What happens when the life you planned collapses and your worst failure seems to have settled what you can ever become? Exodus 3–4 brings that question to Moses, a fugitive tending sheep in the wilderness, when the holy God calls him from a burning bush and sends him toward the people and place he fled.

God sometimes feels very far away, but even then, He is faithful.

How do we balance the law of God with the grace of God?

Grace isn’t God’s “Plan B.” Grace is the foundation of God’s interaction with His creation.

On Easter, we celebrate God’s great reversal, yet many of us still carry wildernesses where things feel anything but right. Mary Magdalene was in such a wilderness in John 20 as she wept outside of the tomb. In the wilderness, we often cannot see when Jesus is right in front of us.

God had been leading Israel every step of the way—parting the Red Sea, dropping food from the sky, guiding them with a pillar of fire at night—and still, when twelve spies came back from the promised land, ten of them said it couldn’t be done, and the crowd went with them. Numbers 13 and 14 ask a question we face too: when the majority says no, does that settle it?

We forget so quickly—and when we forget what God has done, we start to feel alone. That’s exactly why, in Numbers 9, God tells Israel it’s time to keep the Passover: not because the exodus needs to happen again, but because his people need to taste his faithfulness again.

When you’re in a wilderness season—the kind that doesn’t feel like a season at all—the doubt that creeps in isn’t usually about theology; it’s simpler and sharper than that: Is God really with me? That’s precisely the question hanging over Exodus 3, where God meets Moses in the wilderness and answers it not with reassurance alone, but with His name.

Do we understand the fullness of what God is going to do? Definitely not.

Are we going through ritual expecting nothing can be done or are we ready for God’s Word to redirect us?