12/1 God of Gershom and Eliezer

Acts Sermon 34

Date: December 1, 2024

Title: The God of Gershom and Eliezer

Scripture Text:

Acts 7:32-37 (NIV)

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.

34 I have indeed seen the oppression of my people in Egypt. I have heard their groaning and have come down to set them free. Now come, I will send you back to Egypt.’

35 “This is the same Moses they had rejected with the words, ‘Who made you ruler and judge?’ He was sent to be their ruler and deliverer by God himself, through the angel who appeared to him in the bush.

36 He led them out of Egypt and performed wonders and signs in Egypt, at the Red Sea and for forty years in the wilderness.

37 “This is the Moses who told the Israelites, ‘God will raise up for you a prophet like me from your own people.’

Honestly, I hadn’t planned to spend so many weeks on Moses. However, as I prepared for these sermons, I sensed that the Lord wanted us to meditate more deeply on Moses. So, following God’s leading, we will spend a few more weeks reflecting on the God of Moses.

Last week, we looked at the scene where God called Moses through a gentle flame that did not burn up the bush. God told Moses, “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.”

On Thanksgiving, we had some visitors at our home, including people who hadn’t visited in a long time. Since they hadn’t seen how our home had changed over the years, they were surprised by all the transformations that had happened.

Originally, our basement was what professionals would call an “unfinished basement.”

The walls were exposed concrete blocks, and the floor was just cement painted with waterproof paint, which could never really look clean no matter how much we scrubbed.

Naturally, you could only walk there in shoes or slippers.

The lighting consisted of exposed incandescent bulbs that had to be turned on and off one by one, making the space dark and uninviting. Except for doing laundry, we hardly used it at all.

After living like this for years, I began to think it was a waste of space. So, I decided to buy flooring I could install myself and laid it down on one side of the basement. I also set up a projector and created a family theater since we didn’t have a TV at home.

Laying the flooring turned out to be easier than I expected. Once I had covered about a third of the space, even my young kids started running barefoot there. Seeing this, I eventually extended the flooring to cover almost the entire basement, except for the storage area.

This once-neglected space slowly transformed into a livable area. Last summer, the condition of the walls deteriorated, so we renovated both the walls and the ceiling. Now, the basement has become what you’d call a “finished basement.”

Yesterday, in that space, we ate together, worshiped together, and watched my kids running and rolling around on the floor. How could I not feel proud?

I’m sharing this story not to boast about my flooring project but to make a point: none of this transformation would have been possible if the basement had remained a space where shoes were required.

Shoes allow us to go anywhere—through dirty streets or over rough and hard surfaces—without much trouble.

When we wear shoes, we can also share spaces with strangers without feeling out of place.

But when we take off our shoes, the places we can go and the people we can meet become much more limited. Taking off your shoes and sitting on the floor implies intimacy. It signifies that the people you’re with are close enough to be considered family.

Meeting weekly at church while keeping our “shoes on,” so to speak, is one thing. But inviting someone into your home, where they take off their shoes and spend time in your personal space, is a completely different level of relationship.

I firmly believe that a church should be a community where we can metaphorically “take off our shoes” with one another. The Bible describes the church as one body, saying that if one part suffers, the whole body suffers with it.

A true church community is formed by people who can invite one another into such intimate, shoe-less spaces.

The God who appeared to Moses in the burning bush desired this kind of relationship.

God came to Moses as a gentle flame that didn’t burn—a symbol of His tender, patient approach. And in this intimacy, God invited Moses to join Him in His mission to save souls. God wanted to walk with Moses, so close that even a whisper could be heard.

Does This Apply Only to Moses?

If we were to simplify the Old Testament, beginning with the story of Moses, it could be described as the narrative of a few praiseworthy individuals whom God used powerfully, and the rest—a foolish people who repeatedly strayed from Him.

Does this mean that pastors like me belong to the group of figures like Moses, while the rest of the congregation must remain with the foolish people?

Absolutely not.

I remember when I was a small group leader for new believers, leading quiet times (Q.T). The passage one day was from the book of Joshua. After the group session ended, a strange chill came over me, and a question arose in my heart:

“Wherever you go, I will be with you.”

This was something God had promised Joshua. But why was I receiving it as if it were a personal promise to me?

So, I asked a young man in the group who had been in the church much longer than I had. He was a solid, faithful believer, but even he seemed slightly caught off guard by my question. He replied, “Well, since God doesn’t change, I think those promises apply to us too, don’t they?”

Although his answer didn’t fully resolve my question, I accepted the sense that God had indeed given me this promise as well, and I moved on.

But let me ask you: Why do you believe that promises made to Moses or Abraham have any connection to you personally?

Moses and the other key figures of the Old Testament are foreshadows of the Messiah—Jesus Christ.

They were imperfect, yet they were led by God’s Spirit. When they obeyed, they were used mightily for His purposes.

We, as believers, have the Spirit of Jesus—the Holy Spirit, the very Spirit of God—dwelling within us.

This means that people like Moses weren’t just shadows of Christ. They were also shadows of us, who now live with the indwelling Holy Spirit.

Therefore, every word God spoke to them, every promise He made, is even more directly relevant to us today. Amen?

If the God of Moses is your God and mine, then God calls us to take off our shoes as well. He invites us into that same sacred space, into that same intimate relationship.

God’s call to Moses is also His call to us: “Come closer.”

Moses had two sons. The name of his first son was Gershom, which, as the book of Exodus explains, means, “I have become a foreigner in a foreign land.”

Imagine if someone you knew decided to name their child something like that—wouldn’t you be tempted to try to dissuade them? This name gives us a glimpse into Moses’ state of mind at the time, and it’s clear that he wasn’t in a positive place.

Even as he started a new family and welcomed his firstborn son, the bitterness and despair in Moses’ heart came through in the name he chose.

Moses was an Israelite by birth, but after his early months, he was raised in the Egyptian palace, where he spent 40 years. However, it’s evident that he was never fully accepted there. The moment his crime of killing an Egyptian was exposed, Pharaoh, who was like a grandfather figure to him, immediately sought to kill him.

At the age of 40, Moses believed he was ready to lead Israel as their deliverer, but his efforts were rejected by his own people. As a result, he became a fugitive, fleeing to the wilderness of Midian. Even there, he could not truly belong. Moses had no place he could call home—he was, in every sense, a wanderer.

It was during this time in the wilderness that God began to shape Moses into someone He could use.

Moses saw himself as “Gershom.” That name wasn’t just his first son’s name—it symbolized the 40 years Moses spent in the wilderness, feeling like an alien in a foreign land.

Later, Moses had a second son. The Bible doesn’t specify exactly when this child was born, but we know that when Moses encountered God at the burning bush and left Midian at the age of 80, only his wife Zipporah and his firstborn, Gershom, accompanied him.

From this, we can deduce that Moses’ second son was born after his encounter with God, during the events of the Exodus.

This son’s name was Eliezer.

Exodus 18:4 (NIV):

“The other was named Eliezer, for he said, ‘My father’s God was my helper; he saved me from the sword of Pharaoh.’”

Does the name “Eliezer” sound familiar? Do you remember Abraham’s servant—the one who went to find Rebekah to be Isaac’s wife? That faithful servant, who played a role even greater than Isaac himself during that mission, was also named Eliezer.

The meaning of the name “Eliezer” is “God is my help.”

Moses gave his second son this name after witnessing God’s deliverance at the Red Sea, where God saved him and the Israelites from Pharaoh’s sword in a dramatic and miraculous way. Moses named his son Eliezer to declare, “God is my help.”

n stories—whether novels or films—there is always a main character and supporting characters. The main character is the protagonist, and the others play a supporting role.

When we think of the name Eliezer, meaning “God is my help,” it gives the impression that God plays the supporting role, while we are the protagonists.

And here’s the surprising truth: this is exactly what God desires.

Genesis 1:28 (NIV):

“God blessed them and said to them, ‘Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.’”

God entrusted humanity with the rule of all creation. He gave us the food we need, wisdom through His presence, and the freedom to govern as we depend on Him. In essence, He was saying, “I will help you; rule over the world!”

The same was true of God’s relationship with Moses.

God stood beside an 80-year-old shepherd, Moses, manifesting His power through Moses’ humble staff. Together, they completely devastated Egypt.

The climax of God’s help was the parting of the Red Sea. The Israelites crossed safely on dry ground, while the Egyptian army was utterly destroyed.

When Moses named his second son Eliezer—*“God is my help”—*it was in response to this very event.

Exodus 14:21 (NIV):

“Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the Lord drove the sea back with a strong east wind and turned it into dry land. The waters were divided.”

This scene sends chills down my spine every time I picture it. The parting of the sea is an awe-inspiring miracle, but for the Creator and Sustainer of the universe, it’s not beyond His capability.

What truly stirs me is this:

When Moses stretched out his hand, God divided the sea.

It wasn’t Moses who parted the sea. All Moses did was obey God’s command and stretch out his hand over the waters. But the moment he did, God, who had been waiting for that act of faith, parted the sea.

To the two million Israelites watching, it must have looked as though Moses himself had performed the miracle.

This is the kind of partnership God desires with us.

God wants to work with us to bring about a spiritual exodus in the lives of those who have been enslaved by sin—turning people who once served themselves into those who serve God.

When Moses stretched out his hand in faith, God acted, delivering His people.

Looking back at last summer, when we learned we would have to leave Battery Park, it seemed impossible to find a new gathering place in Manhattan. We searched for months and faced despair.

But then God parted the sea before us, and here we are, worshiping together in this space for a year and a half now. During this time, we’ve gone on missions, evangelized in Times Square, and held two CROSS events—things that seemed unimaginable at first.

God still wants to part seas with us today.

But He doesn’t call us to simple, comfortable tasks that require no faith. Instead, He invites us to step into seemingly impossible, even embarrassing situations—to stretch out our hands for the sake of saving souls.

It’s in those moments that God becomes our Eliezer—our help.

These acts of faith often come at great cost. Sometimes, we face criticism and disbelief. Just as the Israelites, trapped between the sea and the pursuing Egyptian army, quickly forgot the ten plagues and miracles of deliverance, we too are prone to forget. Instead of trusting God, the Israelites turned against Moses and even threatened to stone him.

This illustrates the stark contrast between Moses and the Israelites. God was not comparing Moses to Pharaoh but to the very people he was leading.

If Moses had stretched out his hand over the sea and nothing had happened, he would have been killed—not by Pharaoh’s army, but by the angry mob of Israelites. Yet Moses didn’t cry out to the people; he cried out to God. In his trust, Moses remained calm before the people, reflecting his faith in God’s deliverance.

This is the difference between foolish people and a transformed servant of God.

Where do you stand?

Will you stand with Moses, trusting in God, or with the Israelites, who so quickly forget His grace?

God wants to work with us, but He requires faith. He calls us to stretch out our hands even before the sea moves. Stretching out a hand may seem like a small act—it doesn’t part the sea. But it is a small act that demands great faith, and it is that faith that invites God to do great things.

The tasks God asks of us are always simple acts of obedience—reaching out to a neighbor, showing kindness to coworkers, living as a Christ-like example in our daily lives. These acts may seem small, but they can lead to miraculous outcomes.

By the time next year’s CROSS event comes around, we will have spent a year in these small, faithful acts of obedience. What will we see when those seas part?

Some may walk through those doors, and simply being there will feel like a miracle—their very presence a sign of God’s work. Let us spend the next year faithfully stretching out our hands so that together, we may witness the seas part once more.

Gershom and Eliezer Are Two Faces of God in Moses’ Life

The God of Gershom is the one who reminds us that He is our true place of rest and that His children are ultimately sojourners in this world.

If Moses had not experienced Gershom, he would not have been able to meet God, nor would he have been prepared to be used by Him.

That is why, during seasons when we feel settled in our jobs, homes, and families, we must cling even more tightly to the God of Gershom. We must seek Him to avoid losing our sojourner’s heart.

In that sense, isn’t our church a true blessing?

For years, we’ve worshiped in different places during Christmas and the year-end season. This year, too, we will hold our Christmas service and December 29th Sunday worship in a different location.

Yes, this is inconvenient, but in a way, it’s something to be thankful for.

What a tremendous blessing it is to preserve our sojourner’s heart, not through other areas of life, but through the most spiritual area—our church! Amen!

The Help of God—Eliezer—Is Given Only to Those Who Know the God of Gershom

The defining characteristic of a sojourner or traveler is humility.

No matter how much research a traveler does before their journey, they lack direct experience and therefore remain humble. They rarely feel a sense of pride or offense at being underestimated or overlooked.

However, once the traveler begins to settle down, anger and wounded pride start to emerge. The more they establish their sense of belonging, the more prone they are to feeling frustrated and resentful when things don’t go their way.

In such moments—when the world feels disappointing, unjust, or infuriating—we need to remember the God of Gershom.

We must thank Him for revealing to us how quickly we begin to act as if we are the masters of this place.

We should thank Him for reminding us that this world is not our eternal home and for helping us surrender our will and standards to Him.

When we do this, the Lord will see us as people He can use.

When We Meet the God of Eliezer

We will encounter the God of Eliezer:

• We will experience His protection before the Pharaohs in our lives.

• We will meet the God who gives us the words to say when we stand before difficult challenges.

• We will meet the God who gives us the strength to take the next step of faith when we feel weak.

And when we stretch out our arms toward the surging sea with beads of sweat running down our foreheads, we will encounter the help of God—our Eliezer—through miracles that defy belief.

In Moses’ time, the person in the most danger was not who it appeared to be.

It wasn’t Moses, the shepherd wandering in the wilderness. It was Pharaoh, seated in the grandeur of his palace.

Let us give thanks for the discomforts in life that remind us we are Gershom. Let us praise the difficulties that bring us to the God of Eliezer.

Let us give thanks for the life situations that teach us to remember we are not the owners of this place, but sojourners passing through.

And may we give glory to the Lord, who makes us ready to be used and allows us to experience His mighty help.