savior

Exodus 3:7-10 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."

Things have gotten tough for the Israelites in Egypt, and the people begin to cry out for a savior. I wonder what they thought of who they got?

Out of the desert comes a middle-aged man, on foot, with a shepherd’s staff. Many of the people probably remembered him: This is Moses, that failed prince turned murderer who had to get out of town to escape justice. His last attempt to help hadn’t gone so well, and here he is again. Alone, just like last time. I’d be surprised if that looked like salvation to them.

Jesus didn’t look like salvation to his generation, either. And too often he doesn’t look like it to mine. This morning, I’m wondering how often I have something to do with that.

For a few hundred people I see every day, and maybe a couple thousand more I interact with intermittently, I’m one of the most visible markers of Christianity. I’m out there; I’ve never made any secret of my faith, and I’ve told people about Jesus as overtly as circumstances reasonably allow. I have no idea who all may be watching, but I do know some who are. I know of a wonderful family of atheists. I know of several dozen lapsed Christians of many denominations. I know of two members of the LGBTQ community (sorry if I left some initials off but it’s so hard to keep up). All of these are people I work with and have friendships with.

I try to be open to all of them. I want to let them know that God sees them, just like he saw the Israelites in Egypt. He hears them, even when they address their frustrations and hopes elsewhere than him. He loves them, even though they’re sure he doesn’t. And he wants to save them – the Savior is already here, and I’m one of his foot soldiers.

But I bet sometimes they watch me and don’t see much that makes them want to take any path I’m on. At my best, I’m a poor representative for Jesus; at my worst I’m the most misleading kind of fake news. I must seem even less credible than Moses, the desert rat who crawled out of the wasteland after decades away and started telling people what to do.

I’m convicted this morning with the critical importance of my witness. And I’m comforted by the fact that no mistake I make can ever keep God from carrying out his plans.