The Unconsumed God Text: Exodus 3:1-6
Introduction: When God Invades
We live in an age that has domesticated God. For many, He is a therapeutic sentiment, a cosmic affirmation, a principle of personal growth. He is a God who would never dare to interrupt your regularly scheduled programming. He is a God who can be managed, contained, and summoned by our spiritual techniques or emotional needs. He is, in short, a God made in our own image, which is to say, no God at all.
The modern man, if he thinks of a "calling," thinks of finding his passion, or discovering his inner voice. It is a journey of self-discovery. But the biblical doctrine of calling is nothing of the sort. It is not a journey of self-discovery, but a divine invasion. It is the sovereign God of heaven and earth breaking into the mundane, predictable course of a man's life and overturning all of his plans. It is not something you find; it is something that finds you. And it usually finds you when you least expect it, in the last place you would think to look.
Consider Moses. He is eighty years old. Forty years prior, he was a prince of Egypt, a man of power and prestige, educated in all the wisdom of the most advanced civilization on earth. He tried to be Israel's deliverer in his own strength, with his own sword, and the result was murder and exile. Now, forty years have passed in the wilderness of Midian. The fire of his youthful ambition has long since died out. He is a fugitive, a shepherd, married to the daughter of a local priest, living a quiet, forgotten life on the backside of the desert. If you were looking for the man to take on a superpower, Moses would not be on your list. And that is precisely why God chose him. God does not call the qualified. He qualifies the called. He waits until we are emptied of our own strength, our own wisdom, and our own plans, so that when He acts, there is no question as to who gets the glory.
The story of the burning bush is not a charming fable for Sunday School. It is a tectonic event in the history of redemption. It is the moment when the holy God, the uncreated and untamable One, collides with the profane world. It is a story about the nature of God, the nature of holiness, and the nature of a true divine call. And it establishes a pattern that holds true for every believer who is called out of the wilderness of sin and into the service of the King.
The Text
Now Moses was pasturing the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian; and he led the flock to the west side of the wilderness and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. And the angel of Yahweh appeared to him in a blazing fire from the midst of the bush; and he looked, and behold, the bush was burning with fire, yet the bush was not consumed. So Moses said, "I must turn aside now and see this marvelous sight. Why is the bush not burned up?" And Yahweh saw that he turned aside to look, so God called to him from the midst of the bush and said, "Moses, Moses!" And he said, "Here I am." Then He said, "Do not come near here. Remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground." He said also, "I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob." Then Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God.
(Exodus 3:1-6 LSB)
The Mundane Before the Miraculous (v. 1)
We begin with the setting, which is gloriously ordinary.
"Now Moses was pasturing the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian; and he led the flock to the west side of the wilderness and came to Horeb, the mountain of God." (Exodus 3:1)
God's great interruptions rarely happen when we are on a spiritual retreat, trying to manufacture a mystical experience. They happen when we are doing our jobs. Moses was being a faithful shepherd. David was called from tending sheep. Elisha was called while plowing a field. The apostles were called while mending their nets. God honors faithful, mundane work. He entrusts His kingdom to men who have learned responsibility in small things. For forty years, Moses had been learning patience, humility, and guidance in the wilderness with a flock of sheep. It was the perfect seminary for the task of leading God's stiff-necked flock out of Egypt.
Notice also where he is. He is led to Horeb, which the text calls "the mountain of God." This is another name for Sinai. The text calls it the mountain of God before the Law is ever given there. God's purpose for this place was established before Moses ever arrived. Moses thinks he is just leading sheep to a new pasture, but God's meticulous providence is leading him to a divine appointment. There are no accidents in the life of the believer. Your daily commute, your tedious job, your wanderings in the wilderness, are all being orchestrated by a sovereign hand to bring you to the place He has appointed for you.
The Unconsumed Fire (v. 2-3)
In the midst of this ordinary day, God breaks in with a sight that is anything but ordinary.
"And the angel of Yahweh appeared to him in a blazing fire from the midst of the bush; and he looked, and behold, the bush was burning with fire, yet the bush was not consumed. So Moses said, 'I must turn aside now and see this marvelous sight. Why is the bush not burned up?'" (Exodus 3:2-3 LSB)
First, notice who appears. It is "the angel of Yahweh." But in verse 4, it is Yahweh Himself who speaks from the bush. Throughout the Old Testament, this figure, the Angel of the Lord, is presented as both distinct from Yahweh and identical to Him. This is a Christophany, a pre-incarnate appearance of the second person of the Trinity, the eternal Son. The Word who would one day take on flesh and dwell among us here appears in a flame of fire.
The fire itself is a consistent symbol of God's presence. He is a consuming fire (Heb. 12:29). His presence is one of absolute purity, holiness, and righteous judgment. But the miracle here is not the fire; it is the bush. The bush, a common, thorny desert shrub, is engulfed in this holy fire, yet it is not consumed. This is a profound visual sermon. The bush is a picture of Israel, afflicted in the furnace of Egypt, yet not destroyed because God is in their midst. It is a picture of the Church, persecuted throughout the ages, yet preserved by the presence of her Lord. It is a picture of the individual believer, in whom the Holy Spirit dwells, a sinner who is not consumed by God's holiness because of the grace of Christ.
And ultimately, this is a picture of Christ Himself. In Jesus, the fullness of the fiery Godhead dwelt in a human body, a humble "bush," and He was not consumed. He is the one place where the infinite holiness of God and the finitude of man meet, not for destruction, but for redemption.
Moses's reaction is key. "I must turn aside." He pays attention. He recognizes that this is not normal. God puts signs in the world, but they require us to have the spiritual sense to stop, to turn from our path, and to investigate. Our culture of perpetual distraction is a spiritual anesthetic, designed to keep us from ever turning aside to see the great sights of God.
The Personal Summons (v. 4)
God does not speak until Moses turns. God honors the attention we give Him.
"And Yahweh saw that he turned aside to look, so God called to him from the midst of the bush and said, 'Moses, Moses!' And he said, 'Here I am.'" (Exodus 3:4 LSB)
The call is personal. "Moses, Moses!" The repetition of the name denotes intimacy and urgency. This is not a general broadcast; it is a direct summons from the Creator to the creature. God knows your name. He is not a distant force; He is a personal God who calls individuals out of their obscurity and into His story.
And Moses gives the only proper reply: "Here I am." This is the posture of a servant. It is not "Who, me?" or "I'm busy." It is a statement of availability and submission. It is the surrender of his own agenda. Before he knows what the call entails, he reports for duty. This is the first step of faith.
Holy Ground (v. 5-6)
Before God gives the commission, He establishes the terms of the encounter. This is an encounter with holiness.
"Then He said, 'Do not come near here. Remove your sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.' He said also, 'I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.' Then Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God." (Exodus 3:5-6 LSB)
The first command is a boundary. "Do not come near." You do not approach the holy God of the universe on your own terms. He sets the rules of engagement. This immediately demolishes our modern, casual, buddy-Christ sentimentality. God is not your pal. He is the sovereign Lord, and there is an infinite qualitative distinction between Him and us. The second command is "Remove your sandals." This was an act of humility, reverence, and recognition that one was leaving the common and entering the sacred. You take off the dust and filth of the world before you stand in the presence of the pure one.
What made this ground holy? It was not the soil composition. It was the presence of God. Holiness is not a property of places or things; it is the result of the presence of the Holy One. This means that any place, your kitchen, your car, your office, can become a sanctuary when the living God meets you there. And when He does, you are on holy ground, and the proper response is reverence.
Then God identifies Himself. He does not give a philosophical treatise. He says, "I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob." This is crucial. He is the God of covenant. He is the God who makes promises and keeps them across generations. He is reminding Moses that this fiery encounter is not some new thing. It is the continuation of a redemptive plan set in motion centuries before. He is the God of history, and He is faithful to His Word.
Moses's response is the only sane one. "Moses hid his face, for he was afraid to look at God." This is not the cowering of a slave, but the reverential awe of a creature before His Creator. A true vision of God will always humble us. It will make us profoundly aware of our sin, our smallness, our creatureliness. Isaiah, Job, Peter, and John all had the same reaction. If your spiritual experiences always leave you feeling puffed up and proud, you have not met the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. You have met an idol of your own making.
The Gospel in the Bush
This entire encounter is a template for our own salvation. We are all Moses, wandering in the wilderness of our sin, fugitives from God's justice, tending to the worthless flock of our own ambitions.
Then God intrudes. He presents us with a "marvelous sight", the gospel of His Son. The cross is the ultimate burning bush. On that tree, the consuming fire of God's holy wrath against sin was poured out upon Jesus. And yet, in His divine nature, He was not consumed. In Him, the holiness of God and the sin of man met, and the result was not annihilation, but atonement.
The gospel calls to each one of us, "Turn aside and see this great sight." It demands that we stop our frantic, self-important lives and behold the Lamb of God. When we do, when we turn to Him in faith, He calls us by name. He speaks to us through His Word, a personal summons.
He commands us to "remove our sandals," to cast off the filthy rags of our own righteousness and stand before Him only on the "holy ground" provided by the finished work of Christ. We cannot approach God in our own merit. We can only approach Him because we stand on the ground made holy by the blood of His Son.
And when we come, He identifies Himself to us as the covenant-keeping God, the God of Abraham, who has now, through Christ, grafted us into His family and made us heirs of His promises. The only proper response is to hide our faces, to bow in humble adoration, overwhelmed by His holiness and astounded by His grace. The call of God is always a call to come and die, to leave the wilderness of self-rule, and to follow the God who speaks from the fire.