When it doesn’t make sense

I can’t help but wonder about Moses.

Did he feel shortchanged?

Did he feel unloved?

Did he feel forgotten?

I bet the first year wasn’t too bad. He’d killed a guy and gotten away with it. Kind of.

I bet the first year was scary, exciting. Moses always looking over his shoulder, wondering if Pharaoh would finally catch up with him. The first year must have been freaky. What does a prince do in the wilderness? So many things to learn. So much to do, to see, to explore.

Then came the second year. Was it still ok? Days of daydreaming about friends back home. What could have been. What should have been. Did anyone miss him? Were they still talking about him? Would they forgive him? Ever?

By the fifth year, I’m not so sure. The desert is a lonely place. Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. Same old. Same old. Is God really here? Does He really know? News from back home, others marrying, families living their dreams. Meanwhile, poor Moses still in the desert – surviving, waiting, wondering.

Ten years later. Nothing’s changed. Another day. Another sheep. What’s the point of praying? It’s been 10 years. No answers in sight. What a disappointment life has been. Is this all there is? What about the hopes, the dreams, the expectations of years gone by?

Twenty years. Tick tock. Tick tock. Hello. Anyone there?

Thirty years. Silence.

Dark nights. Oppressive heat.

Day in. Day out.

Is it over yet?

And then one day.

Forty years later.

A burning bush.

A voice.

I’m here.

40 years in the wilderness.

Was it worth it, Moses?

Was it worth the wait?

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