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Where God Meets Us

The day started in the picturesque, remote town of Sharm El-Sheikh on Egypt’s Sinai Peninsula. I was part of a Holy Land tour with my church and, on that day, we ventured into the desolate wilderness to Mount Sinai itself.

Mount Sinai is also known as Mount Horeb. Horeb literally means “desert” or “desolation” and certainly lives up to its name.

The two-hour bus ride from Sharm El-Sheikh to Mount Sinai was through the most barren, inhospitable, isolated, mountainous desert terrain I had ever experienced. We rarely encountered another vehicle.

Even though I was on a bus with many friends, including my own son, I still felt lonely and keenly aware of how small I really am in this world.

Arriving at Saint Catherine’s Monastery at the mountain base offered little solace. Except for a few attempts at more modern accommodation up the road, we were truly in the middle of nowhere.

In a few hours, we had gone from the luxury modern society offers to palpable isolation.

A short while later, nearly everyone in our group was making the ascent up to Mount Sinai. I could hardly believe I was in the region where Moses met with God.

The hike up the mountain took nearly two hours. As I hiked, there was no discernible breeze, no ambient noise, just a profound silence. The setting was perfect for reflection.

My own journey from the comforts of society to the isolation of the wilderness was vaguely like Moses' experience when he left Egypt.

Moses, a Hebrew by birth, had been raised as Egyptian royalty. He received the best education in the world. He lived a life of luxury. He was surrounded by the best the world had to offer.

Yet, it seems as if he never felt true belonging, knowing deep down he was a Hebrew. It also seems that he had a warped sense of identity and purpose.

Exod. 2:11 tells us, “One day, when Moses had grown up, he went out to his people and looked on their burdens, and he saw an Egyptian beating a Hebrew, one of his people." The text goes on to say that Moses killed the Egyptian and hid his body.

It's impossible to know what was going through Moses’ mind when he decided to kill the Egyptian, but it seems that he likely fancied himself as some kind of savior.

It seems like he expected his Hebrew brothers to welcome him with open arms and be willing to keep his secret. When they did not, Moses realized he was in great danger and fled for his life.

Moses ended up in Midian with Jethro, a priest and shepherd. Over the next 40 years, Moses made many journeys into the wilderness while tending sheep — a vastly different experience from the palaces of Egypt.

His time in the wilderness and his communion there with God had an effect on him. Ellen G. White tells us that Moses’ “pride and self-sufficiency were swept away” and that he “became patient, reverent and humble” (Patriarchs and Prophets, 248.3).

He no longer trusted himself or the greatness of the world. He learned the greatness of God and his own relative insignificance. He was ready for God to use him.

One day on Mount Horeb, God appeared to Moses in a burning bush — see Exod. 3 — with instructions to return to Egypt and lead the Israelites out of slavery. God promised that He would deliver the Israelites from Egypt with a mighty hand and that they would worship on that same mountain. Moses returned to Egypt as instructed, and the rest is history.

As I was hiking there on Mount Sinai, I couldn’t help but wonder at the incredible transformation of Moses in that desolate place. Sinai is desolate in the world’s understanding, but it was there that God met Moses.

In that place, God again impressed me with the importance of retreating from the world to a place where we can hear His voice and commune with Him — a place where God’s greatest work in us is done.

Like Moses, we all need seasons in the wilderness — moments when God draws us away from the noise so we can hear His voice more clearly.

The wilderness isn’t a place of abandonment; it’s where God does His deepest work in us, shaping our hearts for what comes next.

When life feels barren or uncertain, may you find perspective that this may be the very ground where God is preparing you for His purpose.

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Featured in: January/February 2026

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