"God is Still Speaking . . . But are we Listening?”

Exodus 3: 1-15

August 28, 2011 + Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

Reverend Dr. David C. Brown
Pilgrim Congregational United Church of Christ
400 Glenwood Drive, Chattanooga, TN 37404

In a novel which he wrote in 1916, the British author H.G. Wells created the character of Mr. Britling. The title of the novel is: “Mr. Britling Sees It Through.” In that novel these words of musing course through the mind of Mr. Britling:

“For the first time clearly Britling felt a Presence of which he had thought very many times in the last few weeks, a Presence so close to him that it was behind his eyes and in his brain and hands. It was no trick of his vision; it was a feeling of immediate reality . . . it was the Master, the Captain of Mankind, it was God there present with him, and he knew that it was God. It was as if he had been groping all this time in the darkness, thinking himself alone amidst rocks and pitfalls and pitiless things, and suddenly a hand, a firm strong hand, had touched his own. And a voice within him bade him be of good courage.”

It’s a precious moment on life’s journey, a moment of which there are a precious few, when a person feels touched by a presence beyond ourself and life is blessed and braced for the next part of the journey. We feel our way into Mr. Britling’s moment of encounter with God and immediately comes a rush of questions: Was this just in his imagination? Why this suddenness? Why have I never been there? How do I get there? Such moments in life pose as many questions as they give answers. For the ground over which one must travel to make personal contact with God is not the setting for a casual vacation trip. The ground is difficult and demanding and deceptively illusive.

Barbara Fraun reports on a children’s sermon in her home church:

“The minister came equipped with a cell phone to better illustrate the idea of prayer. “You talk to people on the phone and you don’t see them, right?” The children said, “Right!” “Well, talking to God is like talking on the phone. God’s on the other end, but you can’t see God. God’s listening though.” And a little youngster piped up and says, “What’s God’s number?”

That’s life’s basic question! How do we get in touch with God? There are voices in the modern world which tell us that all such talk of an authentic encounter with God is simply nonsense. Yet, there is a part of us which knows that life at its core is more than the sum of our cynicism. Speaking of a particularly despondent patient whose life he described as literally “godless,” the Swiss psychiatrist, Carl Jung, said of this patient:

“And that, for him – though he did not realize it, - meant a dire loss of hope and energy.”

What’s God’s number this morning? Our scripture Lesson is an intriguing moment in the story of Moses whom Ellie Wisel calls:

“. . . the saddest and loneliest and most powerful prophet of Israel and the world.”

The story of his life is almost archetypal in its familiarity. The son of Hebrew slaves in Egypt, his mother places Moses in a boat of bulrushes, sets him on the Nile where he’s found by Pharaoh’s daughter and raised as an Egyptian Prince. In fact, the Hebrew name “Moshe” means “to draw out.” Moses was drawn out of the Nile and raised in regal privilege only to lose his temper as a teenager when an Egyptian foreman was abusing a Hebrew slave. Inadvertently Moses killed the foreman. Only personal flight was now possible and so Moses traveled to the land of Media where he married Zipporah, the daughter of a Median priest. He raised a family and became quite well off as shepherds go. He lived this life 40 years, an average life, job, wife, family, the whole thing, with little thought for the palace, for his boyhood friends, for the Hebrew slaves that were back there. He probably was looking forward to retirement. But it was not to be, for one day he heard God’s voice from out of the fire of the burning bush charging him to return to Egypt and free his people. Moses pleads with God that no one will believe his story, least of all the Hebrews. And so God shows him some tricks of the magician’s trade. A walking stick is transformed into a snake, a leprous hand placed under the cloak restored to health. “Oh God!” said Moses, “I have no gift of speech to utter your Word!” And God says, “I will be with your mouth and teach you what to say.” In final desperation, Moses responds, “Oh Lord, send somebody else.” What a story, so distant in time and cultural setting and, yet, as close and as real as our next breath.

How does this happen? When does it happen? Notice that God addresses our life precisely at the point when we’ve got it made. Moses was a success, content in his work and family. But it is precisely in the midst of life that the new challenge comes.

This week our nation celebrates the dedication of the Martin Luther King, Jr. memorial on the national mall. In these past fifty years Dr. King has  become such an icon that many may find it difficult to believe that he wasn’t possessed of enormous self-confidence from the very beginning. But nothing could be further from the truth. Dr. King was the privileged pastor of a church in Montgomery, Alabama when he got a phone call in the middle of the night asking him to lead the Montgomery Bus Boycott. He agonized over the decision  before he finally said, “Yes.”

Gail Sheehy wrote a popular book years ago called “Passages.” Her words could have described Dr. King’s dilemma:

“No sooner do we think we have assembled a comfortable life than we find a piece of ourselves that has no place to fit in.”

That’s what happened to Moses, on the edge of retirement. He had it made, and, yet, there was a piece of himself which didn’t quite fit in and so he was ready to hear the inner call of God to self-forgetful service. “Moses, there’s a whole lot of change going on in my world and I need you to be part of my plan for claiming my people.”

In the words of Martin Buber:

“God carries on a dialogue with persons in the meaning of events and of history, and a person’s life is the answer.”

Moses’ response is fascinating: “O God, nobody’s going to listen to me; why, they’ll doubt that I ever really had a vision.” We ask ourselves, “Now who’s the doubter here?” This is to say that when God speaks to you or me, our natural response is to surrender to doubt. Moses’ response is a projection of his own inner uncertainty. “They’ll doubt I heard your voice, Lord,” which is to say, “What’s going on here, really?” There’s no indication up to this point that Moses was a man who went around hearing divine voices. For forty years, he just lived his life. But now the summons had come to a venture in faith and Moses doubted the reality of that voice. This gigantic figure in the unfolding of our faith knew what doubt was all about. We have this image that when a person really believes in God all doubt vanishes. That’s how it’s sold on religious television. “I really have faith wrapped up and I’m certain about everything.” Not so with Moses. Not so with real faith. That’s why the great Lutheran theologian, a great preacher in Hamburg in World War II, Helmut Thielicke, could insist when he visited this country and spoke to seminary students:

“Paradoxical as that may sound, it is really true that he who does not dare to doubt is not – contrary to appearances – being true to his faith, but is actually repressing his doubt because of unbelief.”

Charlie Brown’s sister, Sally, knows that tension. She’s lying in bed and says to herself: “So here it is, Christmas Eve, but there’ll be no sleigh bells outside my window tonight. Why? Because I’ve totally rejected the concept of that fat guy in the red suit! For the first time in my life I feel free! For once in my . . . what was that? I thought I heard sleigh bells . . . Why can’t a person ever be sure?”

Well, we can’t ever be sure, Sally. Faith and doubt are part of a dynamic struggle within the soul. That’s what keeps us alive. Moses heard a voice which summoned him to faithful action and for a moment he doubted the source. In the words of theologian Wolfhart Pannenberg:

“Faith and doubt are by no means mutually exclusive; doubt is rather the shadow which everywhere follows faith and trust.”

And so, God shows Moses a little magic as his staff becomes a snake. We moderns recoil from this primitive part of the text. But, the writer makes no big issue of it, because in the 7^th Chapter of Exodus Pharaoh’s court magicians can do the same trick. So, Moses is simply getting armed up to snuff so to speak. Well, doubt won’t carry the day for Moses. So he tries one more escape route. When doubt fails, try excuses. “Why, I’m not a good speaker, Lord. What you need God is Joel Osteen!” God calls us precisely when we’ve got it made. When we think we’ve heard God’s voice in our life, we often doubt. When that fails, we try excuses. “God, your work is so important for this world that what is really needed is someone better equipped than I.” That’s called paying theological compliments. I think God is always suspicious when we drop those compliments because we’re trying to escape something. “I’m not the person for this job. Use me in an advisory capacity. “When it comes to answering God, we never measure up. Of course, we are inadequate to the task. But God wants us.

That’s the story of Moses – at precisely that point in his life when he had it made he heard a compelling inner voice which told him God had an unfulfilled plan for his life. Moses surrendered at first to his doubts: “Who will believe that this voice is real?” Then, when doubt failed to gain the day, Moses tried the route of excuses: “Who me? Oh, I’m not up to the task. I can’t speak eloquently. My Egyptian is rather rusty. I haven’t used it in forty years.” That sequence completed, Moses responded to that inner voice and left his vision of retirement there on the foothills of Mt. Horab. He spoke for God to Pharaoh and led a people from bondage to freedom. Moses, who had been drawn out of the Nile by Pharaoh’s daughter, was drawn out of his private agenda for life by the God who is the source of life. The issue is responsibility, the ability to respond to God.

Friends, our problem is not that God is not speaking. Our problem is that we are not listening. Dietrich Bonhoeffer writing from a Nazi prison cell said:

“The responsible person seeks to make his or her whole life a response to the question and call of God.”

Have you and I heard the question? Have we heard the call? Listen! And when we hear, answer. That is what life is all about.