Burning Bush

There are times when I sense that I am with the God who is always with me. Times, usually unplanned, when I gain a glimpse of some new understanding that feeds my soul. Something in my spirit recognises that somehow this is a kind of revelation. Something that, if only I can grasp hold of it and make it a reality, will change who I am and how I am at a level deeper than consciousness.

Such moments are deeply precious, profoundly moving, and I long to stay there. To linger. To rest in a connection with the Eternal.

But life moves on and a moment is transient however much we have learnt to live in the present.

My heart is drawn to the story of Moses and his burning bush (Exodus 3). How unexpected and what a surprise. How profound his revelation and the challenge it presented. How painfully good to know he was in the presence of God. How did it feel when he realised the bush was not being consumed? Did he stare when the flames died and long for just one more word. Did his soul ache with reluctance to leave, to move on? Did fear begin to tickle even then? Had he dreamt it? Would anyone else believe it? How could he live the reality of having been in the presence of God?

‘No Lord, don’t ask me to leave’ – was his cry the same as mine? In the moments of ordinary life that followed, did he carry the moment with him? I am not the first to walk this way. The first to long to stay in this secret, sacred place. And I am left wondering, did Moses spend the rest of his life looking at bushes and wondering if they too might burst into flame? Did he long to return to that moment – did he even revisit the scene hoping to rekindle its reality? No matter how much he may have longed for that, searched for it, willed it to happen, that particular moment with God was gone and would never come again.

Lord, teach me to live those moments and to carry them with me. Teach me that you are as much in the homeward journey as in the burning bush.

There are times to sit with you and times to move on.