Moses felt as low as a slug’s belly. Way down there. He still hadn’t rid himself of the idea that he was supposed to be the deliverer, and that he was somehow failing. How many times had God explained it to him? Yet, like many of us, he had trouble keeping a grip on the Lord’s assurances.
What was Moses to do now? The message was a rerun of the last one: “Go, tell Pharaoh king of Egypt to let the sons of Israel go out of his land” (v. 11).
“Go to Pharaoh, Lord? My own people just bought me a one-way ticket caravan back to Midian, and You want me to go back to Pharaoh? R-r-r-e—m-m-m-em—ber m-m-me? I’m the guy who can’t t-t-t-talk. Shoot, I’d mess up a rock fight, Lord. I can’t get it together. I’m at the end of my rope. How in the world are You going to pull this off?”
Moses didn’t know it at the moment, but he’d put before the Lord the best proposition yet. I’m at the end of my rope. How are you going to do it?
Before we go any further, I’d like to underline a major truth in this world of ours that I don’t pretend to understand. Here it is: the best framework for the Lord God to do His most ideal work is when things are absolutely impossible and we feel totally unqualified to handle it. That’s His favorite circumstance. Those are His ideal working conditions.
In spite of the Lord’s assurances, things kept going from bad to worse for Moses. He’d already gotten the worst of it in a meeting with Pharaoh, and now, in a subsequent parley with the Israelites, he found himself fresh out of credibility. They would no longer listen to him.
Time after time, He brings us to our absolute end and then proves Himself faithful. That, my friend, is not only the story of my life, it’s the story of the Bible in a nutshell.