Intro - Through The Eyes of an Old Flame
There is a point in family life when it's possible to go from "having kids" to having "a lot of kids". It happens, usually, between child number three and child number four. Three kids is normal. Lots of families have three kids and no one thinks twice of it. If, however, they are over-achievers and decide to have one more child, people no longer say that they have kids. They say they have "a lot of kids". I was the member of our family who put us over that line from kids to a lot of kids. I'm the fourth child.
Things happen when you have a lot of kids. Part and parcel to multiple children is the unfortunate likelihood of misplacing them at times. You know... kind of just forgetting where you've left them. I know this. I was left at church three times before I was five years old. Don't panic - my dad was the Pastor so they were bound to come back and find me eventually. (I didn't know that when I was four, but it seems pretty obvious now.) At four, when I emerged from the nursery after putting my baby doll to bed to find all the lights out and the place empty, I knew only one thing. Something had gone wrong. I knew where I was, but wondered if anyone else did. It was disorienting and frightening and I had no idea where to turn. That's how I imagine Moses felt before his burning bush experience.
Moses had grown up in the palace of Egypt as the adopted son of the Pharaoh. He had money, power and anything his heart desired - the life of privilege without the responsibility of succession. But things had gone terribly wrong when he learned the truth of his ethnicity and felt the helplessness of seeing his own people oppressed by the palace he called home. In the face of such injustice, he lashed out. He committed murder, tried to cover it up and ended up a fugitive. This former Pharaoh's son found himself tending sheep in the middle of nowhere and he knew only one thing. Something had gone terribly wrong. He knew where he was, but wondered if anyone else did. It was disorienting and frightening and he had no where to turn.
Enter the God of the burning bush.
I don't know if you've ever had a similar experience when you look around at the landscape of your life and wonder, "how in the world did I get here?" When you've lost everything you once relied on. When you don't even know who you are anymore. When you realize you can never go back to how things once were, but you have no idea how to move forward either. You had it all - the money, the name, the family, the stuff, the career. And suddenly you're a million miles away in a new vocation, with a new identity, wondering if anyone knows where you are. Lost. Watching sheep on the backside of the desert.
I've felt that way. I feel that way most days, and if I'm honest, that's the real reason it's taken me five months too write this blog. I lost my job. I left a 20 year career. I lost my house. I left my Florida family and some of the most important friendship I've ever known. And I look around at the landscape of my life and wonder "how in the world did I get here?" And in the heat of the day when I wonder if anyone knows or cares what's happened or where I am, just beyond my little flock of sheep a bush begins to smolder. A spark. A flame. A fire. And finally a voice.
Found. Lost as we are, the God Who doesn't just visit burning bushes but lives within them knows where to find us. When life has gone wrong. When we're alone, disoriented, floundering, frightened, forgotten, He bestows His favor on us with a visitation to our corner of the desert. He delights to find us in our loneliest hours, in our driest seasons; and when He does, He calls us by name.
If you've never known the terror of being lost, you can only imagine the euphoria of having been found. I bless you today, in the name of Jesus, with the favor of the One Who lives in the burning bush. You may have lost it all. You may be a fugitive from your past mistakes. You may be starting over again. You may feel lost, but God knows where you are. Just beyond your focus a bush is beginning to smolder, to spark, to flame. He's clearing His throat... about to speak from the crackling center of a blazing bush to call your name. And what He says next will change everything.
There is a point in family life when it's possible to go from "having kids" to having "a lot of kids". It happens, usually, between child number three and child number four. Three kids is normal. Lots of families have three kids and no one thinks twice of it. If, however, they are over-achievers and decide to have one more child, people no longer say that they have kids. They say they have "a lot of kids". I was the member of our family who put us over that line from kids to a lot of kids. I'm the fourth child.
Things happen when you have a lot of kids. Part and parcel to multiple children is the unfortunate likelihood of misplacing them at times. You know... kind of just forgetting where you've left them. I know this. I was left at church three times before I was five years old. Don't panic - my dad was the Pastor so they were bound to come back and find me eventually. (I didn't know that when I was four, but it seems pretty obvious now.) At four, when I emerged from the nursery after putting my baby doll to bed to find all the lights out and the place empty, I knew only one thing. Something had gone wrong. I knew where I was, but wondered if anyone else did. It was disorienting and frightening and I had no idea where to turn. That's how I imagine Moses felt before his burning bush experience.
Moses had grown up in the palace of Egypt as the adopted son of the Pharaoh. He had money, power and anything his heart desired - the life of privilege without the responsibility of succession. But things had gone terribly wrong when he learned the truth of his ethnicity and felt the helplessness of seeing his own people oppressed by the palace he called home. In the face of such injustice, he lashed out. He committed murder, tried to cover it up and ended up a fugitive. This former Pharaoh's son found himself tending sheep in the middle of nowhere and he knew only one thing. Something had gone terribly wrong. He knew where he was, but wondered if anyone else did. It was disorienting and frightening and he had no where to turn.
Enter the God of the burning bush.
I don't know if you've ever had a similar experience when you look around at the landscape of your life and wonder, "how in the world did I get here?" When you've lost everything you once relied on. When you don't even know who you are anymore. When you realize you can never go back to how things once were, but you have no idea how to move forward either. You had it all - the money, the name, the family, the stuff, the career. And suddenly you're a million miles away in a new vocation, with a new identity, wondering if anyone knows where you are. Lost. Watching sheep on the backside of the desert. I've felt that way. I feel that way most days, and if I'm honest, that's the real reason it's taken me five months too write this blog. I lost my job. I left a 20 year career. I lost my house. I left my Florida family and some of the most important friendship I've ever known. And I look around at the landscape of my life and wonder "how in the world did I get here?" And in the heat of the day when I wonder if anyone knows or cares what's happened or where I am, just beyond my little flock of sheep a bush begins to smolder. A spark. A flame. A fire. And finally a voice.
Found. Lost as we are, the God Who doesn't just visit burning bushes but lives within them knows where to find us. When life has gone wrong. When we're alone, disoriented, floundering, frightened, forgotten, He bestows His favor on us with a visitation to our corner of the desert. He delights to find us in our loneliest hours, in our driest seasons; and when He does, He calls us by name.
If you've never known the terror of being lost, you can only imagine the euphoria of having been found. I bless you today, in the name of Jesus, with the favor of the One Who lives in the burning bush. You may have lost it all. You may be a fugitive from your past mistakes. You may be starting over again. You may feel lost, but God knows where you are. Just beyond your focus a bush is beginning to smolder, to spark, to flame. He's clearing His throat... about to speak from the crackling center of a blazing bush to call your name. And what He says next will change everything.