Who am I?

And Moses said unto God, Who am I, that I should go unto Pharaoh, and that I should bring forth the children of Israel out of Egypt? (Exodus 3:11) 

Can you imagine God telling you that you will lead his people—a crowd of millions, all of his chosen children—out of a land where they’ve lived for 400 years and been oppressed by evil kings most of that time? Talk about overwhelming.

That’s what happened to Moses. 

There he was, minding his own business in Midian, living peacefully with his wife and his sons, when God showed up in a burning bush and stopped Moses in his tracks. 

“Tell you what, Moses,” God said. “You go tell Pharaoh, the ruler of the known world, that I want my people to travel three days out into the wilderness and worship me. Imma get them out of there.”

I can see Moses looking over both shoulders and thinking in his best Sylvester Stallone voice, “You talkin to me?” As my husband says, sheer linear panic.

And I totally relate to his answer. 

“Lord, who am I?” I’ve thought that very same thing even though my holy assignments have been substantially smaller than this one. When Moses asked this question of God, he was focused on his own abilities and qualifications, which were sorely lacking. His eyes were on himself. This is a guess, but I think Moses was probably an introvert. We know he was “not eloquent” and “slow of speech, and of a slow tongue.” Hardly the guy I would choose to lead this event. Yet here he was, facing God and grasping for excuses. All he wanted was to get out of it.

“Lord, who am I?”

Maybe Moses thought God would pump him up and tell him how great he was and remind him of all his good qualities and how God had made him, Moses, the perfect person for the job—a little affirmation on a hard day. We all need that, right?

But God completely ignored the question and reminded Moses of who HE is—his power, his ability to put words in Moses’ mouth and strike fear in Pharaoh’s heart. Moses was left feeling no better about himself, but he was reminded about what matters.

I can imagine myself in Moses’ sandals: knowing myself and my limitations and yet knowing God and his abilities. Afraid of what God was asking of him and yet pretty sure God could do what he said he could do. I see Moses weighing the two sides, feeling the mental anguish of wanting to hide in safety while being pushed toward the terrifying unknown.

Has God given you a hard thing to do? Life is full of those, isn’t it? Even the people whose Instagram-perfect lives look easy have hard things. No one is exempt. The rain falls on the just and the unjust.

You can ask God why he gave you this hard thing to do, but we rarely get to know that. God doesn’t usually tell us why difficult circumstances come into our lives or he wants us to do something way outside our comfort zone.

But here’s what I do know: it’s never about who WE are. We know how weak and frail and needy we are. We know our absent ability, our flimsy faith, our sorry self-doubt.

It’s always about who God is. He is strong in our weakness, all-knowing in our ignorance. Ephesians 3:20 tells us he is

… able to do exceeding abundantly above all that we can ask or think … 

We don’t have to worry about just squeaking by or barely getting it done. God does “exceeding abundantly” more than that. He makes it happen with plenty of room to spare—in a landslide. But look at what the rest of that verse says:

… according to the power that worketh in us.

You are not doing a hard thing on your own. God—with his infinite power—is doing it. His exceeding abundance works in you. He doesn’t give you a command and then leave you helpless to figure out how to make it happen. He provides everything you need to accomplish the task with flying colors. He always sets us up for success.

His power works in us.

He is doing your hard thing with you, in you, for you, and through you. 

So instead of asking, “Lord, who am I?” ask, “Lord, who are you?” and then believe he is who he says he is.