Exodus 2:11-14
11 And it came to pass in those days, when Moses was grown, that he went out unto his brethren, and looked on their burdens: and he spied an Egyptian smiting an Hebrew, one of his brethren.
12 And he looked this way and that way, and when he saw that there was no man, he slew the Egyptian, and hid him in the sand.
13 And when he went out the second day, behold, two men of the Hebrews strove together: and he said to him that did the wrong, Wherefore smitest thou thy fellow?
14 And he said, Who made thee a prince and a judge over us? intendest thou to kill me, as thou killedst the Egyptian? And Moses feared, and said, Surely this thing is known.
According to Exodus 2:12, Moses hid the body of the slain Egyptian. But by the next day, it was all over the papers. They found the Egyptian. Five inches of loose sand hid nothing.
Hiding wrong, Moses now had to admit, does nothing to erase wrong. And I am convinced that from that moment on Moses determined never to hide anything again. He would be transparent. He would speak his heart, regardless of the risks of vulnerability. He would no longer hide.
Sometime in my ministry, I am going to gather up enough courage to have a testimony time where the only thing we’ll share is our failures. Wouldn’t that be different? Ever been to a testimony meeting where everybody else seemed to be on Cloud 39, and you were in Tunnel Number 7? One after another is talking about soaring in the heavenlies, while you’re counting gum wrappers in the gutter. Why don’t we visit the other side? Why not hand the microphone around and say, “When was the last time you took a nosedive? Can you share with others what it was like to experience a major disappointment?”
Far from being a downer, I’ve got a hunch that might prove to be a major encouragement to a group of people who feel all alone in their struggles. So many of us feel as though we have to hide our failures, believing no one else could have possibly failed as we have. Some are even afraid to tell God about it, fearing He might be as put off as we imagine others will be.
But He isn’t like that at all, is He? When we take a tumble and cry out to Him in our shame and our distress, the psalmist says He “inclines His ear” to us. He bends over to listen. We say “Oh, Father, I’ve failed! I’ve failed terribly. Look at what I’ve done!” It is then He puts His arms around us, just as a loving earthly father would do. He then says, “I accept you just as you are. I agree that what you have done was wrong, as you’ve confessed it to Me. Now, My son, My daughter, let’s move on.”
— Charles R. Swindoll
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