Exodus 2:15-17
My name is Moses.
Though God first rescued me when I was a baby, He’s rescued me over and over again. Yet there was one very special time that has stayed with me all these years. That day marked the end of the old Moses and the birth of a new self.
You likely remember that I’d been running for my life. Tired, sweaty, and weak from the heat, I dropped down beside a well. My impulsive, hot-headed temperament had landed me in deep trouble when I slayed that Egyptian, then foolishly tried to conceal the crime by burying him in the sand. Apparently, there were witnesses. When they ratted me out, I was compelled to flee.
That day, by the well, was my lowest point. Fearful, humiliated, doubting my own self-worth, I questioned God’s anointing on my life. Though my birth parents told me I was brought into this world for a special purpose, I’d failed to include God in that equation. I thought I could use my position, my influence, and my strength to make a difference – but God had a different plan. He would fulfill His promise to free the Israelites through HIS power – not mine.
Then Zipporah showed up, along with her sisters and their flocks. They were about to draw water when a band of shepherds arrived and chased them away. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a bully. I’d encountered my fair share of them in Egypt. Jumping right back into hero mode and my compulsive need to help the underdog, I came to the women’s rescue. I managed to fight off the shepherds and then helped the women draw water for their sheep.
After they left, I lingered by the well. It was too late to continue my trek into the desert, so I opted to camp there and resume my journey in the morning. The sun was dipping behind a mountain peak when Zipporah returned, her cheeks flushed from running, wisps of ebony hair breaking free from her head covering. She wore no fancy jewelry, no kohl, no adornments like my adoptive mother used to wear. Yet she was breathtaking.
“Come,” she said, her gaze cast to the ground. “My father is waiting for you.”
So I followed her.
Little did I know I would wed her and find a home amongst her people. God would use those years in the desert of Midian to break me of my pride and impulsive behavior. He would teach me the necessary skills for shepherding a stubborn, willful flock that would serve me well in later years. My father-in-law would teach me about Yahweh, thus continuing what my birthmother began while I was still on her knee. He would introduce me to a God who is both loving and hallowed, compassionate and holy, slow to anger yet just.
It was there, at that well, when I was at my lowest, that God met me and poured out blessing upon blessing. Little did I know what He had in store for me. Had I known how often the Israelites would test me and test God, I might have continued running. Yet, in His wisdom, Yahweh stopped me right where I needed to be, a place where He could strip me of my impetuous pride and replace it with a servant’s heart there, at the well.