In the previous chapter we were occupied with Moses the humanist; in this we look at Moses becoming a man of faith.
The humanist creed is that human resources alone are adequate to remedy all our human ills: we have no need of outside help from some God or other. And that, to all intents and purposes was the mentality of Moses when he struck his first blow for the freedom of his people, killing one of their oppressors. He relied purely on the strength of his own arm. But as we saw, the attempt to relieve oppression that way only produces a new oppressor; his action makes him guilty of the same injustice he seeks to remedy.
So it will always be. The only strength guilty men and women can assert, even in the interests of others, is guilty strength. As a highly intelligent agnostic, Marghanita Laski, once said on a BBC television discussion I watched, "We must begin with the recognition that we are, all of us, lonely, guilty men, who know that we must die."
Moses learned that
with a vengeance:
... lonely, in the desert fastnesses of Midian
... guilty, with murder on his conscience
... knowing he must die, for Pharaoh sought to kill him.
All this, for Moses, effectively shut the door on the humanist way. He had long years in which to ponder man's helplessness to help himself, until he was alerted to the presence and purpose and power of God.
In the story of Moses, the Bible reads the last rites over humanism and attends upon the birth of faith.
Already alerted to humanity's need, he is alerted to humanity's God. Having attended only to man, he must now attend to Him Who is wholly other than man. He must hear, not only the cry of mankind, but the voice of God. Amid the common, he must discern the 'holy.'
"Now Moses was keeping the flock ... and he came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There, the presence of the Lord was signalled to him in a flame of fire out of the midst of a bush. He looked, and the bush was burning, yet it was not consumed. And Moses said, 'I will turn aside, and see this marvel, why the bush is not burnt.'" (Exodus 3:1-6)
In the searing heat of the desert the spontaneous ignition of a dry thorn bush would be a not uncommon sight. But the tinder dry branches would flare and burn out almost in a flash. Moses would be used to seeing such occasional flares. But what he sees now is something different: the flame glows on but the bush is not reduced to ashes.
By this symbol the presence of God will be intimated to Moses.
The Bible is careful to say that it is not God Himself Whom Moses sees, but (v. 2) His 'angel.' "He makes fire and flame His messengers," we read in Psalm 104:4, where the word 'messengers' is the same word, 'angels.' Only later is Moses afraid to look and hides his face, when he realises he is in the presence of God, and does not know what more awesome sight than a flame of fire he might see if he did look.
Is the self-sustaining flame a symbol of God? Maybe, maybe not! It is tempting to see all sorts of marvellous meanings in it - supposed meanings which owe more to notions of Greek philosophy than to Biblical revelation, or which serve more to advertise the preacher's cleverness than the Bible's meaning. All the Scripture says at this point is that Moses' attention was caught by something that did not fit into the natural order of things: by a bush that burnt on where it should have burnt up, by a phenomenon that lived where it should have died. That is the point - the only point that matters, as we shall see.
At first, he is not aware that the presence of God is indicated by it. He knows only that what he sees is surprising enough to catch his attention and arouse his curiosity. He turns aside to see. Now we read, "When the Lord saw that he turned aside to see ..." God watched to see if he would.
Moses might not have done; he was quite free not to. We shall return to this point. For now, it is enough to note that the God upon Whom Moses will learn to wait first waits upon His servant. God does not bully or bemuse him. The first initiative God takes is gentle, and courteous - no more than a tap on the shoulder, so to speak.
That day had dawned for Moses like any other, with no fanfare of trumpets to announce that this day would bring God into his life in a way that would change all other days. Under the hot familiar sun, beneath the rugged, brooding, familiar mountains, amid the quiet browsing of his familiar sheep, his eye was caught by a flare so familiar that he might not have given it a second glance. Only the strange persistence of the flame drew his eye back to it again. And even then he might so easily have blinked and told himself his eyes were playing tricks on him. It could hardly be said that God crowded him to get his attention. When God approaches us, this is His way.
Moses turned aside to see.
He responds. Then, deep in his inner consciousness, he becomes aware that he is being called. Now he knows that he is in the presence, not merely of a puzzling phenomenon, but of a personal Being, whose presence is immediate, real and overwhelming. He knows he is being personally addressed. He knows he is known. He knows he has been 'found' by God.
As C. S. Lewis put it: "The thrill of life is communicated to him along the line of the clue he has been following. It is always shocking to meet life where we thought we were alone ... as when something suddenly breathes beside you in the darkness! There comes a moment when the children who have been playing at burglars hush suddenly: was that a real footstep in the hall? There comes a moment when people who have been dabbling in religion suddenly draw back. Supposing we really found Him! Worse still, supposing He found us!" (See Note 1 below)
Moses knows himself suddenly to have been 'found' in this way. He knows he is being called by his name. He is overwhelmed by a sense of awe, of dread; not of terror as if he were in the presence of something monstrous, but in the sense that he was reduced to stillness and trembling in the presence of what he knew instinctively to be 'most holy.' "And Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look on God." As always, with classic simplicity, the Bible says it best.
He dared not move. All initiative has passed from him to that 'Other' Who is now before him. He is bidden to put off his shoes from his feet, for the ground on which he stands is suddenly holy ground. Where God is, a man, a woman cannot saunter about with the casual ease of one who enjoys possession. Moses enjoys no title here. He is weak in the presence of the mighty, small in the presence of the great, low before the One Who is high and lifted up.
A man, a woman should know a proper fear in the presence of the Lord God. "Yahweh, the most high, is terrible as an army with banners." (Song of Solomon 6:4) No human being can match his puny strength against such a God. To esteem the great God lightly is a grievous thing in us. And it is a foolish thing, for we live at all only by the breathe of life God gives us. "The fear of God is the beginning of wisdom, and to know Him Who is Holy is what knowledge means." (Proverbs 9:10) They are wise who in the still centre of their being stand in awe of Him. We have not yet come at the beginning of a true knowledge of God until we have trembled in awe of Him. This quality of awesome otherness - of 'dreadful' mystery - is a large component in the meaning of the word 'Holy' which the Bible uses to describe Him. "He is the Lord most holy." It is fitting that before the living God we tremble.
But whilst it is most necessary that all this be said, there is something more that is also necessary to be said.
He Who is holy relates to us in the most personal and intimate way: Moses hears himself called by his name.
It is in personal encounter that God is known. He is known, not as an 'IT,' but as a 'THOU.' In His presence, He cannot be talked about, but only listened to, and spoken to. He is known only in the way that persons can be known (and every other way of describing ultimate reality is false to the truth). God spoke with Moses "as a man speaks with his friend, face to face." (Exodus 33:11)
No one can bring it about that God should speak to him like that. It rests with God whether He should so speak with us. A person must wait on God, as the Scripture says. It belongs to the graciousness of God that He does in fact choose to speak with us in this way, but we may not oblige Him to do so. When He does, then we discover, as Moses did, that He Whom we have held in awe because He is most holy draws gently near to us. We discover Him to be that 'Other' who is most near, and our awe is melted into reverence because He is most tender.
"I am the God of your father," He tells Moses; and at once the God Who stands altogether and mysteriously outside all merely human experience is known to stand within it. "My father knew Him. My father walked before His face. He is near me as He was near him."
And there is more.
"I am the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, the God of Jacob." He is the God who continually makes Himself known to men and women: generation after generation He draws near to them, seeks them, draws them into relationship with Himself, binds them to Him in bonds of reverence, trust and hope. He is dependable. He is faithful. Generation after generation, men and women have trusted in Him and not been confounded. "I the Lord change not (so He has spoken); that is why you are not consumed." (Malachi 3:6)
It is not in our power to command His favour; yet He can be depended upon to be gracious to us. "He helps His servants in remembrance of His mercy," as Mary sang. (Luke 1:54)
Not only is He the God Who is there; He is the God Who is always there; and always, He is there for us! And it is a marvellous thing that it should be so. It is not a thing to be taken for granted; absolutely, it is not to be taken for granted, but to be wondered at with fear and great joy. It is a thing most wonderful that has been promised: "Draw near to God and He will draw near to you." (James 4:8)
God is there for us. Not because we wish it so, but because in His sovereign freedom, He wishes it so. It behoves us to fear Him, and be glad.
"I am the Lord, your God" is His Word to us, as He calls us by our name; and the whole substance of our answer to Him must be, "You are my Lord, and my God." (John 20:28)
It is a wondrous thing, this bond between a man and God, between a woman and God - a strong thing, a mighty thing: but it is also a tender thing, a thing of beauty most holy.
But how does it come about, this encounter with God?
If, between us and God, things are as the Bible says they are, where is the sign by which I may know God is calling me? If the first move rests with Him, and He makes it so quietly, how am I to know when He has made it? If it belongs properly to my standing as a human creature that I must wait upon Him, how long must I wait? To Moses He gave a sign: a bush that burned, but was not consumed. What sign must I wait for? God put something in Moses' way sufficiently unusual to alert him. By what sign shall I know that God is near for me? Must I wait for some sensational experience that will set all the strings twanging in my mind, and tell me that my turn has come? What sign must I look for from God?
The answer is that that sign has already been given. God has set it up already in the midst of life. We know of it; have known of it a long time. As it was with the sign by which he alerted Moses, so it is with the sign by which He beckons us. God has set it up in such a way that although it is sufficiently striking to arrest our attention, it is not so unavoidable as to compel it. A startling sign it is, yet it has been set up quietly so we may ignore it if we will.
God watched Moses to see what he would do. God is watching us to see what we will do. Moses was free to ignore it - so are we. God has made His move. He is waiting upon us. He does that. Even as it is required of us that we wait upon God, He waits upon us - upon our response; for God is courteous. "Though He confronts us in our freedom, He does not affront our freedom." (See Note 2 below)
The sign He has set up in this world for all to see - the quiet, yet compelling sign of that which lives, where all our experience tells us it should have died, is the resurrection of His Son. There is the evidence that something has broken into our world from beyond it, something that does not belong to the natural and familiar order of things at all, something that is not of this world. There is the light, shining on, such as Moses saw - such a light as never was on sea or land.
God waits to see if we will turn aside.
"God, Who in many and various ways spoke of old to our fathers, has in these last days spoken to us in a Son." (Hebrews 1:1, 2)
The request for such a sign - a sign that God has indeed drawn near in Him - was made to Jesus. His answer was, "There shall no sign be given this generation but the sign of the prophet Jonah; for as the prophet Jonah was three days and three nights in the heart of the earth, so shall the Son of Man be." (Matthew 12:39-40) The solemn word of Jesus to us is that no other sign will be given us than His death and resurrection. By this sign, God has signalled to us.
"I am the light of the world," Jesus said. He is the light that draws us, like Moses, to God. "No one can come to the Father," He said, "but by me." (John 14:6) and ... "No one comes to me unless the Father Who sent me draws him." (John 6:44) But ... "I, if I be lifted up from the earth" - not only on the Cross, but on the clouds of heaven - "will draw all men to myself."
No one who looks intently at the witness to God which Jesus Christ has given in His life and death and resurrection can but know before long that the ground whereon he stands is holy ground ... and hears the voice of God calling him by name, making Himself known, and drawing him to His heart.
Tony Morphett, one of the writers responsible for the Australian television series, 'The Sullivans' knew it. An unbeliever, he was obliged to read the Gospels in the course of his researches. "I knew as I read them," he said afterwards, "that this was not myth or fable, but authentic documentary. And what I had to come to terms with was their sober account of the resurrection from the dead of the man they had known as Jesus of Nazareth." It drew him into a personal encounter with the living God.
Turn aside to see and hear, yield to the calling voice of God, and this day, though it dawn like any other without a fanfare of trumpets, may yet be the day that brings God into life in a way that will change all other days.
Note 1:
C. S. Lewis, "Miracles", Geoffrey Bles, p. 114
Note 2:
Simon Phipps, "God on Monday", Fontana, p. 17
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