationship with them has a long history. He has heard their cry and tells Moses that he has “come down to rescue them.” To “come down” is typical biblical language to describe what God does when he intervenes in human affairs (e.g., Gen. 11:5, 7; 18:21). He will “bring them up” from one land and into another, from the land of Egypt, which meant captivity and slavery, and into “a land flowing with milk and honey.”

Both of these phrases in quotation marks are common refrains to those familiar with the content not only of Exodus but of the Pentateuch as a whole. The verb “to bring up” (a form of which has already appeared in 1:10; see comment there) is the typical expression used to describe Israel’s deliverance from Egypt.12 The description given of the Promised Land is also a familiar one (Ex. 3:17; 13:5; 33:3; Lev. 20:24; Num. 13:27; 14:8; 16:14; Deut. 6:3; 8:7–9; 11:9ff.).13 The list of the nations that occupy that land also provides a connection to passages throughout the Pentateuch and the conquest narratives.14 This verse serves as a focal point that brings together God’s impending redemptive act and a broad sweep of biblical imagery.

In 3:9–10 God makes the announcement: The Israelites’ cry has reached high to heaven,15 and this is what Yahweh tells Moses: “So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh.” God’s plan is revealed. The outcast is chosen to bring God’s special people out of Egypt. This announcement, however, seems somewhat at odds with verse 8, which clearly implies that God is the one who will be doing the delivering. Of course, no contradiction exists. Moses is the means by which God will work his own redemptive strength. There is, in fact, a recurring ambiguity throughout Exodus concerning who is doing the delivering: God or Moses? But this ambiguity is intentional and is expressed as early as 4:16, where Moses “becomes like God” (pers. trans.)16 to Aaron. Moses and Yahweh’s roles are sometimes difficult to distinguish.

Thus far, Yahweh has done all the talking. The announcement has been made. As soon as the chosen messenger relays God’s word to the Israelites, they will be begin to feel the sought-after relief from their misery. But how will this messenger react? Will he be a willing participant in God’s mighty act?

Bridging Contexts

THE RELUCTANT LEADER. The narrative of Moses’ call revisits a number of themes that have been introduced in the preceding chapters. We see, for example, the rejection of Moses’ leadership, which is what fuel’s Moses’ concerns about his own ability to carry out God’s call. To push this a step further, Moses’ self-doubt in this passage is an extension of the rejection theme and reminds us of how pervasive resistance against Moses’ leadership was. The recurring reference to the patriarchs as well as the creation overtones of the three signs remind us of another theme: “continuity with the past,” which was so central to Exodus 1.

The main theme addressed in this passage, however, is God’s call to Moses and Moses’ reluctance to answer that call. His reluctance seems to be a cross between true humility, an appreciation for the difficulties that will confront him in his role, and simple stubbornness. The complexity of his response presents an ambiguous picture of the redeemer. One would expect Israel’s deliverer to have more resolve and less hesitation. Nevertheless, such a human presentation of Moses is one that even God’s people today can readily understand.

We can gain a fuller understanding of Moses’ call if we place 3:1–4:17 in the context of Scripture as a whole. Frequently in the Old Testament God “calls” someone, thereby setting him aside for a particular purpose. These “call narratives,” as they are titled,47 bear varying degrees of similarity to our passage. The most pertinent call narratives include Joshua (Josh. 1), Gideon (Judg. 6), Samuel (1 Sam. 3), Isaiah (Isa. 6 and 40), Jeremiah (Jer. 1), and Ezekiel (Ezek. 1).

The broader canonical context of these other narratives provides the proper theological framework for viewing not only Moses’ call but the others as well. We will look briefly at the characteristics of each of these narratives and then make general conclusions. It should be pointed out that no attempt will be made to force any of these call narratives into a single pattern, thus blurring the distinctive elements of each. In fact, those elements that are not in common are as significant as the areas of overlap.

Joshua’s call is the logical place to start, since he is Moses’ successor. After the death of Moses, the Lord commissions Joshua to lead the Israelites into the Promised Land. He is to finish the job that God began through Moses. Hence, God’s presence with Joshua is as vital for his mission as it was for Moses. The Lord tells Joshua, “As I was with Moses, so I will be with you; I will never leave you nor forsake you” (Josh. 1:5; cf. Deut. 31:23). God promises his presence with Joshua as Israel’s new leader sets out to perform the task assigned to him by the Lord. There is no Mount Horeb experience or back and forth dialogue between Joshua and the Lord, but the promise of God’s presence to Joshua for fulfilling Moses’ aborted assignment48 indicates some similarity between Joshua’s call and that of Moses.

Gideon’s call presents more striking parallels to Moses’ call. As with Moses, the angel of the Lord appears to Gideon in close proximity to a tree (Judg. 6:11). This supernatural encounter in a mundane setting (he is busy threshing his father’s wheat) closely resembles God’s call to Moses (who is shepherding Jethro’s sheep). As with Moses, the angel announces to Gideon, “The LORD is with you” (v. 12; cf. Ex. 3:12). Gideon, like Moses, although much more briefly, questions God’s actions (Judg. 6:13). He even objects to God’s plan to use him as an instrument to defeat the Midianites (v. 15). God responds to Gideon’s complaint by reassuring him of his continued presence: “Am I not sending you?” (v. 14); “I will be with you” (v. 16).49

Gideon is apparently not fully convinced of God’s reassurance, so he, like Moses, asks for a sign (Judg. 6:17). The sign consists of fire (cf. Ex. 3:2, a typical characteristic of theophany) consuming the meat and bread Gideon has offered to him (Judg. 6:21). Being finally convinced that it is indeed the Lord who is speaking with him, Gideon becomes frightened at being in God’s presence (v. 23; cf. Ex. 3:6). As we will see below, one of Moses’ early encounters with the Israelites he is sent to deliver does not go smoothly; they are actually hostile toward him. Hostility is also the Israelites’ initial reaction toward Gideon (Judg. 6:30).50

Samuel’s call is similar to Moses’ in a number of ways. We have the direct address “Samuel,” twice explicitly (1 Sam. 3:6, 10) and twice implied (3:4, 8). As in Exodus 3:4, at the climactic moment, the name is repeated twice in 1 Samuel 3:10, “Samuel! Samuel!” Also, in 1 Samuel 3:4, 5, 6, and 8, Samuel responds to God’s call with hinneni/hin^eni (“Here I am”), as does Moses in Exodus 3:4. Like Moses and Gideon, God calls Samuel to announce to him some plan that he is about to carry out (1 Sam. 3:11–14). Two noticeable differences are Samuel’s lack of any explicit objection to being part of God’s plan (although he is afraid to tell Eli of the vision, v. 15), and Eli’s submission to the message that God gives Samuel (vv. 17–18), different from the Israelites’ hostility toward Moses.

Isaiah’s call (Isa. 6:1–13) begins with the prophet in God’s awesome presence (vv. 1–3). Like Moses, Isaiah feels the weight of being in the presence of the holy God, and it is too much for him to bear: “Woe to me! . . . I am ruined!” (v. 5; cf. Ex. 3:6). Isaiah’s recognition of his own sin is also a form of objection. Since he is sinful, he realizes he has no place being in God’s presence. Yet the divine response is to make it so Isaiah can remain before the Lord (vv. 6–7):

Then one of the seraphs flew to me with a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with tongs from the altar. With it he touched my mouth and said, “See, this has touched your lips; your guilt is taken away and your sin atoned for.”

This is somewhat similar to the “I will be with you” response that Moses gets. The deficiencies of the one receiving the call do not determine God’s actions. He will see to it that his chosen vessel is adequately prepared.51 Furthermore, Isaiah is called to perform a certain task (Isa. 6:8–9). He responds in the familiar manner, “Here am I” (hin^eni). The distinctive feature we find in Isaiah’s call, however, is that he is not sent to deliver his people, but rather to announce God’s word of judgment against his people (vv. 9–13).

Jeremiah too is confronted by God (Jer. 1:4–19) and told that he has been set apart from the womb as a prophet to the nations (v. 5). In response, Jeremiah offers a complaint of his own reminiscent of Moses: “Ah, Sovereign LORD . . . I do not know how to speak; I am only a child” (v. 6); precisely what Jeremiah means is not clear. But as with Moses, God responds by declaring his presence with Jeremiah: “Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you” (v. 8).52 God demonstrates to Jeremiah more concretely his presence with him. The “sign,” so to speak, that God gives is like what we have seen with Isaiah: God reaches out, touches the prophet’s mouth, and says, “Now, I have put my words in your mouth” (v. 9). The connection to Moses’ complaint of his speech problem and God’s response, “Now go; I will help you speak and will teach you what to say” (Ex. 4:12; lit., “I will be with your mouth”) should not escape our notice.53

Ezekiel’s call includes an extended description of the divine confrontation (Ezek. 1: the windstorm, the four living creatures, and the wheel). The description of this confrontation concludes in 1:28, where the prophet reacts in a way that reminds one of Moses at the mountain: The prophet falls facedown in fear and reverence (cf. Ex. 3:6). God then calls Ezekiel to special service; like Isaiah before him, he is to speak God’s word of judgment to rebellious Israel (Ezek. 2:3). Unlike other call narratives, Ezekiel offers no complaint. In fact, he plays a rather passive role throughout his initial meeting with God. Yet, like Moses and Jeremiah, Ezekiel is given divine empowerment to help him speak. In his case, he is made to eat a scroll on which are written “words of lament and mourning and woe” (2:10). Being God’s messenger to the people requires being enabled to speak God’s words.54

Although each of the call narratives has its own character and integrity, there are several elements common to most or all of them. Highlighting these elements will help us to have a better grasp of the coherence of these narratives in general. (1) God initiates the contact. These are, after all, call narratives. Moses is on no quest to find God. He and the other chosen servants were simply minding their own business (Jeremiah was in the womb!) when God called them away from what they were doing and put them on a new and unexpected path.

(2) Some of these narratives seem to go out of their way to mention the mundane or ordinary vocation the leaders were engaged in at the time of their calling. A primary factor in God’s choice was not the individual’s résumé or experience. Rather, he calls people out of ordinary circumstances for extraordinary tasks.

(3) The recipients of God’s call are often jolted by the thought of what God intends for them. Hence, they respond in humility or disbelief. A feeling of inadequacy and even reluctance is a perfectly normal reaction. In fact, complying too quickly with God’s call would suggest one’s true inadequacy for the task set before him. Thus, we see repeated questioning, denial, pleading, requests for signs, and in Jonah’s case, fleeing to the opposite end of the world. This period of doubt and questioning should be viewed generally in a positive light. God does not chide any of his leaders for taking him to task. None are punished or upbraided for not acquiescing immediately to God’s call. Rather, in a certain sense, it is this struggle with their call that begins to prepare them for the task ahead.

Moses’ questions, which are really challenges to God, serve to draw out more concretely the nature of God’s continued presence with Moses and the manner in which his power will be displayed to Egypt. God answers each of Moses’ questions patiently. He does not become angry with Moses until his fifth challenge. Moses’ concerns seem legitimate (at least in his mind), but the Lord is patient with that, and those concerns provide a vehicle for God to reveal himself.

Even after God’s patient assurances of his presence with Moses for the task ahead, Moses simply puts his foot down and says “no.” This is why the Lord became angry with him. It is not because he dared confront the Lord or because the Lord has patience with four questions but five is one too many. Moses’ error is in refusing to trust God’s answers.55

(4) The lesson these leaders learn is that “salvation comes from the LORD” (Jonah 2:9). However legitimate their concerns may be, they are in the final analysis irrelevant. God is greater than their inadequacies, lack of experience, or talent. In fact, he surprises the ill-prepared and calls them out of unlikely settings precisely to leave no doubt that it is his power and might that is at work. “I will be with you” is a refrain, either explicit or implicit, that dominates these call narratives. Salvation is in God’s hands; he will work his might through whomever he chooses.

There is much in these call narratives that believers today can relate to. God meets us where we are. Our initial response is awe, but as time goes on we begin to question the Lord and wonder whether he has made a mistake. (Actually, this line of thinking puts us comfortably in the world of the Psalms.) So we struggle back and forth with the Lord, and as a result we grow, slowly but surely, to have a better grasp of the role God has called us to in his kingdom.

Although such a scenario speaks to us directly—and further reflection would prove more profitable—we should perhaps exercise some patience first. Before we begin serious reflection on the application of the call narratives to our lives, it behooves us as Christians, who serve a Christ of whom all of Scripture speaks, to bring to the foreground the Christological dimension of these call narratives. The significance of the call of Moses and other Old Testament characters is not diminished but accented when we allow the person and work of Christ to mediate that significance to us.

Although there is no specific, localized “call narrative” in the Gospels, many of the elements of the Old Testament call narratives present themselves in the life of Christ. First, Christ is “sent” by the Father to perform a specific task, a refrain noted especially in John’s Gospel (John 5:36). Although we cannot speak of the “divine initiative” of the Father in the same way that we can with the call of Moses and the others, it is still the Father who initiates Christ’s mission. Of course, this touches on the great mystery of the inter-Trinitarian relationship between the Father and the Son, and these matters will not be resolved here. Still the Son, in his role as the incarnate Christ, speaks as one who was given a message by the Father to bring to the world.

On a different level, the setting apart of Christ’s role as the mediator of God’s word is given concrete expression at his baptism (Matt. 3:13–17; Mark 1:9–11; Luke 3:21–22). Christ’s baptism by John serves to give open testimony to the Father’s sanction of his ministry: “You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased” (Mark 1:11). It is at this point that Jesus’ public ministry, his proclamation of God’s word, begins. Moreover, the purpose for which the Father sent the Son was to deliver God’s people, an element common to the Old Testament call narratives. Of course, here the nature of that deliverance takes on a new meaning: not from political oppression or social injustice but to cross “over from death to life” (John 5:24).

Like Moses, Jesus’ earthly circumstances hardly lead one to expect the gravity of his assigned mission. He was, to all appearances, of ordinary birth and upbringing, a carpenter’s son from Galilee. He was not invested with any prestige, at least in the way that we normally reckon such things. This is not to say that Jesus was surprised by the role he was to play in God’s redemptive plan; he was not “minding his own business,” as were Moses and others. Still, it is striking that Christ, too, was leading an “ordinary” life before his extraordinary mission began.

The similarities between Christ’s “call” and those in the Old Testament break down, at least a bit, when we consider Christ’s response to the task for which the Father sent him. There were certainly periods of intense struggle, as we see in the Garden of Gethsemane (“Take this cup from me”) and on the cross (“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”). What we do not see, however, is the degree of obstinate objection, feelings of inadequacy, or stubborn reluctance that we find exhibited by the Old Testament characters. The reason for this is straightforward: The Son and the Father are one. There is a unanimity of purpose between them. The Son does not need a sign from the Father to ensure his continued presence.

The Father and the Son are so in harmony that knowing the one means knowing the other (John 5:16–18; 8:19; 10:30). There is no “distance” between the two as there was in the Old Testament. In Christ, the Father has the perfect messenger to proclaim his word. He needs no special pep talk to fulfill the task. He needs no special assurance that “I will be with you,” because the Father and the Son are already one and their wills cohere perfectly (6:38–40). Christ’s role as messenger completes to perfection the trajectory begun in the Old Testament.

Contemporary Significance

THE CALL OF GOD on our lives. In contrast to the degree to which Christ fulfills the role for which the Father had sent him, the Old Testament characters, however nobly they perform their respective tasks, are found lacking. It is for Christians, then, who are in Christ, to understand the call narratives in general and Exodus 3:1–4:17 in particular in the broader context of redemptive history as a whole. When we turn to applying these narratives to our lives, we ask ourselves, “What does it mean for a Christian to be ‘called’ by God?”

This question can be addressed on two different levels: (1) God calls us as sinners into his kingdom; (2) having done so, God calls each of us to some kingdom service. In other words, God’s call concerns salvation and vocation. Exodus 3:1–4:17 and the other call narratives, as understood in their Christological dimension, speak to Christians today.

(1) Let us first look at how God calls us into his kingdom in the context of the call narratives. A central theme of these narratives is that God initiates the call. This is true also of our entrance into God’s kingdom. Speaking of a “call” to describe our salvation is not intended to create divisions between Calvinists and other Christians; most Christians can readily agree that we do not initiate our relationship to the Lord but that the Spirit must be at work in us. True, this notion of election is a mark of Calvinism, but my purpose for raising it here is not to engender debate. Rather, it is to highlight what every Christian believes, that we are unholy people who, by some great wonder, now have a relationship with a holy God. As Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 4:6, “For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Christ.”

However one may want to understand the election theme in the New Testament, the idea that God shines his light into our dark hearts is something that rings true in all our ears. Whatever the dynamic may be between God’s call and our response (this is perhaps the proper locus for the election debate), it is difficult to maintain scripturally that we “initiate” our own salvation. Rather, we are called into God’s kingdom.

There are ready parallels between Moses’ call and ours. Many Christians, particularly those who have come to a saving knowledge of the Lord in their adolescent and adult years, have testimonies that bear similarity to Moses’ call. For example, we might think of the unexpected nature of our conversion:56 an invitation to an evangelistic meeting or a “chance” encounter with an old friend who first spoke with you about the Lord. Theologically speaking, many of us were minding our own business, so to speak, when God shined his light in our hearts, when the Lord took us from our mundane lives and placed us on a new, extraordinary path that we never really expected to take. Many Christians have had a Mount Horeb experience of sorts, not because they saw a burning bush or a miraculous sign, but because they were changed. Yet, from a Christological point of view, we can say that our call to Christ was accompanied by even greater signs than Moses’ call or anyone else’s. We who are living at the “end of the age” have the Spirit of Christ himself dwelling in us, and we see things that even the Old Testament prophets and angels longed to look at (1 Peter 1:10–12).

Like Moses, the direction our lost lives were taking was eternally altered by God. Also like Moses, our call may have been accompanied by a certain degree of resistance. Speaking for myself, my focused resistance lasted a couple of years after my initial conversion (and struggles still linger today). As Moses did not trust the Lord’s repeated promise to be with him, the ever-present grace and love of God is a lesson that many of us need to keep learning day after day.

Sometimes the numbing reality of God’s unconditional love inspires true humility in us. Other times, we carefully count the cost of our conversion and debate with the Lord that we are not sufficiently endowed to receive this great gift. Still other times, we may shift the focus far too much on our own abilities and qualities, and we stubbornly resist the sustaining grace of the Lord that he offers every day. There are patterns in our own behavior that are similar to Moses’ reactions to the Lord’s call on Mount Horeb. And, like Moses, the Lord patiently teaches his church that it is his presence with us, in the brilliant light of Christ’s resurrection, that counts. It is precisely in our inability that his light shines brightest in our hearts.

We must remember that we are not simply called by God to enter his kingdom, but we are called “in Christ.” The inexorable union between the Father and the Son is also at work in those who are called to be co-heirs with Christ, his brothers and sisters. Our call into his kingdom must be seen against the backdrop of Christ’s first fulfilling God’s call to him: to become a human being and reconcile fallen humanity to the Father. When God calls us now into his kingdom, he does not do so apart from what he has accomplished in Christ but precisely by virtue of what he has done. Our call to salvation, therefore, should not be seen immediately in the context of the Old Testament call narratives, but the message of the call narratives should first be mediated to us through the “call” of Christ. What begins to develop, then, is a stronger sense of God’s unfailing presence with those whom he has called.

Although doubts and struggles will certainly arise in conjunction with God’s call, it is the very Spirit of Christ that the Father imparts to us in that call. God’s promise to be with Moses is fulfilled in us to a degree that neither Moses nor any of the Old Testament saints ever envisioned. God is not with us, but in us—and we are in Christ. This intimacy is greater than what Moses experienced, plagues and miracles notwithstanding. This powerful presence of God in our lives does not preclude doubt and struggle. Rather, it serves as the proper theological setting in which to view our struggle. Brothers and sisters of the risen Christ are in a privileged situation.

(2) Another level at which we can apply the call narratives concerns our call to kingdom service. The Lord does not simply call us to save us. He also calls us to be active servants in his kingdom, to be the salt of the earth to bring every thought captive under the universal rule of the risen Christ. We are all called in order to be sent out on a mission. We are ambassadors of King Jesus, and each of us has a task to perform. Of course, God does not call each of us to the same task. Some may traverse the globe, others may go no further than their own neighborhoods or families. Some may earn the respect and admiration of thousands, most others may remain anonymous. But each of us is called to serve in some way.

God’s call to kingdom service, like that of Moses, is the Lord’s doing. There truly is a sense of “calling” that Christians feel, even though we may belittle that notion from time to time. Sensing the Lord’s call is not just something that seminarians feel, but eventually everyone who serves the Lord. Fifteen years ago, if anyone had told me that I would one day be teaching Hebrew in a seminary and writing a commentary, I would have suggested that they begin wearing a hat when in direct sunlight. Old friends I haven’t seen for years cannot be fooled. They know that something extraordinary must have happened for me to be doing what I am doing.

We can all reflect on how different our lives would have been had the Lord not called us to where we are now. Most of can attest to how the Lord has put ministry opportunities in our paths. You move into a new neighborhood and you “happen” to meet some people who are young Christians or perhaps close to entering the kingdom. And there you are, called to minister to them. Perhaps someone new was hired at work who is particularly open to the gospel because of a personal problem. When we stop to think about it, we, like Moses, are being called continually to serve in a variety of capacities. We may not be called to be a great deliverer, sent to lead an entire people from bondage—Christ has done that already. But the Lord uses us where we are to do his work, and he makes sure the opportunities are there.

Of course, the analogy between Moses’ call and ours does not stop there. With each opportunity we accept, there are others where we resist, doubt, struggle, and even rebel. Most likely, we have all at one time or another felt embarrassed about witnessing to strangers, or, even worse, to friends, family members, classmates, or coworkers. Pastors in particular often feel weighed down by the responsibilities of their calling, perhaps to the point where they doubt the calling itself. Such doubt, as in Moses’ case, may arise from an appreciation for the great responsibilities they bear and a recognition of their own inability to fulfill their obligations.

Such periods of discomfort are often nothing less than the honest struggling of God’s people, and it is precisely through such a process that the Lord strengthens us for the task ahead and causes us to grow to meet greater challenges. Like children, we are not expected immediately to comprehend our situation and distinguish the long-term results from the present, apparently dire, circumstances. So we plunge ahead, somewhat reluctantly, into the task the Lord has set before us. We begin that conversation with a neighbor about spiritual matters. We bear witness to what the Lord has done in our lives.

In doing so, we truly learn that the Lord is “with our mouths,” just as he was with Moses’ mouth. When the Lord calls us to a task, he is faithful to see us through it, despite our feelings. Moses began to learn from his back-and-forth with the Lord that his perception of the situation should not dictate his actions. How successfully we fulfill the Lord’s call on our lives does not depend on our ability to act, but on the sovereign Lord who is with us and acts through us. It is his work; we are his instruments. If he chooses to use us, the clay has no right to argue with the potter. Again, none of this is to minimize the dimension of honest doubt and struggling that Christians feel in varying degrees and at varying times in their lives. But it is precisely at those times that we would profit most from remembering that he is amply fitted for carrying out the task in which he has graciously allowed us to participate. The Spirit of Christ in us is the continual reminder that God is truly present with us.

No task undertaken alone. A brief mention of two related matters of application in Exodus 3:1–4:17 will conclude our discussion. The task Moses was given to confront Pharaoh was not to be undertaken alone. Rather, he and the elders were to go to Pharaoh and demand the release of the Israelite slaves (3:18). Likewise, God provided Aaron to Moses as a helper to carry out God’s plan. Although this addition was more of a concession to Moses’ lack of faith than anything else, both Aaron’s role and that of the elders underscore the role of the group in carrying out God’s purpose. Moses is not to be a lone ranger deliverer, but he is to work for the group by working with the group. He must first gain the group’s confidence before he can carry out his task (3:16–17). This helps us make sense of the fact that Moses does not seem to doubt so much his ability to confront Pharaoh as his reception by his own people.

Likewise, we should not assume that our own calling is necessarily a private matter. How often have we heard someone claim to have had a private vision that the Lord wants him or her to do such and such, and, come what may, nothing will get in that person’s way. We must remember that the church is a corporate body. We are all members of that body. God’s call on our lives must be checked or confirmed by the whole. For example, if someone feels called to be a pastor, we do not just take that person’s word for it. Every denomination that I know of has some sort of process, whether formal (seminary, ordination exams) or less formal (a perception of the candidate’s spiritual maturity and ability to lead people), whereby that call is scrutinized. Bypassing that process can have disastrous effects.

Likewise, if one feels called to teach Sunday school or serve as a deacon, it is the church’s responsibility to play a role in the particulars of how that individual carries out his or her task. Even in terms of some other ministry (neighborhood evangelism, helping the poor) the individual ought to call on the resources of the body of Christ rather than proceed in isolation.

Being confronted by God’s holiness. A second area of application, one that can easily be lost in the shuffle, is that being called by God means being confronted by his holiness. This was the first lesson Moses learned as God was preparing him for the task ahead (3:5). God’s “otherness,” his purity, his holiness, is not something we readily bring into our reflection on our calling. Yet Moses is startled; he approaches the burning bush, curious to find out what is happening. But the Lord does not allow it to remain there. “Stop, Moses. Come no further. I am not a matter of curiosity. I am holy.”

It is the same holy God that confronts us today. Perhaps we do not fully appreciate how incredible it is that a holy God calls us into his service. But we should recapture the biblical model of true reverence and piety when in God’s presence. Speaking for myself, I am not nearly enough in awe of God’s presence with me throughout the day and throughout those times when I am particularly struggling with who I am as a Christian. Here we arrive at the heart of the matter. God is holy. As we reflect on him rather than ourselves, we approach our calling with a peace that passes all understanding. The holy God calls us into his kingdom and even allows us to participate in his kingdom work. In the end, the only proper response is worship.