I’ve been rather anxious lately, that all around uncomfortable feeling that has no beginning or end, no rhyme or reason, no explanation for its reappearance in my life. I tried analyzing it, understanding it, de-stressing, sleeping, reading…. It wasn’t until this morning that I touched the sunrise:

In the book of Exodus, when the Lord appeared to Moses, he did so from the midst of a burning bush. The bush wasn’t special, different, accomplished, amazing. God chose that bush for his own purposes. The bush was there, doing what bushes do. Insignificant and yet the bearer of divine Majesty. The channel of God’s self-revelation that would lead to the Exodus, prefigure the Passover that would be celebrated by Jesus on the night before he died, and ultimately transfigure all of human history.

Can I just be that bush? Open, willing, nothing more than what I’m given to be?

What peace.

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