Silence washed over his soul like a healing balm. The wilderness was like that. Quiet. A place for private thoughts and thoughtful prayers. Space to rethink the past and consider the future. Time to be grateful for what he had been given since finding himself exiled in Midian. He never imagined he would end up there. He had never dreamed of herding sheep for a living. Growing up as the adopted son of an Egyptian princess had in no way prepared him for living outdoors and doing manual labor. No. Moses ended up tending sheep in Midian only after being forced to flee from Egypt.
Palace upbringing had not been everything those living as peasants think it is. At least not for Moses. He knew he wasn’t Egyptian royalty. Everyone knew. His story was common knowledge. Retrieved from the bulrushes by Pharaoh’s daughter, he had no choice in his upbringing. At a time when baby boys were being executed by Pharaoh, the princess had saved Moses’ life, and he was grateful. Still, she hadn’t done him any favors by raising him in the palace. Not when he so badly wanted to identify with his own people. Not when he wanted it enough to kill an Egyptian on their behalf.
That’s how he ended up in Midian. His blood was already simmering at the sight of his people engaged in forced labor. It went to a full rolling boil when he saw that Egyptian brutally striking one of them. Seeking to set things right and do something for his people, Moses attacked the Egyptian. Killed him. Buried him in the sand. Thought no one noticed. What was one less Egyptian, anyway? But people did notice. His people. A fact that smacked him between the eyes when he attempted to settle a dispute between two Hebrews. They weren’t interested in him, his opinions, or his peace-making methods. They saw what had happened. They knew. And it was only a matter of time before Pharaoh knew too. Adopted grandson or not, Moses would be a wanted man. So he did the only thing he could think to do. He ran.
He supposed everything had turned out fine in the end. Midian wasn’t such a bad place to live. He had a wife and son, a good father-in-law, and this great gig minding sheep in the wilderness. Alone. Plenty of time to contemplate his past and present while enjoying the peace and quiet. He may not have thought his life would lead him to this place, but he was happy it had. He wasn’t looking for a career change. He wasn’t interested in working with people instead of sheep. The wilderness was enough excitement for him. And it was about to get a lot more exciting.
Leading the flock over to the far side of the wilderness, Moses found himself approaching Horeb, the mountain of God. Although he had no intention of making the flock attempt to climb the mountain, there would likely be decent pastures and some water at its base, so he plodded on. Lost in thought, it took him a moment to fully realize the sight before him. A bush was on fire. That was odd. It was only one bush. And it was burning continually. One would expect it to burn out or the fire to spread to surrounding brush and grass. It didn’t. That single bush just kept burning. Curious, Moses headed toward the phenomenon to get a closer look. It would make a good story to tell when next he was home.
As he approached the bush, a voice called his name over the crackling of the fire. “Moses.” He knew that voice. Without ever having heard it before, Moses knew exactly who was speaking. God. The God of his ancestors. The God of his people. The God who had entered covenant with them and who had promised never to fail. The God whose power and holiness preceded Him. Gripped with fear and afraid to lift his gaze, Moses buried his face in his hands and simply listened.
The first few words were music to Moses’ ears. God had been watching and listening and hearing. He saw how miserable the Israelites in Egypt were. He heard their cries and groans. He knew they were suffering. He wasn’t interested in leaving them there forever. He had come down with a plan to rescue them and bring them into their own space, their own place. A place of good and plenty where they could be God’s people and He could be their God. It was all good news. Until it wasn’t. Unfortunately for Moses, God’s plan involved taking him out of his comfort zone and back to the place he’d started.
Moses couldn’t come up with excuses fast enough. Was God sure he was the right guy for the job? He wasn’t super good with words. He had no idea how to convince the Israelites that God had truly sent him. There was no guarantee they would obey him. And his speech. It was a mess. Had God listened to him talk lately? He was always searching for words, waiting for his tongue to figure out how to push them past his lips. Especially when he had an audience. Public speaking wasn’t his strong suit. He was certain to mess it up. But God wasn’t having any of it. Moses was the man. God had chosen him. Tapped him for the position. Come down to speak with him. Personally. Right there. At Mount Horeb. The mountain of God. The place where God meets with and speaks to mankind. (Exodus 2-4)
Moses wasn’t the only one to meet God on Mount Horeb. Centuries later, another man called by God also found himself there. Holed up in a cave after a forty-day journey to safety, Elijah hunkered down to spend the night. He was exhausted. Drained. Physically. Mentally. Spiritually. On the run from a furious and raging Queen Jezebel, he had already begged God to take him. Let him die a peaceful death rather than the torturous one Jezebel had planned. It hadn’t happened. Although he slept, he hadn’t wakened in Heaven. He was still on earth. Still in need of protection. Still clueless to what his next move should be. So here he was, hiding in a cave, trying to get some sleep, to clear his mind so he could figure out a plan for his future.
Into the cave on Horeb stepped God. He came to the mountain of God to speak with the man of God. The one who felt alone, abandoned, rejected, hopeless, helpless. God wanted to speak with him. Not in a roaring wind. Not in a violent earthquake. Not in a raging fire. No. God wanted to speak with Elijah. Calmly. Peacefully. Soothingly. In a way his soul, buried in the darkest despair, could find comfort and strength and direction. And he did. In the form of a still, small voice, a whisper, even, God spoke. As dark as things looked around him, God wasn’t done with Elijah. He still had a plan for him. He had work for Elijah to do. Stepping into the swirling emotions and anxieties and frustrations filling that cave, God began to make sense of the chaos. He put order to the racing thoughts in Elijah’s tired brain. He laid out a logical plan of action and gave Elijah the strength to enact it. Right there. Right then. At Mount Horeb. The mountain of God. The place God meets with and speaks to His people. The place God’s people go to speak with Him. (I Kings 19)
There is an enormous amount of comfort in the concept of Mount Horeb. The mountain of God. The place God is. Always. The space in which God visits mankind with the express intention of communicating with us. No matter where we are in our lives. Content in our situation. Fleeing from our circumstances. Overwhelmed by anxiety, fear, and despair. Keenly aware of our inadequacies and inabilities. Suffocating in aloneness. Downtrodden. Discouraged. Ready to die. No matter our circumstances, when we find ourselves at Mount Horeb, God is already there. The bush is already burning. The cave is already made up. The quiet, peaceful whisper is waiting for the exact right moment to speak. God is ready to meet with us, meet our needs when we meet Him at our Mount Horeb. (Philippians 4:19; Matthew 11:28-29)
I don’t know where that is for you. I don’t know where you go to find alone time with God. At different points in our lives, different levels of busyness, different numbers of tiny humans needing our attention, that place may change. Mine has. Sometimes it still does. The car. The shower. My desk. Maybe yours is the closet, the office, your home gym. It doesn’t matter. It can be anywhere. Why? Because your Mount Horeb isn’t so much a specific place you go as it is a place within you. There is nothing magical about a room, a chair, a porch that makes God listen and speak better than anywhere else. No. Mount Horeb is the quiet place in your soul that can hear God speak no matter where you are. When everything you have worked so hard to attain goes up in flames–literally or figuratively. When your exquisitely built plans catastrophically fail. When your friends and family have turned their backs on you, and the aloneness is suffocating. When fear and anxiety, despair and depression hold you in a grip you just can’t shake. When everything is going pear-shaped and you stand helpless in the chaos, yet your soul resounds with the quiet, peaceful voice of God. Then, friend, you have found Horeb. Your Horeb. The place God transcends the horror and terror and confusion around you to bring you His peace, His calm, His direction. That’s your mountain of God. That’s your Horeb. (Zephaniah 3:17)
It took decades of my life to figure out where my Horeb was. I looked everywhere. Tried everything all the preachers promoted. It didn’t work. What I thought might be the voice of God turned out to be the voices of a hundred different people trying to tell me what they thought God wanted me to hear. Sometimes the opinions conflicted. Sometimes I thought I’d never hear Him. Often I was afraid to believe it was Him. But the more time I spent reading His Word and talking to Him–in a closet, on my knees, or vacuuming the house–I began to know His heart and learn His voice. It took building a lifestyle in the presence of God to find the mountain of God. My Horeb. You see, when you purposely live in His presence, God can speak to you anywhere, at any time, about anything. When you spend every quiet moment of every day in conversation with God, you will know His voice better than you know your own. You will find your Horeb, the place God meets with and speaks to His beloved people today, is not a place you frequent but a place in which you reside. (Psalm 37:7; 119:105; Isaiah 55:2-3; John 8:47; I Chronicles 16:11)
So. Have you found it? Have you found your Horeb? Have you spent the time to make space in your life for God Almighty to dwell? Do you live in His presence? Constantly? Do you traverse each day in conversation with God? Do you know His voice? Only His voice? Can you hear Him over the cacophony of opinions around you? You need to. You need to find your Horeb. Create it, if necessary. Build a space in which you constantly live in the presence of God and hear His voice no matter what is going on around you, no matter how you are feeling, no matter how dark the outlook seems. You need a place where you meet with God, a place where God meets with you. Not a place on the map, not a pin drop, not a church bench or a rock by a stream. No. You need a mountain of God in the heart of your soul. A place you meet with Him alone no matter where you are. When you find that place, when you make that space, you will find your Horeb. In you. (Psalm 61:3; 85:8; II Corinthians 6:16; Isaiah 30:21; John 10:27; I Peter 3:12)