Moses. Adopted and raised in the family of the Pharaoh of Egypt, surrounded by opulence & power became a runaway, in trouble with the law and reduced to being a shepherd in some backwater hill country. Imagine his surprise at finding a bush, that was burning yet not consumed! He hears what can only be the voice of God telling him that he is on holy ground and to remove his shoes. In my imagination, the conversation basically runs like this:
"Moses, I want you to go back to Egypt and free my people."
Looking around Moses says "Lord God of the Universe! Maker of Heaven & Earth! King of all Creation! You ... have ... got the WRONG GUY!" Moses drops his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, "Don't you know that I'm a wanted man by Egyptian authorities? Not to mention I'm also hated by YOUR people." Now his voice raises a bit, getting agitated. "No one's going to hear me and no one's going to believe me. You want them freed? You go! Or better yet, find someone else to do your dirty-work."
Moses now starts looking around frantically for a way of escape. Running away worked once, it's worth a try again. "Besides," he wheedles, edging along the canyon wall, "I don't speak so good, and you need a great speaker for such an important task. The one YOU want is ... uh ... my ... my BROther, Aaron!" By now, he's wondering if the bush will chase after him if he runs, "Yeah THAT's the guy YOU want. Man, he can sing like an angel and talk like a preacher." Relief flooding his voice Moses boldly contines, "Yeah, Aaron! (under his breath) never liked him that much anyway... You should send HIM on your little journey of DEATH! Not me. Hey, I don't even listen to mySELF when I talk and when I sing? The SHEEP even run away. Besides, what makes you think anyone will believe me when I tell them You sent me?"
"Moses? What do you have in your hand?"
"uuhhh, nothin' ..."
"The OTHER hand, Moses."
"Oh! This old thing? It's just a rod. Yep. A plain old rod... Nope, nothin' special about this beat up stick of wood..."
"Well, throw it down Moses."
"um... do you mean like on the ground?"
"Yes. Throw it down, Moses... as you say... on the ground."
"You know, a rod's a pretty useful thing to have around. If I throw this away, well, You know, no one wants to be caught rod-less!"
"Throw it down, Moses."
"I raised this rod from a twig..."
"Throw it DOWN."
"OK! There, you happy... WHOA!" Imagine Moses' surprise to see this rod--something he'd probably made himself, something that kept him safe, something he had come to trust and lean on--turn into a snake! A desert viper, perhaps. Venemous & crafty. Something one could not trust. Something that hides waiting to ambush unsuspecting prey. Something that strikes with no warning; no mercy.
Moses sense of loss, fear and revulsion may have been acute and shocking but his reaction would have been mild compared to his response at what God said next, "Now Moses, pick it up... by the tail."
"Uummm, Lord? I realize You may not have been here in the desert very long so I want to explain something to you. Only Steve Urwin the Crocodile Hunter picks up a snake by the tail! I mean you grab a snake by the tail and he'll WHIP around and..."
"Pick it UP, Moses."
Muttering, "Wasn't it one of these that got us kicked out of the Garden?"
"PICK IT UP, Moses!"
"Ok! Ok!" As Moses bent to pick up the rod-become-snake his life may have flashed before his eyes. As his fingers closed around the scaly tail, eyes tightly shut waiting for the moment of pain that would mark the beginning of the end of his life, imagine his surprise once more to find he held... a rod in his hand. It was the same rod... but ... NOT the same. He may have thrown down the rod of Moses... but he picked up the rod of God.
That precious thing that Moses threw to the ground, yielded his rights to, and gave to God became something that God could use to do things Moses could never have accomplished before. With the Rod of God, he would strike the rock and bring forth water. With the Rod of God, he would part the waters of the Red Sea. With the Rod of God, Moses set God's people free.
Bob Pierce was a missionary to Asia more than 50 years ago. He was invited to address the children of a series of Dutch missionary schools. For a week, he spoke to 600 children many of whom gave their hearts to God. "Now, you must go home and tell your parents. Tell them you are Christians now and will only worship the one true God." Satisfied that he had fulfilled his calling in that place, he prepared to return home.
As he left, he wanted to stop by the Dutch missionary's home & say goodbye but was surprised to find her standing outside her home holding a child. As he got nearer, he saw that the child's dress was torn, and her back bleeding. Bob ran to the missionary and asked what had happened, who was responsible for this?
"You," she said. "This child did exactly what you told her to. She went home, told her parents she was a Christian and would only serve the one true God. Her father screamed at her, beat her and threw her out of the house saying that she had defiled her ancestors and that she was now dead to him." The missionary stepped forward and placed the child in Bob's arms. "What will you do about it? I cannot take her in. I already have 6 children eating out of my rice bowl."
Stunned, Bob fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a $5 bill. "This is all I have" he said.
The missionary took it and said, "This will buy her rice, some cloth to make a new dress, and a slate for her to attend school. You will send me this same amount every month and I will find a warm place for her to sleep and see that she is safe and educated." He never forgot that event.
Five years later, Bob Pierce stood before a large group of Chinese pastors and told this story. Afterwards, he prayed this simple prayer. "May my heart be broken, by the things that break the heart of God." He urged the pastors to do the same thing he had been doing for the last 5 years for the child he had held in his arms. Her name was White Jade and she was the 1st child to be sponsored by the organization that came to be known as World Vision.
That was more than 50 years ago. Today, World Vision is one of the largest children's relief organizations in the world giving hope to more than 3 million of the smallest, weakest, and most vulnerable segment of the world's population.
Charlotte Elliott was a vivacious and active young woman in England more than 200 years ago. Known for writing poetry, and her artwork, her father was known for taking in traveling ministers as they passed through town. Charlotte was struck down at an early age with what we now feel may have been Chronic Fatigue Syndrome which eventually left here nearly bedridden, with no energy to do more than move about a bit. She began to become bitter and cynical in response to her illness and felt unworthy to be used by God. She would broach the subject with many of the ministers as they ate meals with the family.
"How is it," she would say, "that God could use me? How am I to approach Him?" Most ministers would recite platitudes such as "Pray more" or "Read the Bible more" or "Resolve to do better." none of which helped her at all to cope with her condition. Then one day, a minister named Dr. Cesar Malan came to stay with them. When Charlotte again, asked the question she finally got an answer she did not expect.
"How are you to approach God, Miss Elliott? Why, just as you are."
Charlotte was stunned by the simple answer for only a moment. "Why, Dr. Malan, should I not pray more? Read the Bible more? Resolve to do better?"
"You may, if you like Miss Elliott..." Cesar responded. "However, do you honestly believe that you have anything of value that you could possibly bring before an all-mighty God? That you could do anything to impress Him? There is nothing you can fail at that will make Him love you less, and nothing you can do to make Him love you more. You must come to him, just as you are." The conversation had a profound impact on Charlotte's life and was instrumental in her making a decision to accept the Lord as her personal Savior.
Over the years, Charlotte continued to be plagued by Chronic Fatigue, unable to do the simplest things. When her brother, Rev. Henry V. Elliott, began a fund-raising campaign to start a school for the daughters of Ministers (at that time only boys enjoyed rudimentary education) she was deeply troubled that she could not help, as she expressed one day during his routine visits.
"Morning, old thing!" Henry said as he popped into her room and flopped into a chair near her bed. "Do you know what I've been doing all day? I've been preparing for tomorrow's bazaar! Arranging all the booths, spreading out clothing & the other donations so things look nice and people will buy loads. We are very much hopeful of bringing in the money we need to get St. Mary's school going. And we... Charlotte? What's wrong?"
Charlotte's eyes had fallen to the seemingly useless hands in her lap. "Oh Henry," she said, "I feel so... useless. I can't even get out of bed to help with the Bazaar."
"Oh, posh old thing! We've got in well in hand." Casting about for something to change the subject his eyes fell on a piece of paper on her bed side table. "What ho! What have we here? The famous Miss Charlotte has been composing again, I see."
"What? That? Phaw! That's nothing. I wrote it last night thinking about how little I could do to help and how greatly God still loves me despite the fact. I remembered something that Dr. Malan said many years ago. Do you remember him?"
"Remember him?" Henry said, "How could I forget the one that finally brought you to the feet of our Lord? Yes, I remember him well enough." As he read through the lines on the page, his eyes welled and his voice cracked a bit. "Charlotte... do you mind if I take this? Show it to some people?"
"That? Take it. I shouldn't think much will come of it." Charlotte could not have been more wrong. They printed that poem, and sold it and my understanding is that the proceeds from the sale of that poem brought in more than the entire bazaar. Even beyond that, what she had written on that piece of paper would one day be set to music and become one of the most recognizable hymns in history.
"Just as I am, without one plea,
but that thy blood was shed for me,
and that thou bidst me come to thee,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come."
It found its way into nearly every major hymnal, and became a hallmark of many great preachers including the call to altar song for Billy Graham crusades. This story has a particular and personal meaning for me. I first heard it when I was 6 years old, watching a televised Billy Graham Crusade and praying the sinner's prayer along with Billy.
God never asked Charlotte Elliott to write a hymn that would touch the lives of millions of people. God never asked Bob Pierce to found an organization that would give hope to over 3 million children around the world. He only asked them to lay down what they had in their hands... just as he did with Moses.
So, what is it that you hold in your hands? In what do you place your trust? Your security? Your hope? God wants you to lay that down and see it for what it is; and imperfect reflection of what you could be. He also wants you to lay it down so He can ask you to pick it up again as something He can use through you. With our own talents, we can do little. With talents, given to God and returned to us there's little we cannot do.
