Reflections...

A sermon preached at Kowloon Union Church on 30 August 2026, by Revd Dr Tobias Brandner. The scripture readings that day was Exodus 3:1-15

Sermon – "God Near and Far"

When I attend social gatherings and people discover that I am a pastor and theologian, it is not uncommon for them to approach me with questions about the Bible and the Christian faith. Usually, they hope that I will be able to provide clear answers to questions they may have carried for years. Yet I often leave such conversations with the uneasy impression that people understand less after I have spoken than before. Sometimes I wonder whether I simply lack the gift of explaining things clearly.

But over the years, I have come to suspect that theology is not primarily the art of providing answers. Perhaps theology is more the art of keeping questions alive. It is often the unanswered question that drives our spiritual growth. Faith grows not when all mysteries are solved but when we continue to seek, to wrestle, and to trust.

Fundamentalist forms of religion often seek to close questions quickly. They offer certainty and ask people simply to accept the answers provided. An ecumenical understanding of faith, as we practice it in KUC, by contrast, welcomes questions. It values diversity and recognizes that even our best answers point beyond themselves to a greater mystery.

Why are we here? Why does suffering exist? Where do we go from here? Who is God? Where is God when we most need God?

These may sound like abstract questions, but most people encounter them at some point in life. They arise during times of transition, moments of crisis, experiences of loss, and especially when we face our own mortality. Throughout history, pastors and theologians have stood before people seeking answers while knowing that the ultimate answers remain with God.

Today’s Old Testament reading is one of those passages that may leave us with more questions than answers. It is the story of Moses' encounter with God at the burning bush. It is one of the most profound moments in Scripture: a divine revelation, a calling, and a glimpse into the mystery of who God is.

To understand the significance of this encounter, we must first consider the situation of the Israelites.

Reading the Old Testament can sometimes be challenging, but one helpful approach is to read it as the story of a relationship between a parent and children. Imagine a parent who has remained silent for generations. The last direct word from God recorded before this moment had come many years earlier, when God appeared to Jacob. By the time Moses was born, several generations had passed.

The Israelites had originally come to Egypt as refugees. During a time of famine and hardship, Joseph had risen to prominence there, and his family joined him. Like so many migrants throughout history and up to today, they moved in search of security and a better future. Yet over time their hopes faded. Instead of flourishing, they found themselves oppressed, exploited, and reduced to forced labor.

Perhaps even more painful than their suffering was God's apparent silence. For generations there seemed to be no word from heaven. One can imagine their sense of abandonment. What child would not feel forgotten after such a long silence?

It was in this context that Moses was born.

His survival was itself miraculous. Pharaoh had ordered the killing of all Hebrew baby boys. Yet through the courage and ingenuity of his mother and sister, Moses was saved and eventually raised within Pharaoh's palace. He grew up as an outsider between two worlds: Hebrew by birth, Egyptian by upbringing.

Although he enjoyed the privilege and comfort of palace life, he never lost his sense of connection with his own people. One day he witnessed an Egyptian mistreating a Hebrew slave. Something within him erupted. His passion for justice overcame him, and he killed the Egyptian.

It is important not to romanticize this event. Moses committed murder. He engaged in an act of violence that forced him to flee. When Pharaoh learned what had happened, Moses escaped into the wilderness. There he found refuge among the Midianites, married, and began tending the flocks of his father-in-law.

Then came the moment that changed everything.

While caring for sheep near Horeb, the mountain of God, Moses saw a bush burning with fire, yet not consumed. Curious, he approached. As he drew near, a voice called from the bush: “Moses, Moses.”

After more than a century of silence, God spoke.

This encounter reveals something essential about who God is. Yet what is striking throughout the story is the tension between God's nearness and God's distance. God appears both close and far away, intimate and mysterious. We might describe four dimensions of God revealed in this passage.

The first is God as the Holy One.

As Moses approaches, God immediately warns him: “Do not come any closer. Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.”

The gesture of removing one's shoes is deeply significant. Across many cultures and religions, people remove their shoes before entering sacred spaces. I remember how I climbed a Buddhist mountain in Myanmar barefoot. Or I remember how Korean pastors take off their shows when accessing the stage and pulpit. It is a sign of humility and reverence. One comes as one truly is, stripped of status and protection.
 
God's holiness reminds us that God is not simply an extension of ourselves. God cannot be controlled, packaged, marketed, or reduced to a comfortable image. The Second Commandment warns against idols precisely because we are tempted to make God manageable. Yet God's holiness resists our attempts to capture or domesticate the divine.

Moses hides his face because he is afraid to look upon God. The encounter fills him with awe. Before the Holy One, there is no room for arrogance. We too must remove our sandals, whether those sandals are our achievements, our titles, or our illusions of self-sufficiency.

Yet the story does not end with distance.

The second dimension is God as the Faithful One.

God introduces himself as “the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob.” With these words, God builds a bridge to Moses. The God who seems distant is also the God who has accompanied previous generations.

Imagine a stranger arriving at your door and introducing himself as an old friend of your grandparents, speaking with intimate knowledge of your family history. The stranger would no longer seem entirely strange.

That is what God does with Moses. After generations of silence, God reminds Moses that he stands within a larger story. The God who was faithful to the ancestors remains faithful today.

The third dimension is God as the One who acts in history.

God tells Moses, “I have seen the misery of my people. I have heard their cries. I am concerned about their suffering.”

These are remarkable words. God is not indifferent. God sees, hears, and cares.
Even more, God acts. God declares an intention to rescue the Israelites and lead them into freedom. The history of oppression will not have the final word.

This aspect of God's nature remains central to our faith. God continually creates new possibilities. God opens doors where none seem to exist. This is the foundation of forgiveness and reconciliation.

Forgiveness does not erase the past. Imagine you have been deeply hurt – be it in your family or in some other relationship. The wounds remain real. The suffering that occurred cannot be undone. Yet forgiveness means that the past no longer determines the future. Forgiveness is very important, not just for the offender, but maybe even more for the victim, because if you cannot forgive, you will continue to carry the burden of your pain with you. Forgiving does not mean that the past has not happened. It is there, it is acknowledged, but we are not bound by it anymore. By forgiving, we are set free from being bound by anger and the sense of being victim. 

In Exodus, God transforms history from a story of slavery into a story of liberation. God remains the One who creates possibilities where none seemed possible before. Yet Moses still wants to know more. He asks God's name.

And here we encounter the fourth dimension: God as Mystery.

God replies, “I AM WHO I AM.”

It is an answer that seems almost like no answer at all. God gives Moses a name that remains elusive. God reveals and conceals at the same time.

Years ago, my family lived in Thailand. Near our home was a restaurant that offered a dish called “No Name.” Curious, I once asked what it contained. The owner laughed and explained that it was made from whatever ingredients happened to be available that day. Since the contents constantly changed, the dish could not have a fixed name. So they just called it “No Name.”

In some ways God's answer resembles that dish. The living God cannot be reduced to a definition. God is always greater than our descriptions. God travels with us, encounters us anew in changing circumstances, and continually exceeds our understanding.

The closer we come to God, the more we discover the limits of our understanding.
And yet this mystery should not frustrate us. It should humble us. We often speak too confidently about God. We claim certainty where perhaps there should be wonder. But God remains the eternal mystery at the heart of all existence. 

As we conclude, we remember that the God Moses encountered is the same God revealed in Jesus Christ. In Jesus we again encounter this tension between nearness and mystery. God comes close enough to walk among us, yet remains beyond complete understanding, especially in the mystery of the cross.

The God of the burning bush is still the God we worship today: the God of holiness, the God of faithfulness, the God who acts in history, and the God of mystery. As an ecumenical community, we are called to reflect these same dimensions in our lives. We approach God's holiness with humility. We mirror God's faithfulness in our commitment and faithfulness to one another. As we worship the God who intervenes in history, we become people who participate in God's work of healing, justice, reconciliation, and liberation in the world. And as we stand before God's mystery, we remain humble, recognizing that no doctrine or theology can fully contain the One who simply is.

Perhaps that is the greatest lesson of the burning bush. God is nearer than we imagine and greater than we can comprehend. God calls us by name, as God called Moses, yet remains the holy mystery beyond all understanding.

We live in a world that seeks quick answers. Faith, however, is not ultimately about possessing answers. Faith is about trusting God amid unanswered questions. It is about believing that God is present even during times of silence. It is about trusting that God's faithfulness continues when we cannot yet see the way forward.

The voice from the burning bush still speaks today. May we have the courage of Moses to draw near, the humility to remove our sandals, the openness to say, “Here I am,” and the faith to follow wherever God may lead us.

Amen.