Strangers in a Foreign Land: Encountering God at the Burning Bush

Embracing New Beginnings: A Prophetic Journey

The Feast of Tabernacles has always been a season that speaks of dwelling, of remembering how the ancient Hebrews lived in temporary shelters on their way to the promised land. It is a time when I am reminded that life is a journey through a wilderness, not the final destination. In that spirit I stepped into this conference with the phrase New Beginnings resounding in my heart. It felt like passengers clapping on a plane when it lands safely after turbulence — a spontaneous release of gratitude, relief and anticipation. We were not clapping for a pilot; we were celebrating the One who brings us safely into our next season. Being a stranger in a foreign land, a sojourner who refuses to settle into the comfort of captivity, is part of the story God has been writing in my life.

My earliest memories of feeling like an outsider are not dramatic; they are ordinary moments that took on prophetic meaning. One such moment happened when I was a child riding in the back of my father’s station wagon. As we drove down a country road, the back door popped open and I tumbled out onto the gravel. My father slammed on the brakes, ran back and scooped me up. I remember the shock of cold wind on my face, the dust in my mouth and the firm arms that carried me back into safety. For years I looked back on that day with fear, but now I see it as a picture: even when you fall out of the vehicle that is carrying you, the Father will not leave you lying in the road. He runs to you. He lifts you. He straps you back in and says, “You’re stuck with Me.”

That sense of divine connection has never left me. I have found family in people I never expected to know. On a trip to Israel I stood by the dry bed of the Zin River, staring at a bridge that spanned a barren expanse of desert. The scene looked like an illustration of my life: a bridge over nothing, a crossing in a place where there should be water. It was as if God was whispering, “I will make a way where there seems to be no way.” My life does not make natural sense, and I have come to embrace that. The world may call it alien; I call it holy.

When I say alien I do not mean other‑worldly in a science‑fiction sense. I mean that there is something other, something holy, about the call to follow the Most High. There is a tension between my passport and my promise. Scripture gives language to that tension when it tells the story of Moses naming his first son Gershom. The name Gershom sounds like the Hebrew word gur and the ending shom, making his name literally “sojourner there”; Moses chose it because he considered himself an immigrant or sojourner in a foreign land . Moses had grown up with all the privileges of a prince of Egypt, but his heart was never at home in Pharaoh’s palace. He fled to Midian, married a shepherdess and settled into a new life, yet he named his son to remind himself that contentment in exile is not the goal. He felt away from home and could only seek to be “content” in his new home . That story resonates with me. I have lived in cities and nations, dined with royalty and sat with refugees, yet the feeling that I do not quite fit remains.

Sweden and the Tension of Fitting In

A few years ago my family and I lived in Sweden. At first we were guarded and a little uncomfortable. The language was foreign, the weather gray. We would go to the grocery store and fumble through the names of vegetables and retreat to the safety of home. But slowly, we began to fit in. We learned the rhythms of fika, discovered how to ride bikes through snow, and started to forget that we were supposed to be strangers. One day I realized that my heart had become too comfortable. The Lord whispered, reminding me that He does not want me to blend in with the culture around me. There is nothing wrong with loving where you live, but there is a danger in settling into a lifestyle that looks like everyone else’s when you have a divine assignment. New beginnings often start when we shake ourselves awake from complacency.

I believe that each of us has a divine assignment just like every person in Scripture. Abraham was called to leave Ur, a thriving metropolis, to wander toward an unseen land. Mary was visited by an angel and told she would carry the Son of God. Paul was knocked off his horse on the road to Damascus and blinded by light. None of them applied for these tasks. They encountered the Lord and were forever changed. I also believe that there is a key that unlocks destiny. This week the Lord showed me that one of those keys is prayer that propels people from a lifestyle of being a believer into a lifestyle of walking in the destiny of the Lord. Many are called, but few are chosen. The difference often lies in positioning.

Burning Bushes and Wrestling Nights

Consider Moses again. He was a prince of Egypt, saved as an infant and raised in Pharaoh’s court. Yet he carried within him a sense of assignment to deliver his people. When he killed an Egyptian slave master, he was trying to walk out his destiny too early. He fled to the desert and became a shepherd. After forty years of obscurity, he saw a bush that burned without being consumed. He turned aside and encountered the Lord. In that moment, new beginnings thrust him into his calling. God told him to go back to Egypt and deliver a nation. Like Moses, some of us have tried to force destiny by our own strength, only to end up in a wilderness. But the burning bush still calls. New beginnings do not erase your past; they redeem your story.

Jacob experienced a radical new beginning too. His life had been a series of schemes and struggles. One night, as he camped by the River Jabbok, a stranger visited him and they wrestled until daybreak. Jacob’s opponent declared Himself to be God . Jacob clung to this mysterious man and demanded a blessing. In response, the stranger gave him a new name: Israel, which means “he struggles with God” . The man explained that Jacob had struggled with God and with humans and had overcome . Jacob limped for the rest of his life, but he also saw God face to face and received His blessing . Jacob’s wrestling match illustrates the transition from striving to surrender. I see my own story in his. There have been nights when I wrestled with God in prayer, when His presence both wounded and healed me. The limp I carry is a reminder that I cannot outrun grace.

Paul’s Damascus road experience was equally transformative. A zealous Pharisee, he was persecuting followers of Jesus when a light brighter than the midday sun knocked him to the ground. He heard a voice calling his name, was blinded, humbled and then restored through the touch of a man he once sought to arrest. That encounter did more than change Paul’s theology; it realigned his identity. Abraham’s encounter with the angel of the Lord under the oaks of Mamre redefined him from Abram to Abraham. Mary’s visitation propelled her from anonymity into history. These stories remind us that destiny flows out of encountering the Lord, not from striving for recognition.

Surrendering Control

In my view, the biggest challenge to a supernatural encounter with the Lord is being in control of our lives. We live in a culture that values autonomy and personal branding. There is wisdom in planning, but there is also the illusion of control. The greatest victory in the Kingdom looked like the biggest defeat to the apostles. When Jesus hung on the cross, His followers hid in fear. Yet after the resurrection He appeared to them and said, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations … teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” . The cross that looked like defeat became the doorway to the greatest assignment ever given. When you encounter the Lord, you will give up control. The apostles walked with Jesus for three years, but they did not truly see Him until He revealed Himself in resurrection power and infused them with the Holy Spirit.

Being in control prevents you from truly seeing your Savior. You have a destiny, and it will not come about by staying in control. When you lose control, you will see with new eyes. I have discovered that the moments when I felt most broken and dependent were the moments when the Lord could move me into new territory. It is like crossing a bridge in the desert when the river is dry; you cannot control when the water will flow, but you can cross in faith because the bridge is there. When you step onto that bridge, you leave behind the familiarity of the shore and trust that the other side holds a promise.

The Prayer That Propels

There are many kinds of prayer. Some prayers comfort. Some prayers petition. But there is a kind of prayer that propels. It is the prayer of surrender, the prayer that moves you from being a spectator to being a participant. Years ago I attended a small meeting in a rented hall. Only a handful of people were there. We sang a few songs and then someone prayed a simple, dangerous prayer: “Lord, disrupt us. Do whatever it takes to get us into Your will.” As those words left our lips, I felt a shift inside. I realized I had been asking God to bless my plans rather than asking Him to change them. That night became a dividing line in my life. Within weeks I received a call to go to a nation I had never visited. My natural response would have been to decline, but because I had prayed, “Do whatever it takes,” I could not say no. I went, and that trip became a catalyst for the work I now do.

Praying prayers that propel is not about manipulating God; it is about aligning with Him. It is saying, “Position me for Your purposes.” It might mean closing a business to start a ministry, or starting a business to fund missionaries. It might mean leaving a relationship that hinders your growth or reconciling with someone you have avoided. It might mean enrolling in a course, moving to a new city or stepping onto a platform. These prayers propel because they require movement. The Lord rarely answers a prayer for direction while you are stationary. He often answers when you start walking. When Moses turned aside to the burning bush, he heard the voice of God. When Jacob refused to let go of his opponent, he received a new name. When Paul fell to the ground, he heard instruction. When you pray prayers that propel, be prepared to act.

Dry Rivers and Bridges

That bridge over the dry bed of the Zin River continues to speak to me. The desert looked lifeless, cracked and sunbaked. Yet a solid modern bridge spanned the emptiness, built with anticipation that water would return. Sometimes the Lord allows us to see infrastructure before we see provision. He shows us bridges before rivers, roads before cities, scrolls before destinies. Perhaps you are standing on a bridge right now. Your finances are dry, your relationships barren, your ministry dormant. You wonder why God would build a bridge in such a place. He builds bridges as a sign that water is coming. When you see a dry riverbed, do not despair; thank Him for the bridge and prepare for the flood.

Prophetic Declarations for New Beginnings

As I write, I sense the weight of Heaven on these words. This is not merely a teaching; it is a prophetic declaration over your life. Read the following declarations aloud, let them sink into your spirit and agree with them:

1. I declare that new beginnings start tonight. The old season has passed. You do not have to carry the baggage of yesterday into tomorrow.

   
   
   
   

2. I declare that you are divinely connected. The people in your life are not accidents. God has woven you into a tapestry of relationships that will sustain you when you feel like a stranger.

   
   
   
   

3. I declare that you will encounter the Most High. The burning bush will catch your attention. You will turn aside, and He will speak your name.

   
   
   
   

4. I declare that your life will make supernatural sense. Even when circumstances seem random, the Lord is orchestrating your steps. The bridge in your desert is not there by accident.

   
   
   
   

5. I declare that you are moving from being a believer to walking in destiny. You will stop spectating and start participating. You are a carrier of His kingdom.

   
   
   
   

6. I declare that you will surrender control. You will lay down your plans at the feet of Jesus. Losing control is the beginning of seeing with new eyes.

   
   
   
   

7. I declare that you will go and make disciples. You will obey the Great Commission . You will carry His presence into businesses, schools, neighborhoods and nations.

   
   
   
   

Walking It Out

After making declarations, there is a temptation to sit back and wait for fireworks. But new beginnings often start with simple obedience. For me, walking it out has meant telling my story publicly when it would be easier to remain silent. It has meant praying with strangers, sowing financial seeds when my bank account felt empty, repenting when I was wrong and forgiving when I was hurt. It has meant studying Scripture when I could have been entertained and embracing disciplines like fasting and solitude. It has meant celebrating small victories and persevering through setbacks. Simple obedience is the bridge you cross while you wait for the river to flow.

New beginnings also require community. In Sweden, I learned that I cannot fulfill my call alone. I needed brothers and sisters who would remind me that I am a sojourner. Community keeps you accountable and encourages you to stay the course. If you find yourself isolated, ask the Lord to place you in a family. Then be willing to commit. Covenant relationships are not disposable.

Feast of Tabernacles and the Eighth Day

Because this conference is taking place around the Feast of Tabernacles, it feels fitting to linger on its significance. Sukkot, as it is called in Hebrew, is a seven‑day festival where families build booths and live in them to remember how God provided in the wilderness. It is a joyful time of harvest and celebration, but it ends with an added day, Shemini Atzeret, the eighth day. Eight is the number of new beginnings, a step beyond the completeness of seven. Just as circumcision on the eighth day marked a boy’s entry into covenant, the eighth day of Tabernacles invites us into deeper intimacy with God. For believers in Jesus, this feast points to the Word becoming flesh and tabernacling among us. The One who dwelt in a tent in the wilderness now dwells in us. Our new beginnings are not just about moving to a new house or starting a new job; they are about becoming a living tabernacle where Heaven meets earth. As we assemble around the feast, we remember that the booths we build with our hands are fragile, but the dwelling God builds in us is eternal. These celebrations tether us to history and launch us into our prophetic future.

Final Encouragement and Prayer

If you feel like your life does not make natural sense, take heart. You are not supposed to fit into the world’s mold. You are meant to reflect another kingdom. The Father delights in using misfits and outsiders. He took Moses, a fugitive shepherd, and made him a deliverer. He took Jacob, a schemer, and made him Israel. He took Paul, a persecutor, and made him a church planter. He took Mary, a teenage girl, and made her the mother of the Messiah. He took me, a kid who fell out of his father’s station wagon, and is turning my stumbles into sermons. He delights in rewriting our stories and turning our weakest moments into testimonies of His grace. He will do the same for you.

Before you finish reading, take a moment to lift your hands and surrender. Tell the Lord you are tired of controlling everything. Ask Him to encounter you, to reveal your new name, to position you for destiny. Pray with me:

Father, thank You for new beginnings. Thank You that Your mercies are new every morning. Forgive me for clinging to control and settling into comfort. I choose today to turn aside, to wrestle, to surrender. I receive my new name. I step onto the bridge. I yield to Your timing. I embrace my divine assignment. Let my life be a living tabernacle, a dwelling place for Your glory. In Jesus’ name, amen.

As you pray this, believe that Heaven hears. Believe that you are not an orphan but a child of the King. Believe that your story has not been wasted. Believe that new beginnings start now. Now step forward. Much love.