Maybe it was cold on Mount Horeb.

Maybe Moses didn’t turn aside to see the burning bush.

Maybe he turned aside to warm his hands.

Perhaps he stammered and made excuses

when God unveiled his adventure

because he was cozy and comfortable next to the flame.

His flock?  At least they had thick wool coats to keep them cared for.

The Hebrews?  At least their slavery had them sweating and sheltered.

But Moses?  He was at the Mountain Top, exposed, vulnerable.

Maybe it was cold on Mount Horeb.

Maybe it was a trick God played on a chilly servant.

And once Moses was warm, it was time to go.

These winter nights, as I sit by my hearth

May I be so lulled into obedience

By a flame that will not end.

Have a good week,

Mitch