- The Ornament: The Sandals / The Burning Bush
- The Scripture: Exodus 3:1–15
The Surface Reading
Moses is a fugitive. He has fled Egypt after killing a man and is now hiding in the desert, working as a shepherd. One day, he sees a magic trick: a bush that is on fire but doesn’t burn up. God speaks from the fire, tells him to take off his shoes, and gives him a mission to save Israel.
A Closer Look
Guide: Rob Bell / Lawrence Kushner
Rob Bell has frequently cited a Jewish teaching about this moment that changes everything. The text says Moses noticed the bush was “not consumed.”
But think about that: How long do you have to stare at a burning bush to realize it isn’t burning up? A few minutes? Ten minutes?
Bushes catch fire in the hot desert all the time. Most people would walk right past it.
The miracle wasn’t the fire; the miracle was Moses’ attention.
It suggests that perhaps the bush was always burning. Perhaps the whole world is “Holy Ground,” burning with the presence of God, but we are usually moving too fast to see it. Moses didn’t step into a holy zone; he finally stopped long enough to realize he was already standing in one.
When Moses asks for God’s name, God gives a strange answer: YHWH (Yahweh).
Scholars note that these four Hebrew letters—Yod, He, Vav, He—sound like the noise of breathing.
Yod-He (Inhale). Vav-He (Exhale).
God doesn’t give Moses a theological title. He gives him the sound of life itself.
God is effectively saying: “I am the breath in your lungs. I am the thing that keeps you alive. You speak my name every time you take a breath.”
New Creation
Guide: Pete Enns
This breath isn’t just for Moses; it is for the world.
Pete Enns points out that the Exodus isn’t just a political rescue mission; it is a New Creation story.
Just as God breathed life into the dust in Genesis 2, God is now breathing life into a crushed, enslaved people. He is stepping back into history to “re-create” the world, turning the chaos of Pharaoh into the Shalom of Freedom.
The Question
God told Moses, “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.”
He didn’t say, “The place over there is holy.” He said the place where you are standing—right now, amidst the sheep and the dirt—is holy.
What would it look like to treat your current location as Holy Ground?
Your kitchen, your cubicle, your commute. What if you stopped rushing, took off your “shoes” (your agenda/defenses), and paid attention to the bush that is burning right in front of you?

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