Lessons from the Burning Bush
This week, one sermon message stirred something deep in me—and surprisingly, it wasn’t about Moses. It was about the bush.
The Pastor shared a perspective I’d never really considered: God didn’t choose a majestic tree or a mountain peak to speak from. He chose a simple, ordinary bush. No spotlight, no grandeur. Just something that was already there.
And that bush? It reminded me of us.
It was planted. It didn’t wander or strive. It stayed where it had been rooted. Maybe it had been sitting on that mountainside for years, unnoticed. Maybe it even wondered, Why am I here? Who am I serving? What’s the point of this season?
But even in its hiddenness, the bush may have been serving a quiet purpose—offering shade, shelter, or nourishment to passing creatures. It was part of the landscape. Part of the plan.
Then one day, God ignited it with His presence. The bush caught fire, yet wasn’t consumed—and through it, God spoke.
That image hit me hard.
Because how often do we question where we’ve been planted? We look around and wonder why nothing seems to be happening. Why we feel overlooked, stuck, or unimportant. But what if our “waiting” isn’t wasted?
What if we’re simply being prepared?