Where Is God When I Need Direction?

Pastor Dennis Miller | January 18, 2026

That’s the question we’ve been asking in this season as we walk through the life of Moses in the book of Exodus. It’s an honest question—one most of us have asked at some point in our lives. Sometimes quietly. Sometimes desperately. Sometimes while standing in what feels like the middle of nowhere, wondering if God still sees us.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about leadership, calling, and the people who change the world. When we think about leaders who shaped history, names like Abraham Lincoln or Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. immediately come to mind. We remember their speeches—the Gettysburg Address, I Have a Dream—and we place those moments on pedestals. They feel untouchable. Larger than life.

I remember the first time I visited the Lincoln Memorial. I was a freshman in college, working with the Salvation Army in Washington, DC during Christmas break. I’d never traveled much before, and there I was, standing in this massive, sacred-feeling space. Lincoln’s words etched into stone. The reflection pool stretching out in front of me. And etched on those steps, a reminder of Dr. King’s dream.

Standing there, I remember thinking, I could never do something like that. I could never say something that powerful. I could never have that kind of impact.

And that’s where we often go wrong.

We tend to turn leaders into superheroes. We forget they were human. We forget they struggled. We forget they were afraid, insecure, imperfect, and sometimes deeply flawed. Abraham Lincoln wrestled with depression. Dr. King was only 34 years old when he gave that famous speech. Moses—well, Moses had blood on his hands. He was a murderer, a fugitive, a reluctant leader with a speech problem and a whole lot of insecurity.

Yet God used every one of them.

That’s why I love the story of Moses in Exodus 3. By this point in his life, Moses is not leading anyone. He’s not delivering speeches. He’s not confronting Pharaoh. He’s tending sheep in the wilderness, far from the palace, far from his people, far from his past. He has settled into early retirement in the desert.

And then God lights a bush on fire.

God has a way of getting our attention, doesn’t He?

The bush burns, but it doesn’t burn up. Moses gets curious. Then the bush speaks. And suddenly, Moses is standing barefoot on holy ground, face down, realizing this is no ordinary moment.

God tells Moses something powerful: I have seen the misery of my people. I have heard their cries. I care.

That’s good news. God sees suffering. God hears injustice. God cares deeply about what’s happening in the world.

But then comes the twist.

“So now,” God says, “I am sending you.”

You can almost hear Moses say, Wait—what?

God coming down to rescue His people meant God sending Moses. And that’s still how God works. We often want God to fix things with a snap of His fingers, while God is saying, I want to work through you.

We are the hands and feet of Jesus.

That’s not a metaphor—it’s a calling.

Moses responds the way most of us would: “Who am I?” In other words, I’m nobody. I’m not qualified. I don’t speak well. I don’t have what it takes.

And God doesn’t argue with Moses’s résumé. God doesn’t list Moses’s skills. God simply says, “I will be with you.”

That’s the promise.

God doesn’t call the qualified. He qualifies the called.

Moses had settled for comfort. The desert felt safe. No expectations. No confrontations. No risk. And yet, there was more. There is always more when God is involved.

I think about how easy it is for us to do the same thing—to shrink our lives down to manageable, comfortable routines. We go to work. We come home. We attend church. We stay busy. But deep down, we wonder, Is this really it?

There’s more to this life than just getting through the day.

I was reminded of that truth years ago when I visited Montgomery, Alabama. I toured Dexter Avenue Baptist Church, where a 26-year-old pastor named Martin Luther King Jr. helped organize the Montgomery Bus Boycott. And I thought about a 42-year-old woman named Rosa Parks—an ordinary, faithful Christian who made a simple decision on a city bus.

She didn’t give a speech that day. She didn’t organize a movement. She simply slid over and stayed seated.

And history changed.

God often works through small acts of courage, not grand gestures. Faithfulness in ordinary moments can ripple into extraordinary impact.

We like to imagine that if God ever calls us, it will be big and obvious. But more often than not, God meets us on the Cleveland Avenue bus—in everyday situations where love, courage, and obedience are quietly required.

So here’s the question I’m wrestling with, and maybe you should too:

What is God calling you to do?

Not someday. Not when you feel ready. Not when you’re more confident or more qualified. Right now. This week. In your family. In your workplace. In your community.

Where is God when you need direction?

He may be closer than you think—calling your name from a burning bush, nudging your heart through a scripture, a song, a conversation, or a quiet moment you didn’t expect.

The real question isn’t whether God is speaking.

The question is whether we’re willing to step out of the desert and respond.

Lord, give us courage. Help us to see the simple acts, the everyday moments, and the holy ground beneath our feet. And when You say, “I am sending you,” help us say, “Here I am.”

Amen.