Diving back into Exodus again this morning. I just love how God whispers into my heart as I read and allows things to jump out at me.
I’m in Chapter 6 and I’m reading the genealogy of Moses and Aaron. And, honestly, I’m about to skip over this part. Boring. Who reads genealogies anyways? A bunch of people, another bunch of people, someone lived for a certain amount of years…someone had this kid or that…ok ok, skipping this part and moving on into the ‘meaningful verses’. But this time, instead of skipping the genealogy, I Googled it. “Significance of genealogy of Moses and Aaron”. A Jewish write-up came up and I skimmed through it. I am, after all, a student of God, I might as well educate myself further in these things.
The author points out that in Exodus 6:12 Moses is talking to God and put some blame on to the Israelites for not listening to the message God gave him. But then, in verse 30, the bible seems to repeat itself by saying basically the same thing. The difference is, in verse 30, Moses leaves out the part of the blame against the Israelites. Interesting.
After the genealogy, Moses leaves out blaming the Israelites.
After Moses is reminded who he is and where he came from, Moses stops blaming his people.
This is cool. Moses is reminded that he has a responsibility to these people, he is one of them. I’m thinking it would have been hard for him, growing up in an Egyptian palace, raised by a princess and having that life engrained in him. It was normal for him to think that he was Egyptian. Egypt was home for him, Israel wasn’t. Their traditions weren’t his, their God was new to him, their slavery wasn’t a part of his direct history…he was born an Israelite but it had never been an actual part of his life. Actually, I’m thinking it was probably something he had tried to hide.
But suddenly, when God became real to him, Moses needed to confront the fact that he belonged to these enslaved people and they belonged to him. He was a part of them. They were his family.
And so I finished my reading and started praying. And suddenly God started talking.
The troubled people around me are my people. I might have been rescued out of the muddy river by a God that is full of grace, I might have been delivered into a better life like Moses was, but I was once a troubled person too. Not too long ago, I struggled with their struggles. I understand them, my heart grieves for them, I can feel where they are. I am a part of them and they are a part of me and I have a responsibility to them, to lead them out of their slavery and to show them the life that God has promised them.
I love it when God speaks to me, when I know that the Holy Spirit has just opened my eyes to a message he wants me to see.
“Since I speak with faltering lips…”
I don’t always have the right words or the confidence to say them, but it doesn’t matter. I have a responsibility to my people and I have instruction from God and all I asked to do is be obedient. When I am meant to speak, he will give me the words. All he needs is a vessel to work with. Obedience and a willingness to listen.