Every Excuse in the Book

God has just spoken to Moses from a burning bush in the middle of Midian. He's told him to go back to Egypt, confront [Pharaoh](#person:Pharaoh), and lead an entire enslaved nation to freedom. It's the kind of assignment that would make anyone hesitate. But Moses doesn't just hesitate — he argues. Five separate times.

What follows is one of the most honest conversations in the Bible. A man standing in front of God, telling him he picked the wrong person. And God, patiently at first and then not so patiently, dismantling every reason Moses has for saying no.

Exodus 4:1-9 (ESV) Moses opened with the most relatable objection: "They won't believe me." And honestly? Fair concern. He was a fugitive shepherd with no credentials and no backing. Why would anyone listen?

But God didn't give him a speech about confidence. He asked a question:

"What's that in your hand?"

Moses answered:

"A staff."

God told him:

"Throw it on the ground."

So Moses threw it down — and it became a serpent. Moses ran. Literally turned and bolted from his own walking stick. But God told him:

"Reach out and grab it by the tail."

(Quick context: grabbing a snake by the tail is the one thing you never do — the head is free to strike. This took real trust.) Moses grabbed it, and it became a staff again in his hand. God explained:

"This is so they will believe that the Lord — the God of their fathers, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of [Israel](#person:Jacob) — has appeared to you."

Then God gave him a second sign. He told Moses:

"Put your hand inside your cloak."

Moses did — and when he pulled it out, his hand was covered in leprosy, white as snow. God told him to put it back in. He did, and it came out completely restored.

Then God added:

"If they don't believe the first sign, they may believe the second. And if they still won't believe either sign, take water from the Nile and pour it on the ground — it will turn to blood."

Three signs. Each one escalating. Here's what strikes me: God didn't say "just trust yourself." He gave Moses tangible evidence. Not because Faith doesn't matter, but because God has never asked anyone to believe in nothing. He always shows up with something to work with. The question is whether you'll pick up what he puts in front of you — even when it looks like an ordinary stick in your hand.

Exodus 4:10-12 (ESV) Moses switched tactics. Fine — signs handled. But now it was personal:

"Lord, I'm not a good speaker. I never have been — not before, and definitely not since you started talking to me. I'm slow with words. I stumble over my own tongue."

Maybe Moses had a stutter. Maybe he was just deeply insecure about public speaking. Either way, he was looking at the job description — "go speak to the most powerful ruler on earth" — and looking at himself, and the math didn't add up.

God's response was direct:

"Who made the human mouth? Who makes someone mute, or deaf, or able to see, or blind? Isn't it me — the Lord? Now go. I will be with your mouth and teach you exactly what to say."

Read that again. God didn't say "you're actually a great speaker, Moses — you just don't know it yet." He said: I made mouths. I made yours. And I'll be in it when you speak. The ability was never supposed to come from Moses. That's the part he kept missing. And honestly? It's the part most of us keep missing too. We look at what God is asking and immediately start inventorying what we bring to the table, when the whole point is that he's the one supplying what's needed.

Exodus 4:13-17 (ESV) And then Moses just said it. No more dressed-up objections. No more strategic concerns. Just the raw truth:

"Lord, please. Send someone else."

That was excuse number five. And this time, God got angry.

Not cold, distant anger. The anger of someone who has been patient, who has answered every question, addressed every concern, and is watching the person they chose still back away from the door.

But even in his anger, God made a concession. He told Moses:

"What about your brother Aaron? He's a Levite — and I know he can speak well. He's actually on his way to meet you right now, and when he sees you, he's going to be genuinely glad.

Here's how it'll work: you speak to him and put the words in his mouth. I will be with both of your mouths and teach you both what to do. He'll speak for you to the people. He'll be your voice, and you'll be like God to him.

And take this staff with you — you'll use it to perform the signs."

Notice what happened. Moses asked God to send someone else, and God said: fine, I'll send someone with you. But he didn't let Moses off the hook. He adjusted the plan without changing the mission. Aaron would be the mouthpiece, but Moses would still be the one carrying the message. Sometimes God meets your weakness — not by removing the assignment, but by giving you someone to walk into it alongside you.

Exodus 4:18-23 (ESV) With all his excuses exhausted, Moses finally moved. He went back to his father-in-law Jethro and said:

"Let me go back to my people in Egypt to see if they're still alive."

Jethro told him:

"Go in peace."

(Notice Moses didn't tell Jethro the full story — just "I want to check on my family." Maybe he wasn't ready to explain "God spoke to me from a bush that was on fire.")

Then God gave Moses one more piece of critical information while he was still in Midian:

"Go back to Egypt. Everyone who was trying to kill you is dead."

So Moses loaded up his wife and sons on a donkey and headed back toward the land he'd fled from forty years earlier. And he took the staff of God in his hand.

But God wasn't done briefing him. The mission had layers Moses hadn't heard yet:

"When you get back to Egypt, perform all the Miracles I've given you before Pharaoh. But I will harden his heart, and he will not let the people go.

Then tell Pharaoh: 'This is what the Lord says — Israel is my firstborn son. I'm telling you: let my son go so he can serve me. If you refuse, I will kill your firstborn son.'"

That escalation is staggering. God was framing the entire conflict in the most personal terms possible — father to father, son against son. Pharaoh saw Israel as property. God called them family. And the warning was clear: what you do to my son, I will do to yours. This wasn't a negotiation. This was a father coming for his children.

Exodus 4:24-26 (ESV) This is one of the strangest and most unsettling passages in the entire Bible. And honestly, it should feel that way.

On the road to Egypt, at a place where they stopped for the night, the Lord met Moses and sought to put him to death.

The same God who just called Moses, equipped Moses, and sent Moses — now moved against him. The text doesn't fully explain why, but what happened next provides the clue. Moses' wife Zipporah grabbed a flint knife, circumcised their son, touched Moses' feet with the foreskin, and said:

"You are a bridegroom of blood to me!"

And God let him go.

The most likely reading: Moses had neglected to circumcise his son — the physical sign of God's Covenant with Abraham. He was about to lead a nation back into covenant relationship with God, but his own household wasn't in order. God took that seriously. Deadly seriously. Zipporah's quick action saved his life, but her words — "a bridegroom of blood" — carried the weight of what that moment cost.

This passage is uncomfortable because it's supposed to be. God's Covenant isn't decorative. It's not something you agree to in principle and ignore in practice. Moses was learning — the hard way — that obedience to God isn't optional, even for the person God personally chose.

Exodus 4:27-31 (ESV) Meanwhile, God had been working on the other end. He told Aaron:

"Go out into the wilderness to meet Moses."

So Aaron went — all the way to the mountain of God — and when he saw his brother, he kissed him. Think about that moment. These two hadn't seen each other in decades. Moses had fled Egypt as a fugitive. Now he was coming back with a message from God himself.

Moses told Aaron everything — every word God had spoken, every sign he'd been given. Then the two of them went together to the elders of Israel. Aaron spoke all the words God had given Moses, and he performed the signs in front of the people.

And here's how the chapter ends:

The people believed. When they heard that the Lord had seen them — that he had noticed their suffering, that he hadn't forgotten — they bowed their heads and worshiped.

No one gave a speech about theology. No one debated credentials. They heard that God saw their pain, and they fell to their knees. That's what happens when people who've been suffering in silence finally hear that someone is coming for them. Not "hang in there." Not "it'll get better." But: God sees you. He hasn't looked away. And he's already moving.