There was this song I sang as a little girl about you and Miriam and bullrushes. Dancing around, I would pretend to be Miriam, checking on you, and suggesting to Pharaoh’s daughter that our Mama could nurse you.
Oh, Moses. You introverted, stuttering, adopted prince, you. Adopted prince twice. I imagine you to be a quiet and unassuming man of bronze complexion with a heart that wrestled. And I imagine that you always felt out of place. You were of two cultures, two worlds. And you were called to choose: life or death.
Even in your sin of choosing both (you did murder the Egyptian), God was there. In the fire, in the water, in the clouds, in the silence, when you struck that rock–He was there. All the way to the end, you learned that it was not ever by your power. Only a conduit were you.
“He considered the reproach of Christ greater wealth than the treasures of Egypt, for he was looking to the reward. By faith he left Egypt, not being afraid of the anger of the king for he endured as seeing him who is invisible.” Hebrews 11:26-27
he endured as seeing him who is invisible
From a basket covered in tar floating down the Nile to receiving the 10 Commandments on Mt. Sinai, yours is a wild story of adventure and heartbreak. I wonder if you missed your adoptive Egyptian family–if there were sights or smells that conjured memories and that feeling of home. But you knew that the voice of I Am was sweeter than any allure of the old land.
You saw Him–the Invisible One. You were tending your sheep in Midian–doing what some would consider boring work, especially considering the educational background you must have had as a prince of Egypt. And the voice of the holy one came with a fire of a thorny bush.
Voices continued to come through the years–voices of whiny, adulterous people who finally got to you. And you smashed that rock. Yep, you were angry and you sinned. But Hebrews touts you as one who endured.
I want to know that even though I make mistakes–no, even though I sin, God can still use me. That His grace and power in my life surpasses my stupidity. Moses, God called you. And you endured and saw.
The truest riches and the wildest adventures center on Him who is invisible.
Thanks for keeping the faith,