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“Earth’s crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
But only he who sees, takes off his shoes
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries,
And daub their natural faces unaware…”
From Book Seven of Aurora Leigh by Elizabeth Barrett Browning[1]
How often do you take off your shoes? It’s so easy to miss things when we’re busy with our daily routines.
When I used to drive to work from Simi Valley to Canoga Park, California, I had the routine down from driving it so many times, every day, five days a week. Back out of the driveway, turn right, turn left out of the neighborhood and onto the road that goes up into of hills between Simi Valley and San Fernando Valley. Go fast enough on the twists and turns to keep the person behind you happy, but not so fast that you lose control. At the end of that road, turn right onto the boulevard and follow that through all the stop lights until you arrive at the stoplight for the street where you work. Turn left and then right into the parking lot. Done.
Except that one day I missed the turn onto the street where I worked. I was lost in thought and didn’t notice until I was several blocks beyond my usual turn. I didn’t recognize these buildings because I’d never been this far down the street before, and I wasn’t sure at first where I was. I had taken an unexpected detour.
I imagine Moses was probably lost in thought as he walked along that path near Mount Horeb, too. How many times had he led his flock down this same path? Maybe he was thinking about how much his life had changed since he’d left Egypt, running away from the punishment he was due for killing a man. In Egypt, he’d lived well because Pharaoh’s daughter had adopted him. Now he lived in the wilderness of Midian, married to a daughter of a priest of Midian, earning his keep as a lowly shepherd.
Did he have a schedule to keep? Was he trying to get the sheep to a particular place before nightfall? Maybe. But the burning bush off in the distance caught his eye, and he turned aside from the path to get a closer look. That little detour would become the beginning of a much larger detour that would continue for the rest of his life.
Turning off the path to look at the burning bush was just the beginning. Then there was a voice calling out from the bush. God said, “Moses! Moses!” So Moses answered, “Yes, I’m here.”
Then God said, “Come no closer! Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.” (Exodus 3:5)
It was a Holy Place because God was there. The Hebrew word for the place: HaMakom הַמָּק֗וֹם is one of the Divine names used by Jewish people to refer to God.
The name speaks of God’s omnipresence.[4] Just like I AM speaks of God’s omnipresence. God is everywhere all the time. Always has been. Always will be. Always with us.
This is what Jacob learned in Genesis 28 when he had run away from home and was out in the wilderness. When Jacob fell asleep, he had a dream of angels ascending and descending on a ladder between earth and heaven, and he heard God promising to be with him and watch over him.
When Jacob woke up, he said, “Surely the Lord is in this place.” HaMakom again.
The next morning, Jacob “took the stone he had rested his head against, and he set it upright as a memorial pillar. Then he poured olive oil over it. He named that place Bethel (which means ‘house of God’).” (Genesis 28:10-19).
Unlike Jacob, Moses didn’t leave a memorial pillar by the burning bush, but he did return to that place to meet with God again after he led the people out of Egypt, the place known as the mountain of God.
There was a nineteen-year-old man who went on vacation one summer after his first year of college. He had declared a major but he wasn’t totally settled with it, so he was asking God for guidance. One morning he went for a walk down some dirt roads and took a shortcut through a cow pasture. In that pasture, he heard the inaudible voice of God calling him into ministry.
Years later he went back to that cow pasture to take a picture, and that picture now hangs on his office wall as a reminder that this was the place he had heard from God about the call he is now living. That picture is like the altar to God that Jacob made from the stone.[5]
If you were to take a picture or build an altar in the places where you have experienced God, where would that be?
- In my car on the 101 freeway in Los Angeles in bumper-to-bumper traffic
- In the sanctuary at Saddleback Community Church
- In the sanctuary at our church in Simi Valley, and the one in Seneca
- On a park bench by a lake
- In my bed while I was sleeping
- In my study chair
- In the Bible and many other books
- At the table in Arn Froese’s sunroom
- So many more
I don’t think there’s any one-size-fits-all situation for hearing from God. Some of yours might be like mine, but probably you have situations that are nothing like mine, too.
Hearing from God might be an everyday occurrence for some, but for me, and I think for Moses as well, it was a turning point. In Moses’ case, he doesn’t want to do what God is telling him to do. He doesn’t want to go back to Egypt. Things hadn’t gone well for him there. And he is sure that he is not capable of doing what God is telling him to do.
Sometimes God reveals himself to encourage us. It’s funny what we remember. I don’t remember the exact situation, but I do remember being under a lot of stress, and feeling like I was holding my breath waiting for the next shoe to drop. In my mind I can see the exact street I was on when a Danny Gokey song came on that said exactly what I needed to hear:
You’re shattered
Like you’ve never been before
The life you knew
In a thousand pieces on the floor
And words fall short in times like these
When this world drives you to your knees
You think you’re never gonna get back
To the you that used to be
Tell your heart to beat again
Close your eyes and breathe it in
Let the shadows fall away
Step into the light of grace
Yesterday’s a closing door
You don’t live there anymore
Say goodbye to where you’ve been
And tell your heart to beat again[6]
Sometimes God reveals himself because God is calling us to a change. There are many examples of this in Bible stories. One that I circle back to because I keep wrestling with it is 2 Kings 9 where the prophet Elisha summons one of the young prophets that have been following him and gives them these instructions:
“Get ready to travel,” he told him, “and take this flask of olive oil with you. Go to Ramoth-gilead, 2 and find Jehu son of Jehoshaphat, son of Nimshi. Call him into a private room away from his friends, 3 and pour the oil over his head. Say to him, ‘This is what the Lord says: I anoint you to be the king over Israel.’ Then open the door and run for your life!”
When the young prophet is alone with Jehu, he says, “This is what the Lord, the God of Israel, says: I anoint you king over the Lord’s people, Israel. 7 You are to destroy the family of Ahab, your master. In this way, I will avenge the murder of my prophets and all the Lord’s servants who were killed by Jezebel.
So Jehu was anointed by God, called to fulfil God’s purposes, but not in the most pleasant way.
It’s interesting to me that Jehu doesn’t argue about his mission, even though it’s a gruesome one, but Moses argues about his, even though it’s a rescue mission. Moses doesn’t think he’s able to do what God asks, but God promises that Moses won’t be alone. God says, “I will be with you.” (Ex. 3:12)
Moses is being sent as an answer to the prayers of the people. God says, “The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them.” (Ex. 3:9) Both Moses and Jehu are being sent to stand up for people who have been oppressed by an evil ruler.
I wrestle with the story of Jehu because I’ve asked God not to call me to do something destructive like Jehu’s call, maybe not something big like Moses’s call either. But now our church is committed to something that is a different kind of destruction in our pledge to be a Matthew 25 church. We have committed to creating healthy, just communities and a radically inclusive world through building congregational vitality, dismantling structural racism and eradicating systemic poverty. Dismantling and eradicating are destructive words, but for good reason. People need to be set free from the effects of systemic racism and structural poverty.
It’s a daunting task, but God doesn’t call us to it because we’re worthy of it, but rather because it needs to be done, maybe even as the answer to people’s prayers as they call out to God for help. And God doesn’t send us to do it alone.
You know, there’s something kinda funny in that scene where Elisha sends that young prophet to anoint Jehu. Elisha tells the young prophet that after he anoints Jehu he should “open the door and run for your life!” (2 Kings 9:3) They were afraid of Jehu. Sometimes we’re afraid of people who advocate for change. Maybe that’s because we’re afraid of change. Or maybe we’re afraid to be the people who change.
To grow is to change. To avoid change is to hide from God.
What sort of changes have you made after an encounter with God?
What sort of changes might God be calling us to make today?
Let’s be ready to take of our shoes and listen.
Thanks, God.
[1] https://americanliterature.com/author/elizabeth-barrett-browning/poem/aurora-leigh-book-7
[2] Photo by Allison Browning: https://www.pexels.com/photo/detour-14364510/
[3] By Museum of Photographic Arts Collections – https://www.flickr.com/photos/mopa1/5711526838/, No restrictions, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=53193717
[4] https://hamakom.community/about-hamakom/
[5] Batterson, Mark. Wild Goose Chase: Reclaim the Adventure of Pursuing God (p. 48). The Crown Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.
[6] Source: LyricFind, Songwriters: Bernie Herms / Matthew West / Randy Phillips
Tell Your Heart to Beat Again lyrics © Capitol Christian Music Group, Capitol CMG Publishing, Downtown Music Publishing, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc
United Presbyterian Church 