When God called Moses to lead Israel out of Egypt, Moses immediately wrestled with doubt: “Who am I that I should go?” Like many of us, he looked at his weaknesses, his past failures, and his inadequacy. But instead of answering with Moses’ résumé, God revealed His own identity: “I AM WHO I AM.” In other words, Moses’ confidence was not to be found in himself but in the presence of the unchanging, all-sufficient God who was sending him.

The Israelites had been crying out in slavery for years, and it may have seemed like heaven was silent. But in Exodus 3, God reminds us that He is not distant or unaware. He sees our suffering. He told Moses, “I have surely seen the oppression of My people… I know their sorrows.” And then He makes a promise: “I have come down to deliver them.” Isn’t that reassuring? Our God doesn’t just watch from afar; He steps into our pain with the intention to rescue and restore.

Moses wasn’t in a temple when God called him. He wasn’t at a special service or on a spiritual retreat. He was doing his everyday job-tending sheep in the wilderness-when suddenly, an ordinary bush became extraordinary. The ground he had walked on countless times before was transformed into holy ground, simply because God showed up. This is a powerful reminder that God doesn’t just meet us in church buildings; He shows up in the ordinary moments of our lives and makes them sacred.

When Moses fled from Egypt into the wilderness, it might have looked like failure. He had gone from the palace to the desert, from being a prince to tending sheep. Yet, what seemed like a setback was really God’s setup. The wilderness wasn’t punishment, it was preparation. For forty years, God shaped Moses in solitude, humility, and dependence. By the time the burning bush appeared, Moses was no longer the impulsive prince but a man ready to be God’s instrument of deliverance.

Moses’ story begins with danger, but it also reveals God’s hidden hand at work. Pharaoh had commanded that every Hebrew boy be killed, yet God preserved Moses in the very heart of Pharaoh’s household. The one who was supposed to die became the one who would eventually lead Israel out of slavery. Isn’t that just like God? He rescues one life in secret to prepare for the salvation of many.

Fear has a way of silencing us, especially when authority or danger is involved. The king of Egypt had given a terrifying command: kill every Hebrew boy at birth. For two midwives, Shiphrah and Puah, the choice was clear but costly: obey Pharaoh or honor God. They chose faith over fear. Instead of bowing to the most powerful man in the land, they stood firm before the Almighty, proving that reverence for God outweighs the threats of men.

Sometimes what begins as a place of blessing can slowly become a place of bondage. For the Israelites, Egypt was once a refuge from famine, a land where Joseph’s influence had opened doors of provision and favor. But over time, comfort without alignment to God’s calling turned into captivity. What was once a place of safety became a place of slavery. Isn’t it true that many times in life, the very things that once gave us comfort can also trap us if we hold on too tightly?

In our culture, wisdom is often measured by how well someone speaks, how many degrees they have, or how convincing their arguments sound. But James flips the script. He says if you’re truly wise, prove it with your life. Wisdom, according to God, is not about how much you say-it’s about how well you live. It’s not found in clever words, but in humble actions.

Let’s be honest: controlling our tongue is hard. One minute we’re encouraging someone, and the next we’re snapping at a loved one or venting online. James doesn’t sugarcoat it-he says the tongue is a “restless evil, full of deadly poison.” And then he drops the bombshell: no human being can tame it. That can sound discouraging-until you remember that what we can’t do, God can.