Here I Am, Send Me

Read

Exodus 3:7-10; 4:13-17 "The LORD said, 'I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering. So I have come down to rescue them from the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey—the home of the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Hivites and Jebusites. And now the cry of the Israelites has reached me, and I have seen the way the Egyptians are oppressing them. So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt.' But Moses said, 'Pardon your servant, Lord. Please send someone else.' Then the LORD's anger burned against Moses and he said, 'What about your brother, Aaron the Levite? I know he can speak well. He is already on his way to meet you, and he will be glad to see you. You shall speak to him and put words in his mouth; I will help both of you speak and will teach you what to do. He will speak to the people for you, and it will be as if he were your mouth and as if you were God to him. But take this staff in your hand so you can perform the signs with it.'"

Think

I was eight years old. It was a Sunday morning in a little fellowship hall with metal folding chairs and about a hundred and fifty people. My dad was preaching, and the sunlight was streaming through the windows behind him. I cannot tell you what he said that morning. I cannot quote the scripture he used or the illustration he gave. But I remember what I felt. It was like God reached through my dad's words and grabbed my heart. Not gently. Not subtly. He grabbed it.

And I ran. I did not walk. I did not wait for the invitation to end. I got out of my metal chair and I ran down the center aisle of that little fellowship hall, and I fell into my father's arms. I was eight years old, and I said yes to God for the first time.

I have thought about that moment more times than I can count, because it captures something that I think we overcomplicate as adults. An eight-year-old boy felt God calling, and he just ran. No theological debate. No pro-and-con list. No ten-step discernment process. He ran toward the voice.

That is what Moses spent five excuses trying to decide.

Look at Exodus 3:7-10. Before God gave Moses his assignment, before the excuses and the signs and the staff turning into a snake, God told Moses why. And the why is staggering.

"I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering."

God sees. God hears. God is concerned. Those three statements reveal the heart of God in a way that should wreck us. The God of the universe, the I AM who is self-sufficient and needs nothing, looks at the suffering of his people and is moved by it. He is not distant. He is not passive. He is not indifferent to pain.

And then he says something that should reshape the way we understand our calling forever: "So now, go. I am sending you."

God sees suffering, and he sends people. That is his pattern. He does not usually send angels. He does not usually deliver miraculous rescue out of thin air. He sends people. Flawed people. Insecure people. People with five excuses and a shepherd's staff and zero confidence. He sends them anyway. The same God who saw the slavery in Egypt sees the brokenness in your neighborhood, your workplace, your family. He has not looked away. And his response has not changed. He still sends.

But Moses had one more excuse left. And it was the most honest one of all. "Please send someone else."

No more hiding behind insecurity. No more deflecting with questions about God's name or his own ability. Just raw, unfiltered reluctance: I do not want to go. Please pick somebody else.

The text says the Lord's anger burned against Moses. Not because God is petty or impatient, but because the excuses had run their course. God had answered every objection. He had revealed his name, displayed his power, promised his presence, and addressed every fear. At some point, the conversation shifts from legitimate questions to deliberate delay.

But even in his anger, God made provision. He gave Moses Aaron. "I know he can speak well. He is already on his way to meet you." God did not withdraw the call when Moses resisted. He adapted it. He worked with Moses' weakness instead of waiting for Moses to become someone he was not.

That is the grace woven into this entire story. God does not call the strong and leave the weak behind. He calls the weak and gives them what they need. He does not demand perfection before he sends you. He demands willingness.

This week we have walked through Moses' journey from somebody to nobody. We stood with him in the sand, sheep, and silence of the desert. We watched him take off his shoes on holy ground. We heard him ask, "Who am I?" and "Who are you?" We saw God take the staff in his hand and transform it. And now we arrive at the final moment. The moment where every excuse has been spent and the only thing left is a choice: will you go, or will you stay?

Your career is what you do. Your calling is why God has you here. And the calling is not complicated. It is not reserved for pastors or missionaries or people with seminary degrees. The calling is to see what God sees, hear what God hears, and be willing to be sent.

I think about that eight-year-old boy running down the aisle, falling into his father's arms, saying yes before he even fully understood what he was saying yes to. I have spent the rest of my life trying to keep running with that same urgency. Not perfectly. Not without excuses of my own. But running.

God is still calling. He is still sending. And if you have spent this week hearing his voice through the story of Moses, then maybe today is your burning bush moment. You do not need more information. You do not need more time. You just need to run.

Apply

Say yes today – Write down one sentence: "God, here I am. Send me to ___." Fill in the blank with whatever he puts on your heart and take one step toward it before the day ends.

Pray

God, you see suffering that I walk past every day. You hear cries that I have learned to tune out. Forgive me for asking you to send someone else. I am done with excuses. Here I am. Send me where you want me to go, use me how you want to use me, and give me the courage to keep running toward your voice. In Jesus' name. Amen.