I Am Sending You to Pharaoh
Exodus 3:10
Isaiah 6:8
John 20:21
The voice from the burning bush did not stop at comfort — it moved toward commission. “So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh.” This was not a polite invitation; it was a divine summons. God’s compassion always leads to calling. He doesn’t merely soothe our fears — He sends us into the very places that terrify us most.
The story of Moses marks one of the most significant turning points in salvation history. A man who once fled Egypt in fear is now commanded to return and confront its most powerful ruler. This is divine irony at its sharpest — the fugitive becomes the liberator. Historically, Pharaoh was considered a god on earth, an embodiment of absolute power. For Moses, standing before him wasn’t just political defiance — it was a theological showdown: Who truly reigns, Pharaoh or Yahweh?
Every time God sends someone, He reveals part of His own heart. The prophets stood in this same tradition — Isaiah, Jeremiah, Amos — all reluctant, all flawed, yet all chosen. And the pattern culminates in Christ Himself: “As the Father has sent Me, I am sending you.” The sending of Moses was a prototype of the Great Commission. What began with a shepherd facing Pharaoh ends with disciples facing the world.
Oswald Chambers once observed, “God doesn’t call the equipped; He equips the called.” That’s the story of Moses in a sentence. And Elisabeth Elliot beautifully expanded the same truth: “God will not protect you from anything that makes you more like Jesus.” Their insights bridge centuries, reminding us that divine assignments are rarely comfortable but always transformative.
The message is clear — calling is never about competence; it’s about obedience. God doesn’t wait until we feel brave enough to send us; often, the call itself creates the courage. Every step Moses took toward Pharaoh was a declaration of faith that God’s presence was greater than Egypt’s power.
Yet today, many hearts hesitate at the edge of their own Egypts. Fear of rejection, failure, or ridicule keeps modern believers from stepping into their mission fields. We prefer the safety of the wilderness to the risk of confrontation. But if Moses had stayed with the sheep, Israel would have stayed in chains.
The world still waits for those who will hear God’s “Go.” Pharaohs still exist — not in palaces, but in systems, addictions, injustices, and fears that enslave. The question remains: will we answer the call, or will we keep circling the desert of hesitation? Every generation needs its Moses — and perhaps, this time, that’s us.
Leave a comment