On the pulpit of a small church in Scotland, I found an image of the burning bush and a Latin inscription: nec tamen consumebatur.
Moses was keeping the flock of his father-in-law Jethro, the priest of Midian; he led his flock beyond the wilderness, and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in a flame of fire out of a bush; he looked, and the bush was blazing, yet it was not consumed. – Exodus 3:1-2 (NRSV)
I don’t know Latin, so of course, I googled it. The computer-generated translation came back: “not yet spent.” Which made me laugh. Because it seemed to drastically undersell the miracle of the burning bush. Like a picture of Jesus walking on the water with the caption, “He didn’t drown.”
The phrase evoked not a supernaturally pristine shrub whose flames left it untouched, but a burned-out skeleton of a thing that had been smoldering for days, waiting for Moses to show up. But still, it had just enough fuel to eke out a flame. Not yet spent.
Which, if somewhat less astounding, does feel like a more achievable model for my own faith.
Last week, a friend reached out to ask for prayer. She’s anxious about the American political system. More than anxious, near despairing. Which made me more-than-anxious, because she is one of the people I go to for practical, grounded hope.
I assured her I would pray. And then, she assured me: I’m giving myself today, and then I’ll get back out there.
A model for my faith. Not an inexhaustible fount of energy. Not a miraculous paragon untouched by reality. But a steady source of light, who works hard to keep the flame alive.
Prayer
Deus, dum spiro spero. God, while I breathe I hope.
About the Author
Vince Amlin is co-pastor of Bethany UCC, Chicago, and co-planter of Gilead Church Chicago, forming now.