If I had been Moses, I would have asked whether I could put my shoes back on before we discussed my future. A man makes better decisions, I figure, when he has his shoes on.

In the third chapter of Exodus, Moses is tending his father-in-law’s sheep when he notices a bush on fire that won’t burn up. He goes over for a closer look. God calls his name. Moses says, “Here I am.” So far, so good. Then God tells him to take off his sandals. He’s standing on holy ground.

God has heard the cries of his people in Egypt and tells Moses he’s sending him to Pharaoh to bring them out. Moses asks, “Who am I?” Later he wonders what to say, what to do if nobody believes him, and whether God has considered the fact that public speaking is an area in which Moses has considerable room for growth. By the next chapter, Moses is asking God to send somebody else.

I understand Moses. I’ve been in enough church meetings to know that “Here I am” and “I’ll do it” are two entirely different items on the agenda.

We have made “yes, but” an art form. At church, we say, “Yes, we need more young families, but those children do make a lot of noise.” At home, we say, “Yes, we ought to get together,” and spend the next seventeen messages in the family group chat establishing that nobody can do Thursday. We want somebody to fix the traffic in Ruston, preferably without moving a single orange barrel into our lane.

My favorite “yes, but” comes when somebody suggests we try something new at church. “Yes, but we tried that once.” Ask when, and you’ll find out it was in 1987, three people came, and one of them was there to fix the ice machine. The matter is considered settled.

There are times when the person who says “yes, but” saves everybody a great deal of trouble. If I’m about to back over your mailbox, please feel free to interrupt. And Moses had good reason to be scared. He knew what Pharaoh could do. Still, I know how easily I can turn a reasonable concern into a comfortable place to sit. Give me ten minutes and a legal pad and I can make a pretty good case for leaving a good thing to somebody else.

What I love about the story is God’s answer to Moses’ first question. Moses asks, “Who am I?” God says, “I will be with you.” God knows who he’s talking to. He knows Moses is scared, and there are people in Egypt who have been crying out long enough.

The thing in front of us this week may be smaller than a trip to Pharaoh’s palace. Maybe there’s a neighbor we’ve been meaning to check on. “Yes, but I wouldn’t know what to say.” You could knock and start with “How are you?” Then stay long enough to hear the answer.

If it helps, you can leave your shoes on.

---