Exodus 3

Moses has a nice little chat with a blazing bush that somehow convinces him to pluck every single Israelite out from under the noses of the Egyptians. Of course, it's a little more complicated than that, but I wonder how Moses waited before telling others the specifics of just how he had received God's directive. Once the plagues commenced, though, I'm sure people's skepticism vanished.

God tells Moses to take off his sandals, because he is standing on ground made holy by God's very presence (verse 5). Nowadays, we take our shoes off when we go into some people's houses, or if you're in Japan, you take off your regular shoes and put on uwabaki. But I'm guessing that few of us take off our footwear when we go to church. I'm not saying that's what we should start doing (imagine the smell, for one thing). But just as taking one's sandals off was a sign of reverence, we should also respect God when entering His house of worship. And, for that matter, God isn't only present in churches--He is right alongside us during every second of our lives. It can be all too easy for me to forget that God doesn't magically disappear when I don't think about Him--he's with me during my triumphs, screw-ups, and all the mundane events in between.

God promises that He will lead the Israelites to "a land flowing with milk and honey" (verse 8). Whenever I read the phrase, "land of milk and honey," I always think of this moment from the classic Winnie the Pooh episode "The Piglet Who Would Be King." I guess it's not so good news if you're lactose intolerant. It would be more like a land flowing with flatulence and broken wind.

Moses equivocates a bit with God, basically saying, "I am unworthy" and "What if?" I don't have the benefit of having heard God speak to me from a conflagrant bush, but if I did hear him tell me to do something as difficult as Moses's task, I'm sure I would dither as well--and I'd probably use Moses's same excuses to boot. I do feel like I'm selfish, petty, and unworthy of being God's instrument, and I do worry too much about hypothetical situations that turn out relatively painless. So yes, as I've written before, I fear God will tell me to do something that will disturb my cozy little world--and there's little doubt that He will ask me to do such a thing.

Intriguingly, this spectacular chapter ends not with some grandiloquent proclamation, but with an assertion that the Israelites will "plunder the Egyptians" (verse 22). Apparently, the Egyptians will suddenly take a shine to the decamping Israelites, allowing them to purloin gold, silver, and (most importantly) apparel. Because when you're going to be wandering for 40 years in the desert, you should do so dressed like an Egyptian.