Moses my Friend

Moses, born in misery and isolated from birth, raised amongst the unclean, forced to receive the charity of the Egyptian, never being rooted, an alien everywhere, too Egyptian for the Hebrews and too Hebrew for the Egyptians, enough love to sustain, never enough to be at home, disconnected and separate, though connected to all.

So he makes a mess, runs and hides, time goes by, self esteem dries up in the desert, confidence evaporates in the silence. A broken man who is ready for death, a man of long shattered dreams, tired and old, himself a valley of dried bones.

So burns a bush, holy fire, sacred ground, the long years of sadness now by God confronted and by God dismissed.

Called now with faith divine to return to Egypt, to shun the agony of unbelief, the bark of 80 years of miserable experience, the pain of desolation, failed hopes and silent humiliations. These things meaningless now, like dust and smoke, 80 years forgotten for the sake of love most perfect.

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