The part of the story we don't tell is this:

Moses never made it to the Promised Land.

He croaked before he could. All that walking for decades upon decades, and nothing to show for it. That's one way of looking at it.

The other way is this:

He spent the first several decades of his life delighting in a simple life with a simple wife in a simple corner of earth. He lived nothing worth writing about, but he never questioned where his next meal would come from.

Moses lived a stable life. He owned land probably. Maybe some goats, some gold.

But when he happened upon that flame-ridden bush that didn't burn, he removed his sandals. And the moment he removed his sandals, the world tilted. Moses' unconscious mind was shaken open to the presence of a great Voice.

As Moses wrapped his mind around a bush that could be engulfed in flames while remaining in tact, and around a Voice that dared to provide specific directions for his future, I imagine the goats and gold he'd accumulated suddenly lost all vitality. Nothing sparkled anymore. Nothing could ever compare to this spectacle.

That little teaser miracle was a drug. And Moses wanted more. He wanted it enough to trade the good life he'd built.

Had someone told Moses that he would never enter the Promised Land, would he still have ventured out to free the Israelites from the Egyptians and wander for forty years? I think so.

I like to imagine the ride was worth it. A sea split open. Bread fell from the sky. Water gushed from a rock. Every day was a fresh challenge, but each challenge was an opportunity for Moses to experience what the universe — his God — could stir up.

He traded his stability for a whirlwind of impossibility.

What we need in order to make our own trade and dive headfirst into that life is a burning bush moment.

And I believe that if the biblical God exists, then he must be secure enough and loving enough to handle our petty human demands for such a moment.

"Show me, and I will follow you." It sounds like a cop-out. A refusal to step out in faith. An immature entitlement to signs. But if the Bible is an accurate depiction of God's words, he repeatedly says that this is an okay thought to have.

In Jeremiah 29, he says, "For I know the plans I have for you ... then you will call on me and pray to me, and I will listen to you." In Isaiah 45, he says, "I summon you by name / and bestow on you a title of honor, / though you do not acknowledge me," and also, "I will strengthen you, / though you have not acknowledged me, / so that ... people may know there is none besides me."

Isaiah 30 says, "How gracious [God] will be when you cry for help! As soon as he hears, he will answer you." Then it says that when you walk to the left or to the right, you will hear that Voice behind you saying, "This is the way; walk in it." What's interesting is Isaiah says THEN, you will "desecrate your idols" and throw them away.

God talks first, you start to follow. Then as you follow and you hear God sticking around, you learn to give up your stability and your crutches.

Yes, faith is not based on "seeing." Everyone tells us this. What faith is not. What they don't tell us is what faith IS. Faith is based on "hearing."

I'm not a preacher by any means. I'm not a biblical scholar. For all I know, everything I've said here is a load of manure. So test it out. Ask questions. Talk to God and sit still long enough for him to talk back.

Maybe the silence is God clearing his throat and taking a sip of mineral water because he's got a lot to say.

What I do know is that there's no formula for trusting God and stepping forth toward a divine "destiny." If God is a creator of mankind, then we can see he's wild enough to make all kinds of odd humans. And if that's the case, then I doubt God expects all of us to follow him in one specific way.

Abraham followed God in his own way. Moses, an entirely different way.

Sometimes, I find myself so fixated on the "Promised Land" that I'm not fully devoted to the present. To the bush. The sea. The rock. I can become so obsessed with the future that I miss the miracles along the way and miss the Voice bathing the room I'm writing in now.

Four years ago, I asked for my burning bush. A year after that, I got it. And only a few months ago did I finally stop resisting God. But during the last few years, that burning bush stuck with me. It kept me on my risky career path.

That's the memory keeping me here now.

Don't give up. Ask for that burning bush. I swear on everything I know, you'll get it.