Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the children of Israel out of Egypt? (Exodus 3:11).
“You must learn the ways of the Force, if you’re to come with me to Alderaan,” invites Obi-Wan Kenobi to Luke Skywalker in one of the opening scenes of Star Wars. Luke replies, “Alderaan? I’m not going to Alderaan, I’ve gotta get home, it’s late, I’m in for it as it is!”
When Gandalf the wizard knocks on the door of Bilbo Baggins, with a dozen dwarves trailing behind, to sweep the hobbit up in a grand adventure, Bilbo couldn’t be more irritated by the interruption.
The refusal of the call.
It’s a standard element of every adventure story. The hero refuses the invitation to the journey. Harry Potter doesn’t want to be the chosen one. Jake doesn’t want to save Pandora.
The refusal of the call.
Now imagine you’re Moses. Forty years as a simple desert shepherd. Egyptian royalty is a thing of the past. Something you were, not what are. And suddenly a burning spectacle. Imagine waking up the next morning. Did that really happen?
To what is God inviting you?
Maybe it’s to start a business. Maybe it’s to take your engineering skills to bring clean water to rural villages of Honduras. Maybe it’s to serve refugees in Thailand. Maybe it’s to teach English in Ghana. Maybe it’s to be a social worker in west Tulsa.
Maybe you’ll give a TED talk. Maybe you’ll write a New York Times bestseller. Maybe your photographs will be featured in National Geographic. Maybe you’ll change the way the whole world thinks about journalism, media, storytelling, the internet, economics, graphic design.
G.K. Chesterton has said, “An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is an adventure wrongly considered.”
God is about to do something awesome. He’s letting you in on it. What do you do?
Whatever excuse you dream up, it’s not bigger than God.
But I will be WITH you (3:12).
Fiftyeight 
