"Why Did You Ever Send Me?"

Examining God's response to Moses' doubt

Moses is arguably the most important figure in the formation of Israel’s identity as the people of God. He served as the lawgiver to the people of Israel, the prophet who led the exodus out of Egypt, and the mediator of the Sinai covenant. But did Moses himself perceive this role in the same way?

A closer reading of Moses’ character, particularly his attitude towards God’s call to lead the Israelites out of Egypt, highlights this question. At the burning bush, Moses responds to God with a plea: “Oh my Lord, I am not eloquent, either in the past or since you have spoken to your servant, but I am slow of speech and of tongue. […] Please send someone else.” Even after God promises deliverance to Israel and assures Moses of His providence when speaking to Pharaoh, God is met with hesitation: “Behold, the people of Israel have not listened to me. How then shall Pharaoh listen to me, for I am of uncircumcised lips?” Nowhere, however, does Moses express his reluctance more bluntly than after his first appeal to Pharaoh: “Why did you ever send me?”

This blunt question, "Why did you ever send me?", points me to a deeper struggle within Moses' identity. Adopted into one of humankind's most influential civilizations as a son to Pharaoh’s daughter, Moses, a Levite born Egyptian, seems caught between two worlds—that of the enslaved and that of the slave driver. This internal struggle, this feeling of being an outsider to the very people he is called to lead, is evident right at the start of Exodus. After Moses, in solidarity, kills an Egyptian taskmaster, he is met with the rebuke of the very Israelites he sought to help: “Who made you ruler and judge over us?” As Moses flees to Midian alone, encountering a God who promises to use him, I can't help but wonder if the Israelites' words echoed in his ears, planting a seed of doubt. "Why did you ever send me?" begins to sound a lot like, "Are you sure you know who I am? Am I really who you want?" When our sense of self is shaped by a world that rejects us and by experiences that seem to confirm our unworthiness, it becomes hard to believe that God could see anything different. I wonder if, in that moment, Moses wasn’t just doubting himself—but was overwhelmed by the gap between what God wanted to do and how painfully inadequate he felt to be part of it.

Within the first five chapters of Exodus, we are given an origin story rich in two distinct, yet intertwined, elements. First, there is the raw portrayal of Moses, burdened by insecurity and troubled by unbelief. Second, and crucially, there is the profound revelation of God Himself. Building on the mythic stories of Genesis—humanity's expulsion from Eden and God's promise to redeem creation through covenants with the Patriarchs of Israel—the Exodus emerges as more than just a saga of liberation or the emergence of a new nation. It's the first place where we encounter a God who actively seeks relationship with His people, showing them compassion, collaborating with them, equipping them, and desiring their complete allegiance.

This is a God whose reliability and response to us, just as to Moses, is unchanging. Whenever the Exodus narrative could center on Moses’ heroism or leadership, it instead emphasizes his profound self-doubt, and the voice of God that consistently booms in response. When Moses questions, "Why did you ever send me?", God's reply isn't a validation of Moses. Rather, in pivotal moments of doubt and suffering—from the burning bush and Moses' wavering faith, to Job's anguish and Israel's lament—God's response is consistently to declare His name, recall His promises, and assert His omnipotence. This is the core truth of His grace – that His active presence isn't contingent on our flawlessness. That it is exactly within our imperfection that God seeks intimacy and union with us. Just because God calls Moses to lead the Exodus doesn’t quell Moses’ insecurities; it’s precisely Moses’ insecurities that reveal God’s power over all things, and the relationship He desires with His people.

Grappling with God's call for us from the burning bush and confronting our own perceived shortcomings—our lack of qualifications, deep-seated doubts, inherent flaws, or an identity we feel impedes our role in His plan—we are inevitably brought back to a singular, profound truth: God's plan is fundamentally God-centered, not human-centered. Redemption is not merely for our sake, but ultimately for His glorification.

God is calling us all to the Burning Bush: to hear Him call our name, qualify us for His purposes, and invite us to participate in the redemption of creation and the liberation of God’s people. In believing we are anything less than what God is calling us to we are undermining the personal, real promises that God speaks to us over and over again through His word. It is a love of God for humanity penetrating deeper than sin that moves God to take on the form of flesh, and, within His humanity, display for us the most radical act of love— the new and greater Exodus; Christ, the Passover Lamb, leading His people not merely to a promised land, but to redemption from spiritual captivity and into communion with God.

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on another note…

When I first made this Substack public, my goal was to include those who wanted to stay updated but hadn’t formally partnered with my ministry through TeachBeyond. Over time, I’ve realized that it has come at expense of more detail on what exactly is happening in my ministry on a quarterly basis.

Some of the things I’ve chosen not to include—like the administrative side of my work at GDQ—tend to be repetitive and not particularly engaging in a newsletter format. Other stories, involving individuals or specific ministry opportunities, are harder to share publicly due to privacy concerns. Sharing online inevitably opens the door to scrutiny and misunderstanding, and I’ve been wrestling with how to use digital communication in a way that’s both respectful and thoughtful.

With that in mind, I’m making a small change to how I use this platform. I’ll be using the ‘paid subscriber’ feature to share more in-depth content—updates that are better suited for those who are reading specifically to know about my ministry.

To be clear: you do not need to pay to access this content. This is simply a way to create a more private space for certain updates and to be more intentional with what I share. If you’ve given financially through TeachBeyond in the past or have let me know you’re partnering in prayer, I’ve already flagged your email as a ‘paid subscriber,’ so you’ll have access automatically.

If you are would like to have future access to ‘paid’ posts, please email me and I will add you to the group.