11/24 People with Wearproof Shoes

Sermon: Acts Series 33

Date: 11/24/2024

Title: People with Wearproof Shoes

Text: Acts 7:22-33

Scripture Reading: Acts 7:22-33

22 Moses was educated in all the wisdom of the Egyptians and was powerful in speech and action.

23 When Moses was forty years old, he decided to visit his own people, the Israelites.

24 He saw one of them being mistreated by an Egyptian, so he went to his defense and avenged him by killing the Egyptian.

25 Moses thought that his own people would realize that God was using him to rescue them, but they did not.

26 The next day Moses came upon two Israelites who were fighting. He tried to reconcile them by saying, ‘Men, you are brothers; why do you want to hurt each other?’

27 But the man who was mistreating the other pushed Moses aside and said, ‘Who made you ruler and judge over us?

28 Are you thinking of killing me as you killed the Egyptian yesterday?’

29 When Moses heard this, he fled to Midian, where he settled as a foreigner and had two sons.

30 After forty years had passed, an angel appeared to Moses in the flames of a burning bush in the desert near Mount Sinai.

31 When he saw this, he was amazed at the sight. As he went over to get a closer look, he heard the Lord say:

32 ‘I am the God of your fathers, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.’ Moses trembled with fear and did not dare to look.

33 Then the Lord said to him, ‘Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.’

Since Moses was a man pleasing in God’s eyes, the Bible, God’s Word, devotes more space to Moses than to almost any other figure.

Although Moses was not a perfect man, he was a special individual whom God delighted to use. Moreover, when we view his life as a story of growth, it becomes an incomparable source of benefit and learning for us.

Moses was nurtured with special care and provision in his mother’s arms until he was weaned. Afterward, he was raised as a prince in Pharaoh’s palace, receiving the finest education Egypt could provide.

By the age of 40, Moses had grown into a robust and confident Egyptian prince. Acts 7:22 describes him as an exceptional man. He was skilled in many languages, eloquent in speech, and proficient in his endeavors. These attributes indicate that as a prince, Moses excelled in areas such as military strategy and governance, making him an outstanding leader.

Moses also felt within himself that he was now ready. A burden arose in his heart to care for his oppressed people.

Although he was not unaware of the treatment the Israelites endured, his position as a member of Pharaoh’s household—always under suspicion as a possible spy—left him powerless to act. All he could do was diligently refine his skills.

However, at 40 years old, sensing his readiness, the burden on his heart grew heavier. “I must do something,” he thought. “This is my calling, my destiny.”

When Moses ventured into the region where the Israelites lived—an area he had been reluctant to visit—he witnessed a scene that was all too familiar. He saw an Egyptian guard brutally mistreating an Israelite. Enraged by the harsh treatment, Moses struck down the Egyptian and buried him in the sand.

This event caused a significant change in Moses. Acts 7:24–26 reveals his thoughts:

“24 He saw one of them being mistreated by an Egyptian, so he went to his defense and avenged him by killing the Egyptian. 25 Moses thought that his own people would realize that God was using him to rescue them, but they did not. 26 The next day Moses came upon two Israelites who were fighting. He tried to reconcile them by saying, ‘Men, you are brothers; why do you want to hurt each other?’”

Although Moses had lived as an Egyptian in Pharaoh’s palace for 40 years, he did not feel remorse for killing the Egyptian. Instead, he saw it as a righteous act.

Moses believed this act was an act of vengeance on behalf of his people and thought it would be a clear sign of his divine calling to deliver the Israelites. He assumed that his people would recognize this and acknowledge him as their savior.

He even saw the rescue of the oppressed Israelite as a symbolic precursor to the greater salvation God would accomplish through him. He was confident that the people would understand.

The next day, Moses returned to the Israelite community. What did he expect to find?

Surely, he thought, there was no one better prepared to save the Israelites from their oppression. News of his actions the previous day must have spread among the people. He believed they would quietly hope for Moses to be their savior, even if they didn’t openly celebrate.

However, when Moses tried to intervene in a dispute between two Israelites, their response was entirely unexpected:

“27 But the man who was mistreating the other pushed Moses aside and said, ‘Who made you ruler and judge over us? 28 Are you thinking of killing me as you killed the Egyptian yesterday?’”

Not only did the man rebuff Moses, but he physically pushed him aside. There was no gratitude, no respect—only resentment. “Who made you ruler and judge over us?” he demanded. In other words, “Who do you think you are?”

It didn’t stop there. He added, “Are you going to kill me as you killed the Egyptian?”

Moses had indeed become known, just as he expected. But in the eyes of the people, his actions were not seen as a rescue or an act of justice. Instead, they viewed him as the one who killed an Egyptian, potentially bringing greater trouble upon them.

They neither trusted Moses nor saw him as a source of hope for deliverance from Egypt’s oppression.

The man Moses thought would be a hero, even a savior, suddenly became an outcast. His killing of the Egyptian made him a traitor to Egypt, and his people did not accept him as their leader. He belonged nowhere.

We know from Scripture that Moses would later fulfill his calling to deliver Israel, proving that his sense of purpose at 40 was not entirely misplaced. Yet, it was not the right time, and the conditions were not yet aligned.

It was clear that the Israelites were not ready. Exodus 2:23 reveals:

“During that long period, the king of Egypt died. The Israelites groaned in their slavery and cried out, and their cry for help because of their slavery went up to God.”

By this point, Moses had been a fugitive for 40 years. From the time of his birth, the Israelites had been under harsh oppression for 80 years. It was only then that their cries reached God.

It wasn’t that they had never cried out before, but their cries had not yet reached the depth of complete dependence on God. They still relied on their own efforts and human wisdom, hoping that Pharaoh might grant them relief, rather than fully turning to God in desperation.

Even after Moses left Egypt, it took another 40 years for the Israelites to reach a place of readiness. Their absolute reliance on God was still far off.

As we read the story of Exodus, we see that even after their deliverance, the Israelites constantly complained. At the first sign of difficulty, they grumbled against Moses, longing to return to Egypt. “Why did you bring us out of Egypt?” they asked. “It was better there!” They acted as if Egypt had been a place worth staying.

Looking back, it’s evident that even at the time of their initial deliverance, the Israelites were not fully prepared.

Moses’ actions at age 40 reveal that the Israelites were still looking for Pharaoh’s crumbs of mercy, rather than dreaming of freedom and trusting in God’s power. They weren’t ready to be delivered, and tragically, it took another 40 years of suffering to prepare them for that step.

Is this just Israel’s story? Or is it ours as well?

Have you truly left Egypt? Have you completely abandoned your old life without longing for what you left behind? Have you made God the absolute Lord of your life? Without this, God cannot be merely a helper or protector.

We call God our Father, friend, protector, Savior, and provider—all true names. But all of these roles begin with Him as our Lord. Jesus cannot be our friend, provider, or Savior unless He is first our Lord. Yet, when He is our Lord, He becomes far more than all of these combined.

Unfortunately, despite all their suffering, the Israelites were still far from being ready for salvation.

But was the problem only with the Israelites? Was Moses himself truly ready?

At 40 years old, Moses excelled in every way. He was trained in both academics and military strategy in Egypt, the most powerful nation of the time. As a prince, he likely held significant authority and had valuable experience leading battles.

Compared to the Israelites, who were enslaved and considered the lowest of the low, Moses must have stood out as a shining figure of hope. Yet, in God’s eyes, Moses was not ready. What was lacking?

To understand what Moses still needed, we can compare the 40-year-old Moses, who tried to deliver Israel through his own strength, with the 80-year-old Moses, whom God finally called into service.

First, consider their age. The physical strength and vitality of the 40-year-old Moses cannot be compared to that of the 80-year-old Moses. Furthermore, their social status and resources were vastly different. Moses at 40 had power, wealth, and influence; Moses at 80 had none of these.

But the most striking difference is highlighted in Exodus 4:10:

“Moses said to the LORD, ‘Pardon your servant, Lord. I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue.’”

At 40, Moses was described as eloquent and persuasive, a man skilled in speech. But after 40 years in the wilderness as a shepherd, Moses had become unaccustomed to speaking and felt entirely unqualified for the role of a prophet.

While Moses was physically capable at 40, he relied on his own abilities and confidence. At 80, he had none of that confidence left. When God called him, Moses responded in desperation:

“But Moses said, ‘Pardon your servant, Lord. Please send someone else.’” (Exodus 4:13)

The 80-year-old Moses didn’t just exhibit humility; he truly believed he was incapable of fulfilling God’s mission.

Let me share a verse I memorized when I first came to faith:

Proverbs 18:12

“Before a downfall the heart is haughty, but humility comes before honor.”

I initially memorized this verse because it was short and easy to remember. At the time, I thought I understood its meaning. But looking back, I realize I knew little about true humility or the dangers of pride.

In those days, I considered humility to be merely polite behavior—pretending to respect others while inwardly dismissing them. But this superficial humility is actually the worst form of pride.

C.S. Lewis wrote extensively about pride and humility. He called pride the “cancer of the soul” and described it as the root of all sin. He noted that pride is inherently competitive, finding satisfaction not in one’s achievements but in surpassing others. Pride, he argued, is insatiable because it thrives on comparison.

Lewis also observed the close relationship between pride and insecurity. A prideful person is often plagued with feelings of inadequacy because pride depends on constant validation and superiority over others.

Lewis redefined humility, not as self-deprecation but as “thinking less about yourself.” True humility shifts focus away from oneself toward God and others.

The path to overcoming pride and insecurity is the same: to love God and others more and to think of oneself less. This shift frees us from the grip of pride and insecurity.

When we live selfishly, prioritizing our own desires, we become increasingly anxious and dissatisfied. This is the trap Satan sets for us. Yet, when we live for others, God’s blessings flow into our lives, and we experience true fulfillment. That is real humility, the path to honor described in Proverbs.

When God called Moses at 80, He initially spoke to him with encouragement, showing Moses miraculous signs to assure him. Yet Moses still resisted, insisting he was unqualified.

This exchange reveals a profound truth: God found the 80-year-old Moses, stripped of confidence and self-reliance, far more useful than the self-assured 40-year-old Moses. Moses’ reluctance, while not an ideal response, was at least free of pride. And God can work with humility, even if it is laced with doubt, far more effectively than with arrogance.

God can use the weak, but He cannot use the proud.

Even the gravest sinner, if humble, can kneel before God in repentance. But the proud cannot. Pride hardens the heart and blinds us to God’s grace.

For those who know me, my journey of faith came late, and it wasn’t an easy one. I came to the United States with the intention of sharing my faith with a wandering friend, hoping to support each other in our spiritual journeys. But in the end, I arrived alone. Here, God guided me into art school, and I believed that upon graduating, the path God had prepared for me would unfold.

During my time in art school, I spent much of my energy befriending younger students and inviting them to church. I also started prayer meetings on campus and found joy in sharing the gospel. However, the themes of the artwork, the spiritual atmosphere of the school, and the worldview of the professors often left me spiritually burdened.

Looking back, I now see that my zeal was not purely motivated by love. My insecurities, spiritual pride, and desire for recognition were entangled with my efforts.

After graduating, I experienced a season of deep struggle. As a husband with no job and a wife who had to work, I felt utterly humiliated. Taking care of my child at home, I frequently found myself losing patience. Those were some of the most challenging days of my life.

Through those hardships and subsequent trials, I came to identify with the 80-year-old Moses. I realized that, like him, I had to be stripped of my pride to be made useful for God’s purposes.

It wasn’t that I deeply desired to attend seminary. I simply couldn’t remain in my current state, and every other path felt blocked, as if walking any other way would lead to unbearable distress. To be honest, seminary became a way of escape—any place but where I was seemed better. That’s how I found myself taking my first steps toward seminary. Throughout my time there, I often thought about the 80-year-old Moses.

Like Moses at that age, I felt completely inadequate for anything. I lacked confidence and felt incapable of doing anything significant.

Near the end of seminary, during a preaching class with a renowned professor, we were assigned to prepare and deliver a sermon. For me, it felt like the first and perhaps only opportunity to preach to both Americans and Korean second-generation seminarians. I still remember challenging them with these words:

“Friends, every day, people from all over the world gather in Times Square, right here in our backyard in New York City. If we, as students of a seminary located in New York, do nothing for them, how can we justify ourselves? Let us be the evangelists they need.”

Whether or not my words moved my classmates, God seemed to respond. Today, I preach weekly here in this place, and in the process, I’ve come to realize something profound. The Lord who waited 80 years for Moses to become ready also waited for me to learn true humility. Only when I reached that place was I finally useful to Him.

When God appeared to Moses in the wilderness, He revealed Himself in a simple and humble way. It wasn’t a towering pillar of fire reaching the heavens but a small flame within a bush that did not burn up—a symbol of humility.

Had God appeared as a raging storm or a blazing fire, perhaps the 80-year-old Moses would have turned and fled in fear.

God spoke to Moses:

“Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” (Acts 7:33)

What does it mean to remove one’s sandals? There are many interpretations, but the simplest one comes from everyday life. We take off our shoes when entering someone’s home. For the nomadic people of Moses’ time, removing one’s sandals signified entering a close, intimate space—a small rug near the bed or a tented area where family and close friends gathered.

To remove one’s sandals is to step into a space of intimacy, to be close enough to face one another. It’s an invitation to fellowship and relationship. God invited Moses into such closeness.

Are you sitting barefoot before the Lord? The Lord has invited you to come near.

After Moses’ encounter with God, he put his sandals back on, but he was no longer just a shepherd in the wilderness. He had become the shepherd of God’s people, tasked with caring for the flock of Israel.

Even the sandals Moses wore were no longer the same. Deuteronomy 29:5 tells us:

“During the forty years that I led you through the wilderness, your clothes did not wear out, nor did the sandals on your feet.”

For 40 years, Moses’ sandals did not wear out. God, his Master, protected even the soles of his shoes.

In the same way, I removed my shoes before the Lord and have since worn shoes that do not wear out. God has given me the privilege of caring for the souls He entrusts to me, and He provides for all that I need. Even when I face rejection or insult, I am learning to respond not with anger but with humility.

This is not false humility or insecure submission. It is a genuine humility that places God’s will above my own and values others more highly than myself.

Such humility transforms us into people like Moses, who grew to fear nothing but God.

So, which Moses are you most like? The 40-year-old Moses or the 80-year-old Moses?

The world urges us to be like the 40-year-old Moses—to be confident, ambitious, and self-reliant. Increasingly, the world’s leaders are being shaped in this mold.

But for God, such people are of no use.

Do you desire a life where God, who cares even for the soles of our feet, provides and protects you? If your longing is sincere, you must leave Egypt behind. God will help you. He will lead you out of Egypt’s palace and into the lowly places where He dwells.

He will guide you to a place where you can be truly useful to Him, where your life aligns with His purpose.

Amen.