(Exodus 3:2) I AM a prickly bush. I’m not even a garden variety grade. No. I am one among the multitude of parched skeletal desert tumbleweeds that only wishes I were a tree with branches. I am not a mighty oak, strong and sturdy, or a majestic pine tree tall and stately. I am subject to lightning bolts igniting me, and I count my days until my number is up. I am puny and unprotected, except for these thorns which are aborted branches; they’ve done me no good. I AM a thorny bush.
I am on fire, but am not consumed. Moses turns aside to investigate why I am not being burnt. Suddenly, I’m not like the run-of-the-mill bushes Moses suspects nomads used last night for a campfire or the remains of a lightning storm. Moses usually walks right by me, but today my brightness draws him near. I am not on fire. The fire is within me. When God sees Moses looking intently, God calls to him through me and says, “Moses, Moses. Here am I.”
I am a bush. I am not the I AM, but he is within me.
You are a bush. Is God speaking through you?