Hope Alive

“Moses spoke this way to the children of Israel, but they did not listen to him because of their broken spirit and cruel bondage” (Ex. 6:9).

The children of Israel have endured in slavery for generations since the death of Joseph. The Lord raises up a redeemer, Moses, at the appointed time to fulfill his promise to Abraham, and rather than the redeemer immediately delivering the children of Israel – the darkness of slavery grows even darker.

At the conclusion of Exodus chapter 5 Moses begs the Lord to reveal why he has brought such misery upon the children of Israel when he promises deliverance. The Lord says, “Now see what I do to Pharaoh.”

Still, the children of Israel do not receive the words of encouragement given by Moses in Exodus 6:9, they do not listen because they are “short of spirit,” רוּחַ מִקֹּצֶר, literally, “shortness or anguish of breath.”

It is, at the point of their greatest exhaustion that the Lord begins to move mightily. CS Lewis once wrote, “We are not necessarily doubting that God will do the best for us; we are wondering how painful the best will turn out to be.”

Just when it seems that the Lord is about to unleash fury on Egypt in order to fulfill his promise to Abraham, and to deliver his people, there is a parenthesis in the narrative, an insertion that does not advance the dialog, it’s just a dry genealogy. Why would the Lord include a genealogy in Exodus 6:14-26? The genealogy is there for a purpose, not only to record family histories, but also to establish a link to an earlier promise.

The Lord recorded for future generations the genealogy of Moses and Aaron, establishing a legal, ancestral link to the promises of spoken of Israel. They will lead a people in the hope of God’s Word.

Matthew opens his gospel account with the genealogy of Messiah Yeshua/Jesus in 1:1-6. Genealogies are often overlooked when it comes to source material for preaching an inspiring sermon. However, this genealogy, and many others, are included for very important reasons concerning inheritance, legitimacy, and covenant connection. The genealogies in Scripture preserved the history and the story of the family line of Messiah; as not only must the Messiah’s lineage be traced to David, it must also lead to Abraham.

However, there are lessons important for us, as His disciples, apart from the historical and covenant meanings of the genealogies. Remember, the genealogies are the record of real people. They had struggles, imperfections, and real sin in their lives that affects how they, and those around them, lived.

In Genesis, we read that Abraham had a child with Sarah’s maidservant Hagar, attempting to help the Lord fulfill His promise.

Jacob, the grandson of Abraham, seemed to be in constant struggle with Esau his brother, swindling him, fleeing from him, but ultimately reconciling with him.

Judah, the son of Jacob, bore twin sons with Tamar, his daughter in law, whom he had mistaken as a prostitute, bringing her into the messianic line.

Rehab, who hid the Israelite spies in Jericho, was a prostitute, but she would ultimately become the great-grandmother of King David.

David, וּנְעִים זְמִרוֹת יִשְׂרָאֵֽל, “the sweet singer of Israel” (II Sam. 23:1), as recorded in the Psalms, had Uriah killed in battle to cover up the adulterous affair, and resulting pregnancy, he had with Uriah’s wife.

Dear reader, these are real accounts of real lives. The Bible did not whitewash them, or make them more socially acceptable. It just recorded who they were, all, incidentally, ancestors of Messiah Yeshua/Jesus. Each one under the law of sin. Some were outside of God’s covenant community: gentiles. Yet, forgiveness and reconciliation took their sin and renewed it for God’s purpose, and His glory.

People often struggle with the idea that they cannot be used by God because of their past. These boring genealogies say otherwise.

Contrary to what we believe, they say the Lord can take a prostitute and make her the grandmother of King David. They say He can take David and make him the grandfather of the Savior.

What we discover as we read through Messiah’s genealogy is the evidence that hope was kept alive for 2,000 years by the Lord, until hope arrived in the flesh.

Friends, you, with your past, your present and your future are helping to keep hope alive until he returns. Tamar had to act the prostitute, Rehab was the prostitute, David was the murdering adulterer, and the list could go on.

Redemptive history is the record of the covenant Lord using imperfect people for his perfect plan until Yeshua returns. You never know how your words of wisdom, reflecting on a renewed past, will be the source of hope for someone who only sees a hopeless end (Ro. 8:28-29).

Give those seeking this hope for tomorrow, to the horizon and again, and let them see the power of redemption in the face of the pharaohs of this world. How will He demonstrate this hope? You. Moses and Aaron led because they were part of the family. In Him, you are part of the family as well, and will help lead others out of their darkness, into His marvelous light.

Be well. Shalom.

Thorns Overcame Our Excuses

The Book of Exodus opens with names; yet one name becomes prominent in the text from the start: Moses. Moses, the great rescuer of Israel, would first need to be rescued.

Perhaps it was the twists and turns of his life, born under a ban and rescued into pharaohs house, only to end up in a remote, desolate wilderness, that caused Moses to believe he was unqualified for God’s call, and therefore, he had an excuse.

Yet, Moses did live up to his name. Moses comes from a root meaning “drawn forth, bring out, pull out,” but the heart of the name speaks of rescue. He rescues a Hebrew, he rescues the daughters of Jethro, and the rabbis speculate that Moses was attempting to rescue a lost sheep when he noticed the burning bush, leaving the many for the one.

Upon seeing the burning bush, Moses says:

וַיֹּאמֶר מֹשֶׁה–אָסֻרָה-נָּא וְאֶרְאֶה, אֶת-הַמַּרְאֶה הַגָּדֹל הַזֶּה: מַדּוּעַ, לֹא-יִבְעַר הַסְּנֶה

“Let me turn aside now to see this fantastic sight; why the bush is not burnt?”

Here at this paradoxical sight, Moses is called by the Lord. In Exodus 3, the Lord says that He is sending Moses – the Rescuer – to pull Israel out of Egypt: as a child being delivered from the womb. Moses says, “Send someone else! They won’t listen to me. Who am I to go into to Pharaoh? I can’t speak.” Can you relate to excuses?

The Lord appears to Moses on a סְנֶה, a thorn bush, in a wilderness called סִין, thorn/clay, on a mountain called חֹרֵֽבָה, Horeb/destruction, the first mountain bump on the Sinai range, Sinai, סִינַי, thorny/mucky. סְנֶה, סִין, סִינַי, are all related and carry the meaning of prickly or sticky. They are also related to the word שִׂנְאָה, hated. How do we respond when we get caught by a thorn, or our when our shoes get stuck in sticky mud?

Moses purposefully settles and spends forty years of his life in a hated, barren and dangerous place, simply because he didn’t want to be involved. Yet, the fire of God settled, and the Messiah, the Angel of the Lord, covered the prickly, hated bush, believed to be a type of fruit bearing bush, perhaps a variety of blackberry. Moses simply did not want to bear fruit, because he did not want the responsibility. He wanted things to remain as they had been: sheep, mountains, quiet.

Moses, called from the fire upon the סְנֶה, thorn bush, to the ministry of the Lord, will be called from סִינַי, Sinai, a thorny/sticky place, to build a nations of priests: servants.

The Torah given from Sinai, the Word of God, pricks our natural man – it hurts, it entangles, it sticks us to something undesirable, it makes us accountable. All of this is responsibility. “Take My message out…” No, I can’t, I don’t know how, people will be mad, insulted, upset…” The voice calls out from an undesirable place: in the midst of the fiery thorns.

When we ask, “Who am I? The Lord replies, “What’s your excuse?” And here’s why…

Dear reader: what we are seeing at the Burning Bush and Sinai is the Word of God appearing in the midst of thorn and fire – caught up in the hated place. Hated without cause. Hated because it slows us down, and causes inconvenience.

The scene on the Cross is the ultimate reality of the Lord in the Burning Bush. As Messiah – the messenger of the Lord – doesn’t appear burning above or on the thorn bush but wrapped in the thorn bush as He is crucified in a Crown of Thorns.

The Word of God caught up for us. Caught up in the hated place. Caught up in the dreaded place. Caught up in the place of our fears, excuses, our sin.

The Word made flesh crowned, taking the pain of our inability, of our reticence to fulfill the call of Heaven in our lives. Moses was told go from the bush. Israel was told go from Sinai. We are told go by the One crowned with thorns.

Paul resisted the call of Heaven on his life until Messiah in a bright light appeared to him and said, “It’s hard to kick against what is pricking you.” Upon hearing the words of Peter in Acts 2:37, Luke says that those assembled were “pricked in the heart,” their response being “what should we do?”

We are without excuse in Messiah. He has taken our excuse. He has taken our fear. He has taken our inconvenience. He has taken our doubt. He has taken our shame. He has taken our sin. He has been crowned with it, in order to carry it to death and the grave in order to overcome our deepest place of excuse – as Paul exclaimed, “O death where is thy sting”…O death were is thy pricking of me…” For we have overcome.

Moses was certain of death should he hear and obey the voice the Lord. Israel was certain of death to hear and obey the voice of the Lord. What we greatly fear, Messiah has already taken, in order that we now hear and obey the voice of the Lord without excuse or reservation. He is no longer speaking from a thorny place, because our the hearts have been pricked and sealed by the Holy Spirit. He now speaks to us from His abiding presence, as our Emmanuel (Heb. 1:1-3), and our salvation.

Who am I? We ask the Lord. He says, “You are My child.”

Be well. Shalom.

The Fragrant Name

וְאֵלֶּה שְׁמוֹת בְּנֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל הַבָּאִים מִצְרָיְמָה אֵת יַעֲקֹב אִישׁ וּבֵיתוֹ בָּֽאוּ

“And these are the names of the sons of Israel who went into Egypt with Jacob, each man with his house” (Ex. 1:1).

The conjunctive “ו/vav”, as I’ve translated it, “and”, that begins the Book of Exodus is connecting the beginning of a new era in Israel’s history to that which preceded it, specifically the concluding verses of Genesis (50:24-26) to the end of Joseph’s life. Moses masterfully secures this connection, the continuing story of Israel, with names: שְׁמוֹת. As we read the opening verses of Exodus 1 we find that Joseph and the immediate generations have died, and now:

ויקם מלך־חדש על־מצרים אשר לא־ידע את־יוסף

“And a new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph” (Ex. 1:8).

Why should a later Egyptian pharaoh know Joseph? Simply, Joseph saved Egypt. This pharaoh knew neither the name nor the story of Joseph. He only knew that a people were increasing in his midst, and they posed a threat (Ex. 1:9-10). Because he did not know, he unleashed generational suffering upon those he feared. Interestingly, his name is no more, while the name of Joseph yet endures.

Names.

The Bible is full of names. Some of the names are familiar to us; while others, we wonder why they are included at all. Each name is a connection: to a person, place, moment, event, and life. They all speak to the history of how God brought us to now. They connect us to the past, but also to the Lord’s future.

We often wrestle with legacy, as an enduring connection to the future. Will our names be remembered in three or four generations? Perhaps, deep down, we connect legacy to a type of enduring survival. What, then, is in a legacy?

At times I’m not sure how my mind works. There are a dizzying number of names and faces stored in my mind. Often, if you were to ask, I couldn’t tell you what I had for dinner the previous night. Yet, a name that belongs to a face coming toward me, who I have not seen in some time or met only once, will often come to mind without hesitation. Why? Perhaps how it is stored. Not, metaphorically speaking, in my mind, but rather, in my heart. They are remembered, but why? Perhaps it’s an aroma. Solomon wrote:

טוֹב שֵׁם מִשֶּׁמֶן טוֹב

“A good name is better than good, precious oil,” (Ecc. 7:1).

Olive oil, good for light, fragrance, healing, and food, was precious and costly; but Solomon says, a good name is better. How is the good name cultivated? Names were often associated with character, how people view you and those with whom you associate. The property of the olive oil was limited to where it was, and its use; while, the aroma of a good name lingered and spread across distance, time, even generations. A good name was a pleasant aroma.

Followers of Messiah, the Anointed One, often model properties of olive oil (that would be a separate article) as the ethical good commanded in Scripture, nevertheless, the fragrance is to be Jesus. Paul writes:

“For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life. Who is sufficient for these things?” (II Cor. 2:15-16).

Caught up now, in His life and fragrance, our lives, legacy, even our eternity has changed. The legacy of Joseph and the sons of Israel have endured in the forever Word, but what of our names? To His disciples Yeshua/Jesus says:

“… rejoice that your names are written in heaven” (Lk. 10.20), in the Lambs book of life (Rev. 13:8).

We are still impacted by Joseph, his brothers and fathers; and in Messiah, we become caught up in His eternal legacy, with His brothers, sisters, and, above all, His Father. The Lord graciously records the names of His faithful in His Books, and never has to recall either face or name, because we are eternally before Him in His heart, becoming part of His fragrance: the fragrance of so great a cloud of witnesses (Heb. 12:1).

What does our name mean to others? Perhaps it’s the fragrance that is remembered, the name only to identify; if so, let it always be His fragrant life and name that goes before us. We are momentary oil, pressed and used for His glory, but fragrant in Him forever, as His renown spreads into an endless age. And with that aroma, He is well pleased.

To God be the glory.

Be well. Shalom.