Here is a fact about Moses that can get lost in the Sunday school version of the story: he was 80 years old when God sent him back to Egypt. Not young and ambitious; not upwardly mobile; not in his prime; he was 80 years old (and, as Indiana Jones once said, “It’s not the age….it’s the mileage”). He had already spent forty years in Pharaoh’s palace learning everything Egypt had to offer, followed by another forty years in the Midian desert learning, among other things, that he wasn’t all that and a bag of chips after all.
Moses himself said, “I am not eloquent… I am slow of speech and of tongue” (Exodus 4:10). Technically, this comes at the burning bush, which happened while he was in Midian tending Jethro’s flock, so it counts. Forty years removed from Pharaoh’s court, and his first move when God shows up in a talking shrub is to argue he’s bad at public speaking. And that staff he carried? It did more for Moses than just being an active part of the miracles he performed by the power of God; it probably helped keep him upright as he traipsed through the desert and Egypt, and on toward the promised land.
By the time the burning bush conversation happened, Moses was a retired shepherd with a speech impediment and very low expectations for the remainder of his life. He was, in other words, not an obvious candidate for the second most significant leadership assignment in the history of the Old Testament (I’ll give the first to Adam, who was given the job of overseeing the earth—a lot to take on, for sure).
And yet. God had other plans.
Think about that, particularly if you are somewhere in your sixties or seventies and have quietly begun to wonder whether your most significant contributions are behind you. The cultural narrative around retirement tends to move in one direction: winding down, stepping back, making room for younger people, and enjoying the fruits of a life well lived. And there is nothing wrong with any of that. Rest is biblical. Stepping back is sometimes wise. Enjoying God’s provision and blessings is not a sin, no matter what Earl may occasionally be concerned about. But the story of Moses suggests something retirement magazines tend to leave out: God’s greatest purposes for a person’s life are not necessarily front-loaded into the productive working years. Sometimes the burning bush comes at 80.
(Now, to be honest, I’d not be sure how I would respond if I were 80 and went outside and one of my shrubs was on fire. Call the fire department and then grab a hose, I guess. If the shrub started speaking to me, I’d call it off and call a doctor instead.)
Moses himself seemed to understand this truth better in retrospect than he did in the moment. His response to God’s commission at the burning bush was not exactly enthusiastic. It was more like offering God a detailed list of reasons He had called the wrong person. Wrong family. Wrong credentials. Wrong speaking ability. His clothes and grooming habits probably weren’t that great either. And what if nobody believed him? What if Pharaoh said no? Could God perhaps send someone else? This was a man who had spent four decades in the desert thinking about his failures and inadequacies. He had arrived at retirement age with a fairly settled conviction that his best days were behind him—if indeed his best days had ever arrived at all.
What we can learn from this is really interesting. When Moses spoke with God, God didn’t try to convince him he was good enough for the job. He didn’t even look at what Moses had done before. All God said was, “I’ll be with you.” That’s all that mattered. It wasn’t about how good Moses was, but about God being with him and giving him the power to do what he needed to do. The story of the burning bush is a great example. It wasn’t about showing off or being popular; it was about God calling Moses to do something and promising to be with him every step of the way. What made Moses qualified for the job wasn’t his own abilities, but God’s promise to work through him. So, when we feel like we’re not good enough or can’t do something, we need to remember that it’s not about us; it’s about God and what he can do through us. We just need to trust that he’ll be with us and give us the power to do what we need to do. That’s the most important thing.
Which brings us back to retirement and to the question that lurks beneath so much of the anxiety retirees carry about purpose and significance: whether they are still useful to God and his kingdom. The question isn’t whether I’m still capable enough; it’s whether I’m still willing and available. Moses, at 80, despite his protests, was available (though reluctantly at first, which is, from a purely human standpoint, totally understandable—Pharaoh? Armies? Deliverance? I’m not sure about that, Lord.) But he showed up at the bush, took off his sandals, listened, obeyed, and went. The sea parted not because Moses was impressive and could blow really hard, but because God was powerfully at work, accomplishing His will through a willing servant.
None of this means every retiree is destined to lead a national deliverance or perform miracles on an international stage. Moses was Moses, and there is only one of him, even though Yul Brynner may have seen three Moseses (interesting plural) when he said “Moses, Moses, Moses” in the classic 1956 film. (By the way, the Pharaoh also never said, “So let it be written, so let it be done,” at least it’s not in the Biblical text. But let’s face it, even the real Pharaoh could have said it better than Yul Brynner if it was true.)
But the principle underlying the story still applies today: God does not cease His purposes for His people when they retire from their careers. The call to faithful service, to generous living, to loving God and neighbor, none of that has an age limit. The specific forms, seasons, and contexts change, as does the available energy at times. But the availability question remains open every morning, regardless of how old you are or how long ago you turned in your security badge. (I once put a picture of Big Bird from Sesame Street on my AT&T security badge just to see how long before my boss, who was a fun guy but a stickler for security, would notice. He did, and it did not go well.)
Earl understands these things and finds them encouraging. He has been retired for a few years and has started serving more in his church and community in the ways he believes God wants him to. He’s also learning to play pickleball. Whether any of this rises to the level of parting seas is, as Dot pointed out, probably not the right comparison. But he showed up and took off his sandals (hummmm….Earl in sandals; he doesn’t even have cartoon feet most of the time), metaphorically speaking. And in the economy of a God who called an 80-year-old shepherd with a stutter to change the course of human and redemptive history, that turns out to be most of the job description.
There is hope for him yet. Dot said so. Earl took it as a compliment. He was right (and wise) to.