This comes from a collection of stories in “Encouragement for Foolish Christians“, available now in paperback and eBook.

Moses breathed deep, his eyes too timid to look up to Pharaoh on his bejeweled throne knowing his next words could bring a death sentence like one he had barely escaped decades before.

It happened the first time we used his voice to honor God. Most of his life he spoke infrequently, a result of an embarrassing speech impediment and his oppressed lineage. Although he was counted as a member of Pharaoh’s household, it was only by a miracle. Born a Hebrew, he should have been killed in infancy but for his mother’s quick thinking and his Egyptian adoptive mother’s compassion.

While his royal Egyptian status allowed him to roam freely, he never felt he could speak freely. As a child, his Egyptian peers would mock him, saying, “You’re not really one of us, slave boy,”; this did not sting as much as the Hebrew children not speaking to him at all. He felt simultaneously Egyptian and Hebrew, and neither, and the latter convinced him he had no authority to speak in either space.

He longed to speak, though, especially as he witnessed the oppression of his Hebrew people. Enslavement had long been their story, and over time each new Pharaoh felt more threatened by this thriving population. Moses heard stories of the long hours and the beatings, yet could never muster the courage to appeal to the King of Egypt.

Even so, his anger grew from a flame to an inferno, bursting out one arid day as he stood on the edge of the labor camp. His ear pricked at a repetitive thud and multiple muffled cries; rounding an embankment he saw a young Hebrew limping away as an Egyptian wiped blood from his fists with laughter. Moses did not hesitate; ensuring there were no witnesses, he quietly rushed up behind the man, overtook him, and killed him. His heart racing at what he had done, he shoved the body into a crevice and covered it with sand.

I have to protect my people, right? Moses rambled under his breath as he hurried to the palace. And I am a son of Pharaoh, I have a right to apply justice as I see fit! By the time he crossed the threshold he was convinced God had positioned him to be the hero of his people. He awoke a new man – the royal Hebrew protector – and returned to the labor camp with pride.

Just ahead he saw two Hebrews fighting, and discerning the aggressor he boldly shouted, “Why are you hitting your fellow Hebrew?”

Both men stopped and turned, a look of disdain passing to Moses as though their anger at each other transferred to him. “Who made you the ruler and judge over us?” the aggressor sneered. “Are you thinking of killing me as you killed the Egyptian?”

Any courage Moses had mustered was gone. They know! And if they know… Pharaoh will know! Word must have traveled faster than Moses to the palace, because every eye peered into him until a servant whispered, “He wants you dead!”

Moses shuddered at the memory. Those were the last words he heard in the palace for forty years until he arrived in Egypt days earlier for his first audience with the king. “Speak!” Pharaoh’s bark pierced the silence.

I can’t speak, God… speaking nearly got me killed last time, it will get me killed now. Moses discretely glanced at his brother Aaron beside him, who grew uncomfortable waiting for direction. My voice is so useless God needed to send Aaron; why am I even here at all?

He suddenly felt the heat of God’s anger as he was whisked back to that moment by a bush engulfed in flames. The heat had been steady the entire time he was in God’s presence, but felt different when he muttered, “Pardon your servant, Lord. Please send someone else.”

It was not an unreasonable request; he couldn’t speak well, his last time using his voice was rejected and led to exile, and there was no way the Hebrews would listen to him now. God is mistaken.

Deep down, he knew he was the one in the wrong. God had already endured his repeated rejections with patience:
“Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?”
“What if they question me? Then what would I say?”
“What if they do not believe me or listen to me?”
“Pardon your servant, but I cannot speak well enough, never have, and can’t even now.”

No matter how bluntly God said he would be with Moses and spelled out how, nothing in Moses wanted to be God’s voice before Pharaoh. I will use my voice to let God know He chose the wrong man; once again, speaking did not go well for Moses, and his heart broke as God accommodated his trepidation.

“Moses…” Aaron’s voice startled him from the memory, and he realized he had no clue how much time had passed. Speaking to Pharaoh was dangerous; refusing to speak could be suicidal. Moses looked up at the King and cleared his throat. This was their second audience with him, and the first had been disastrous.

God, the last time I spoke in this hall it ruined everything. You said people would listen… Moses knew Pharaoh would not – God had warned him – but he had grown optimistic the Hebrews would back him. When he and Aaron had gathered the elders upon arriving in Jerusalem, it was the first time he felt received by his own people. His words and signs led them to bow and cry in worship to God, “Praise to you, who has renewed His concern for His people!”

It built in Moses a courage akin to that he felt after killing the Egyptian; he was God’s chosen protector of his people! Armed with words from God and a supernatural staff, they boldly confronted Pharaoh.

Moses could not have imagined how bad things would turn because of their words; that same day, Pharaoh stripped the people of their resources, demanding they find their own while producing the same quota. Beatings increased and the people went from hopeful to dismayed overnight. “May the LORD look on you and judge you,” the Israelite overseers shouted at Moses and Aaron, “You have made us obnoxious to Pharaoh and now our lives are threatened!”

Moses wept before God that night. “Why, Lord, why have you brought trouble on this people? Is this why you sent me? Ever since I went to Pharoah to speak in your name, he has brought trouble on this people, and you have not rescued your people at all!”

“Now you will see what I will do,” the LORD responded, “I AM the LORD. I appeared to your forefathers Abraham, and Isaac, and Jacob, and I will make myself known.”

Moses took in God’s words with more humility than before, and their power became real; “I AM” carried a weight too grand for so few letters. He rushed to convey the message to the Israelites, but they refused to listen because of their heavy discouragement.

God was not deterred. “Go tell Pharaoh king of Egypt to let the Israelites go out of his country.”

Moses wanted to weep. He could neither deny the power and command of God nor the ineffectiveness of his own voice. Why had God called him to speak, the very thing that had led to such rejection, loss, and failure? Why could he not have been called to some other task that leaned on his strengths, his successes?

“If the Israelites will not listen to me, why would Pharaoh listen to me, since I speak with faltering lips?”

Moses’ mind returned to the palace. Sensing the eyes on him, he released a slow, long breath. He realized something he had missed in his last conversation with God. I questioned Him – rejected Him – once again, just as I did in the desert. And yet… He did not reject me. His anger should have burned more than before… instead, I feel something like love. Moses straightened and let his eyes confidently meet with Pharaoh’s.

My voice will never be enough; His will always be.

With that, Moses raised his staff and opened his mouth.