Wednesday of the 15th Week in Ordinary Time

Moses wasn’t out looking for God. He was going about his daily work, leading sheep through the desert. He wasn’t praying for a vision, or preparing for a mission. He was just doing what needed to be done that day. And it’s there—in the middle of the ordinary—that God met him.

He saw a bush on fire. Nothing unusual at first. But it didn’t burn up. That caught his attention. He stopped. He looked more closely. And then God called his name.

There’s something honest about that moment. God didn’t shout from the sky. He used something simple to get Moses to stop, to pay attention. And that’s often how God speaks to us, too. Not through dramatic signs, but through something small that stays with us—a conversation that lingers, a moment in prayer that stirs something, a person’s suffering that we can’t forget. The question is, do we stop? Do we turn aside?

God tells Moses that He has seen His people’s misery. He has heard their cry. He knows their suffering. And He’s ready to act. But He chooses to act through Moses. And Moses, like many of us, says, “Who am I to do this?” But God doesn’t tell him he’s ready or strong enough. He simply says, “I will be with you.”

Those five words say everything about our vocation. Whether we’re teaching, praying, studying, serving, or just showing up for community life, it’s not about how capable we feel. It’s about whether we trust that God is with us. That’s the core of the call. That we are friends in and of the Lord.

In the Gospel, Jesus gives thanks to the Father for revealing His truth not to the powerful or well-educated, but to those who are like little children—open, trusting, ready to receive. And that’s what the spiritual life really asks of us: not to have all the answers, but to stay open. To be humble enough to listen. To recognise that we don’t control the mission. We’re part of it, but it’s God who leads.

Here in Zimbabwe, that invitation is deeply needed. So many of our people carry heavy burdens—young adults who can’t find work, families struggling with food and fuel prices, elders who feel forgotten. It’s easy to wonder, “What can we do?” But the call of Moses still speaks. God is not absent. He sees. He hears. And He still sends. And we, who have offered our lives to Him, are part of that response—not because we’re strong, but because we’re willing.

Our Lady of Mount Carmel shows us what that willingness looks like. Just as the bush burned without being consumed, Mary, our Mother and Patroness of Carmel, lived a life ablaze with God’s presence, yet never consumed by worldly ambition or fear. She lived in profound silence and prayer, pondering God’s word in her heart, and carrying the very fire of God within her. She did not seek attention, but with humble trust, she said an unwavering “yes” to God’s plan, standing with Jesus all the way to the Cross. In her, we see the strength that comes from stillness and trust—a strength that the Carmelite tradition, through the sign of the Scapular, invites us to embrace as we seek to clothe ourselves in her virtues and live in constant communion with Christ.

So maybe today is a day to notice where the ground is already holy under our feet. Where God is already at work. Where the small flame is already burning.

And we might take these questions with us into prayer:

• Where in my daily life might God be inviting me to stop and listen more closely?
• What mission or responsibility have I been avoiding because I feel too small?
• How is God asking me to live more simply, trust more deeply, or love more freely this week?

Let us walk forward not with fear, but with trust. God is already there, waiting.