I
was talking with God about Exodus 33, one of my favorite
conversations in the Old Testament. And if I’m honest, sometimes
one of the most confusing.
I
was observing that God wasn’t particularly answering that Moses was
asking, and then I remembered that Jesus was pretty famous for that,
too. “You and your Son don’t like answering questions head-on, do
you?”
And
to my immense surprise, he didn’t answer my question head-on either.
Instead, he took me inside Mo’s heart, inside his soul, and we
looked at some of the stuff going on there. And maybe for the first
time, I realized how much Mo was a wounded soul.
I
mean, look at what he’d been through:
• He
was essentially kidnapped by the king’s daughter [Exodus 2:10],
raised as a grandson of the maniacal king who was slave master of his
entire family [1:11], and appeared to be in the midst of trying to
commit genocide on his people’s race [1:22].
• It
appears that his genocidal grandfather didn’t know he was actually
a member of the race he was trying to exterminate: he lived with a
(shameful?) secret his entire life. Some people think he was being
groomed to be the next genocidal king in the land.
• He
figured out that he was really part of the slave race, presumably
from his wet nurse, who was his birth mom, and it appears that he
wanted to use his position of power to free them.
• He
makes his first attempt toward their freedom [2:12], which a) fails,
b) reveals he favors the slave race over the existing power
structure, c) alienates the people he’s trying to save [2:14], d)
turns his maniacal grandfather against him [2:15], and e) scares the
piss out of him [ibid]. He flees for his life.
• He
meets strangers in the desert who mis-identify him as a member of the
genocidal ruling race [2:19], and he doesn’t correct them.
• He
gives up on doing anything important with his life, marries into a
family of nomads and settles for being a shepherd on the backside of
the desert, for 40 years. (Sounds like a real “death of a vision”
to me.)
• On
day 14,600 (approximately) of his life as a hopeless, helpless
shepherd, he stumbles on an encounter with a God he’s not known
[3:2ff], who gives him a quest [3:10] to do the very thing that he
had tried to do 40 years earlier. He’s too broken and still too
scared to go back, too intimidated to attempt anything that important
[3:11].
• So
he argues with God, putting up obstacle [3:11] after obstacle [3:13]
after obstacle [4:1] after obstacle [4:10] as to why he shouldn’t
be expected to do that job.
• He
experiences a couple of undeniable miracles [3:2, 4:3, 4:6] there on
the mountainside. He believes his fears more than he believes the
miracles.
• In
the end, he flat-out refuses to comply with God’s instructions.
“Send someone else!” [4:13] He pisses God off [4:14], who adds
his older brother to the deliverance party.
We
could go on. But I began to better understand the whiny tone in
Moses’ voice [33:12-16]. And it was at that point that God pointed
out that Moses was an 80-year-old broken man, with a lot of un-healed
wounds in his soul. He was kind of a dysfunctional mess. An old
dysfunctional mess.
And
THAT is who God chose to deliver millions of people from arguably the
mightiest nation on the planet at the time.
And
you know that God made it personal. “If I can use a messed-up man
like that (and I heard the tender affection in his “voice”), I
can use you just fine, too.”