Imagine standing in a field of dry grass in the Middle East, around 1250 BC. It’s hot, the air is thick with dust, and you’re watching a bush catch fire. You expect the green leaves to turn black, the branches to snap, the whole thing to collapse into ash. But it doesn’t. The flames lick the leaves, but the leaves stay green. The wood doesn’t char. It burns, yet remains intact.
That’s the image that haunts me when I think about goal setting. We treat our ambitions like that bush. We throw fuel on them—our time, our money, our energy—and we wait for them to either blaze brightly or turn to charcoal. We rarely consider the third option: burning without being consumed.
The Lens of History: Why Moses Took Off His Sandals
To understand why this matters for your goals right now, we have to look at where Moses was coming from. He wasn’t a shepherd by choice. He was a prince who ran away. He had killed a man and fled to Midian to hide his shame. For forty years, he worked a job that had nothing to do with his identity. He was invisible.
Then, one day, he turns aside to look at the vision. And he does something strange. He takes off his sandals.
Why? Because the ground he was standing on was holy. In the ancient world, shoes were covered in mud, dung, and filth. To stand barefoot was to admit your smallness. It was to say, “I am not standing on my own power. I am standing on yours.”
This is the first lesson for your own goal setting. How many of you are trying to reach your next milestone while wearing the heavy, muddy boots of your past failures? Or worse, the polished, expensive shoes of your ego? You can’t hear the voice of God in the quiet details of your life if you’re stomping around in your own noise.
I’ll be honest—I’ve struggled with this. There were times in my career where I was so focused on the outcome (the promotion, the praise, the check) that I forgot to remove the sandals. I was standing on the holy ground of opportunity, but I was wearing the footwear of anxiety. I missed the subtle cues because I was too busy staring at the horizon instead of the ground beneath my feet.
The Lens of Scripture: The God Who Speaks in Flames
Let’s look at what the text actually says.
— "The angel of the Lord appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush. When Moses looked, the bush was burning, yet it was not consumed."
Notice the phrasing. It wasn’t just a fire. It was the Angel of the Lord. This is a theophany—a visible manifestation of God. And the medium? Fire.
In the Old Testament, fire is often associated with judgment (Sodom and Gomorrah), but also with presence (the pillar of fire that led Israel through the desert). It’s dual-natured. It purifies, but it also burns.
Moses hears the voice: "I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob." ().
God doesn’t introduce Himself as "The God of the Strong" or "The God of the Successful." He introduces Himself as the God of the Patriarchs. The God of promises. The God who has been waiting.
This shifts the perspective. Your goals aren’t just about what you want to achieve. They’re about how you’re participating in a larger narrative. Are you aligned with the character of the One who speaks in the fire? Is your ambition rooted in covenant loyalty, or is it rooted in personal insecurity?
There’s a tension here that’s easy to miss. The bush burns, yet remains unscathed. This implies sustainability. A normal fire consumes its fuel source. A burning bush that lasts suggests a self-renewing energy source. In spiritual terms, this points to the Holy Spirit. The fire is the external manifestation, but the sustenance comes from within.
For goal setting, this is critical. If your goals are fueled solely by external validation (fuel), they will eventually burn out. You’ll hit a wall. But if your goals are fueled by an internal connection to your purpose (spirit), they can sustain themselves even when the external circumstances are harsh.
The Lens of Application: How to Build a Fire That Lasts
, specifically, as you head into this new season? It’s autumn. The leaves are changing. It’s a time of harvest, yes, but also of preparation. The ground is cooling.
Here is the practical takeaway. I don’t want to give you a vague platitude like "trust God more." I want you to do something specific.
Practice: The "Burning Bush" Audit.
Take a piece of paper. Divide it into two columns.
Column 1: The Fuel. List the specific things you are currently pouring into your biggest goal. Be brutally honest. Is it your sleep? Is it your relationship with your spouse? Is it your health? Is it your joy? Write down exactly what is being consumed.
Column 2: The Source. Now, ask yourself: Where is the energy coming from to keep the fire going? If you remove the fuel from Column 1, does the flame die? If yes, your goal is unsustainable. It’s a bonfire, not a hearth.
If the answer is yes, you need to identify the "Source." For me, this meant realizing I was running on adrenaline and fear of failure. That’s not a sustainable energy source. Adrenaline spikes and crashes. Fear is exhausting.
My shift was to move from burning out to burning bright. I started protecting my sleep. I started saying no to smaller tasks to protect the larger vision. I stopped staring at the result and started focusing on the process.
Think about it. A campfire is great for a night. It’s warm, it’s bright, people gather around it. But you can’t live by it. It goes out in the morning. A hearth fire, though? That’s different. You feed it steadily. You tend it. It provides warmth for the whole house. It doesn’t roar; it glows.
Your goals should be a hearth, not a campfire.
This season, as you set your sights on new routines and new starts, ask yourself: Am I building a campfire, or a hearth? Am I consuming my life to feed my ambition, or is my ambition being sustained by a deeper, spiritual source?
Remove the sandals. Listen to the voice in the flame. And build a fire that doesn’t just burn—it endures.
