The Need for a source - Exodus 3

The coldest, most refreshing glass of water I’ve ever had didn’t come from a fancy tumbler or a chilled stainless-steel bottle.

It came from a glass Miracle Whip jar.

Growing up, my dad would wash out those jars, peel off the label, fill them with ice water in the morning, and put them in the fridge. In the evenings, he’d grab one, make a big bowl of popcorn, sit in his recliner, and take a long sip.

“Ahhh… that’s some good water.”

He said it with such joy, such conviction, that before long all of us were drinking out of Miracle Whip jars too. Not because we had to—we had regular glasses—but because we wanted whatever he was experiencing.

Then one night a friend came over, looked at us around the dinner table, and asked, “Why in the world are you drinking out of Miracle Whip jars?”

I remember the embarrassment. My dad would have said it was just how he was raised—backwoods Mississippi, making do with what you have. You can take a person out of the country, but it’s much harder to take the country out of a person.

And that’s exactly what God is doing in the book of Exodus.

He’s not just taking Israel out of Egypt.

He’s taking Egypt out of Israel.

From Empire to Shepherd

By the time we reach Exodus 3, God has heard the cries of His people. Deliverance is coming. But before God sends Moses back to confront Pharaoh, He reshapes Moses himself.

How?

By making him a shepherd.

The man raised in Pharaoh’s palace now carries a shepherd’s staff. The empire’s stick of power is replaced with the shepherd’s staff of care. God is reframing Moses’ heart—from the kingdom of fear and violence to the kingdom of shalom.

Throughout Scripture, shepherding is God’s classroom for leadership. Abraham was a shepherd. David was a shepherd. Jesus calls Himself the Good Shepherd. And in the wilderness, Moses learns what it means to lead not through domination—but through trust.

“The Lord Is My Shepherd”

To understand what God is teaching Moses, we turn to Psalm 23.

“The Lord is my shepherd; I have what I need.”

Notice what it doesn’t say.

It doesn’t say, “I have everything I want.”
It doesn’t promise abundance or luxury.

It promises enough.

In the Middle Eastern wilderness, “green pastures” weren’t endless emerald fields. They were small pockets of scrappy grass—just enough for the sheep to eat in that moment. “Still waters” weren’t flowing rivers; often they were muddy pools collected in crevices.

Just enough.

That’s the rhythm of the kingdom of shalom. Daily bread. Not tomorrow’s bread. Today’s bread.

In Egypt, Moses would have known excess. In the wilderness, he learns dependence. God teaches him: When you have Me, you have everything you need.

The world says you need more.
Shalom says you have enough.

Learning the Shepherd’s Voice

Psalm 23 continues:

“He leads me along the right paths… Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.”

Pharaoh’s rod symbolized power and punishment.
God’s rod and staff bring comfort.

Shepherds in the ancient world would often share grazing space with other flocks. Thousands of sheep intermingled. But when a shepherd called out, his sheep would separate from the others and follow his voice.

“My sheep hear my voice.”

In the wilderness, Moses is learning to listen. To move only when God speaks. To lead not from fear, but from peace.

That is shalom leadership.
That is kingdom formation.

The Burning Bush and Holy Ground

Then comes the moment that changes everything.

Moses sees a bush on fire—but not consumed. Fire always draws attention. But this fire speaks.

“Moses, Moses.”

And Moses responds with one word that echoes throughout Scripture:

“Here I am.”

God tells him, “Take off your sandals. The place where you are standing is holy ground.”

Holy ground isn’t about geography. It’s about presence.

Where God is—there is holiness.

In that moment, Moses realizes something essential: before he is a deliverer, before he is a leader, before he is anything—he is standing in the presence of God.

And so are we.

The kitchen floor.
The living room.
The wilderness seasons of our lives.

Holy ground.

“I Am Who I Am”

When God sends Moses back to Egypt, Moses asks a profound question:

“If they ask me your name, what should I say?”

God replies:

“I am who I am.”

Not “I am strong.”
Not “I am loving.”
Not “I am helpful.”

Simply: I am.

God is not a resource. He is the source.

As Exodus 3 reveals, the mission to free Israel is not ultimately about Moses’ strength or strategy. It’s about God’s presence. The most important thing about the mission is not who Moses is—it’s who God is.

Later, in the New Testament, Jesus echoes this divine name, identifying Himself with the same eternal “I Am.” The clash of kingdoms continues—but so does the invitation into shalom.

Removing Egypt From Us

It took 40 years to shape Moses in the wilderness.

Forty years to replace empire instincts with shepherd instincts.
Forty years to move from control to trust.
Forty years to learn that God provides just enough.

And maybe that’s what God is doing in us.

We may have left “Egypt,” but Egypt hasn’t fully left us. The drive for more. The reflex to control. The fear that we won’t have enough.

But the Shepherd keeps leading us to pockets of grace. To daily bread. To still waters.

He keeps whispering:

You have what you need.
I am your source.
You are standing on holy ground.

So wherever you find yourself today—around a dinner table, in a quiet house, in a wilderness season—pause for a moment.

Take off your sandals.

And remember:
The Lord is your shepherd.
You have everything you need.