Speaking of Life 5041│Christ, Conqueror of My Soul
This week we’re sharing a Speaking of Life message from our archive as a supplemental resource. We encourage you to use this for reflection and preparation, or small group discussion. For your worship gathering, consider how a call to worship from a local voice or contextualized introduction to the theme might serve your congregation well.
Watch video on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZ0RAtFW7JI
Program Transcript
Speaking of Life 5041│Christ, Conqueror of My Soul
Cara Garrity
The English poet, William Ernest Henley, was an avowed atheist. You might recognize his name from his famous poem entitled, “Invictus.” Invictus is Latin for “Unconquered.”
Several generations of high school and college students have had this poem quoted to them at their graduation ceremonies around the world.
The last line of this poem boasts this:
It matters not how strait the gait,
how charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.1
Many have risen to their feet with applause upon hearing this inspiring declaration. I wonder how these words fall on your ears. Do they make you want to go out and conquer the world?
While we mortal beings do possess great power and can achieve a great many things, are we truly the masters of our own fate, the captains of our own souls?
In his gospel, Matthew records Jesus’ stinging rebuke to one of his closest disciples. After hearing from Jesus that he was going to suffer and die, Peter challenged Jesus to be the master of his own fate, the captain of his soul.
Jesus stopped that train of thought and informed Peter in no uncertain terms that he didn’t have the things of God in mind. Following those words, Jesus clarifies where true life is found – by following him.
Then Jesus said to his disciples, “whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it. What good will it do for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul?”
Matthew 16:24-26
Jesus makes it clear to his disciples, and to us, that as his followers, we must die to our self-will. Entering into life with Christ, opens us to experience his love and the greater reality of his kingdom. Captived by Christ we realize that our longings and desires are met through participating with him in drawing humanity into the Father’s loving embrace. We trade our self-generated ideas of glory in for giving him the glory trusting he is working for our good.
We must die to the very idea of being the masters of our own destinies. Someone else is in charge, and that someone is Jesus. He is the One who entered into our suffering, conquered our souls with the Father’s love, and who through the leading of the Holy Spirit brings us into a destiny that is far greater than one who we could ask for or imagine.
In response to Henley’s “Invictus”, Dorothy Day penned her poem, entitled “Conquered”. The opening line states:
Out of the light that dazzles me,
bright as the sun from pole to pole,
I thank the God I know to be,
for Christ-the conqueror of my soul.2
Captivated by Christ may you trade your self will for the glorious destiny he has in store for all of humanity.
I’m Cara Garrity, Speaking of Life.
Program Transcript
Speaking of Life 5041│Christ, Conqueror of My Soul
Cara Garrity
The English poet, William Ernest Henley, was an avowed atheist. You might recognize his name from his famous poem entitled, “Invictus.” Invictus is Latin for “Unconquered.”
Several generations of high school and college students have had this poem quoted to them at their graduation ceremonies around the world.
The last line of this poem boasts this:
It matters not how strait the gait,
how charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate,
I am the captain of my soul.1
Many have risen to their feet with applause upon hearing this inspiring declaration. I wonder how these words fall on your ears. Do they make you want to go out and conquer the world?
While we mortal beings do possess great power and can achieve a great many things, are we truly the masters of our own fate, the captains of our own souls?
In his gospel, Matthew records Jesus’ stinging rebuke to one of his closest disciples. After hearing from Jesus that he was going to suffer and die, Peter challenged Jesus to be the master of his own fate, the captain of his soul.
Jesus stopped that train of thought and informed Peter in no uncertain terms that he didn’t have the things of God in mind. Following those words, Jesus clarifies where true life is found – by following him.
Then Jesus said to his disciples, “whoever wants to be my disciple must deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it. What good will it do for someone to gain the whole world, yet forfeit their soul? Or what can anyone give in exchange for their soul?”
Matthew 16:24-26
Jesus makes it clear to his disciples, and to us, that as his followers, we must die to our self-will. Entering into life with Christ, opens us to experience his love and the greater reality of his kingdom. Captived by Christ we realize that our longings and desires are met through participating with him in drawing humanity into the Father’s loving embrace. We trade our self-generated ideas of glory in for giving him the glory trusting he is working for our good.
We must die to the very idea of being the masters of our own destinies. Someone else is in charge, and that someone is Jesus. He is the One who entered into our suffering, conquered our souls with the Father’s love, and who through the leading of the Holy Spirit brings us into a destiny that is far greater than one who we could ask for or imagine.
In response to Henley’s “Invictus”, Dorothy Day penned her poem, entitled “Conquered”. The opening line states:
Out of the light that dazzles me,
bright as the sun from pole to pole,
I thank the God I know to be,
for Christ-the conqueror of my soul.2
Captivated by Christ may you trade your self will for the glorious destiny he has in store for all of humanity.
I’m Cara Garrity, Speaking of Life.
Psalm 105:1-6, 23-26, 45b • Exodus 3:1–15 • Romans 12:9–21 • Matthew 16:21–28
This week’s theme is God comes down. In our call to worship psalm, the psalmist calls God’s people to remember the Lord’s saving acts and respond with faithful love. In Exodus, God calls Moses at the burning bush to risk himself in love by leading Israel out of oppression. In Romans, Paul describes a community whose genuine love overcomes evil with good even when it is costly. And in Matthew’s gospel, Jesus walks the way of the cross and calls His disciples to follow Him in self-denying, costly love.
Reminder: This introductory paragraph is intended to show how the four RCL selections for this week are connected and to assist the preacher prepare the sermon. It is not intended to be included in the sermon.
How to use this sermon resource.
God Comes Down
Exodus 3:1–15 NIV
[Read or ask someone to read the passage.]
Now Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian, and he led the flock to the far side of the wilderness and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. 2 There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush. Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. 3 So Moses thought, “I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up.”
4 When the Lord saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, “Moses! Moses!”
And Moses said, “Here I am.”
5 “Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” 6 Then he said, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob.” At this, Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God.
7 The Lord said, “I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering. 8 So I have come down to rescue them from the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey—the home of the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Hivites and Jebusites. 9 And now the cry of the Israelites has reached me, and I have seen the way the Egyptians are oppressing them. 10 So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt.”
11 But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?”
12 And God said, “I will be with you. And this will be the sign to you that it is I who have sent you: When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God on this mountain.”
13 Moses said to God, “Suppose I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ Then what shall I tell them?”
14 God said to Moses, “I am who I am. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘I am has sent me to you.’”
15 God also said to Moses, “Say to the Israelites, ‘The Lord, the God of your fathers—the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob—has sent me to you.’
“This is my name forever,
the name you shall call me
from generation to generation. Exodus 3:1–15 NIV
Last Sunday, we saw Israel, the people of God’s promise, move from welcomed guests in Egypt to tortured slaves under an evil Pharaoh, the king of Egypt. God made a promise to bless Isreal. But here they are experiencing slavery and genocide. Pharoah has ordered all baby boys be killed.
There were no miracles. No prophets or messengers from God. No words from heaven. To an onlooker, God appears nowhere in the story.
But we have the benefit of knowing the end of the story. And when we look back from the end, we see that from the beginning, God was there — in his people. He refuses to be God without us. He doesn’t need us but he invites us to join the work of his saving mission.
Though Isreal was suffering, God’s rescue was already unfolding in ways that were not always visible. Through ordinary people — the midwives, a mother and her daughter, and even Pharaoh’s own daughter — God preserved life and protected a baby named, Moses. Moses was the one God would lead to bring his people out of slavery in Egypt.
This passage reminds us that even when God seems absent or silent, he is actively at work bringing about rescue. Though they cannot yet see it, the deliverance Israel is longing for has already begun.
This example matters for us today. We may not be enslaved in Egypt, but we probably have seasons when God seems absent. Like Israel, we know what it is like to feel trapped by circumstances beyond our control. Some carry grief that has not lifted. Some struggle with illness that has not gone away. Others wrestle with loneliness, anxiety, addiction, family conflict, financial pressures, or disappointments that seem to have no end.
There are moments when we can wonder whether God sees what is happening, whether he hears our cries, whether he knows what we are carrying. We find ourselves asking the same question the Israelites must have asked: Where is God in all of this?
That is precisely the question lingering in the tension going into Exodus 3.
And Exodus 3 answers that question in a beautiful way. It reveals that the God who seems absent is often closer than we realize. More than that, it reveals that our God is not a distant observer of human suffering. Instead, God comes down.
When the story opens in Exodus 3, Moses is now eighty years old. He’s no longer in the palace; he’s a fugitive tending sheep a long way from Egypt. When we left Moses last week, he was a toddler. His mother cared for him until he was probably three or four years old. Then he was considered old enough to be brought into the princess’ household. Adopted by the king’s daughter, Moses had enjoyed all the privilege of growing up in the palace.
So how did he end up here?
Why not read the section between where we left off last Sunday and where we begin today? It’s Exodus 2:11–25. Since we are spending nine Sundays preaching in the book of Exodus, this is an excellent time to study Exodus at home, in your connect group, or over coffee with friends and neighbors.
As an adult, Moses witnessed a slave, one of his own people, being beaten by an Egyptian. Moses killed the Egyptian. When Pharaoh found out, he wanted to have Moses killed. So, Moses fled into the wilderness.
Have you ever looked at your own life and also wondered, “How did I end up here?” You’ll see from Moses’ story that you can never get so far “off track” that God would abandon you. God is near to you. God comes down.
Year after year, Moses has lived a quiet life on the far side of the wilderness. Moses is not searching for God. He is simply tending a flock.
Yet that is exactly where God meets him. Verse 1–3:
Now Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian, and he led the flock to the far side of the wilderness and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. 2 There the angel of the Lord appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush. Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. 3 So Moses thought, “I will go over and see this strange sight—why the bush does not burn up.”
The miracle was not the bush, but the presence of God. Incredibly, the fire did not destroy what it filled.
Throughout Scripture, fire and smoke often symbolizes the presence of God. God’s holiness burns brightly, and his glory shines. God’s life is powerful and pure. In the burning bush, God draws near without destroying. We see a glimpse of God’s character. He is holy, yet he is not hostile. He comes near without harming.
Verse 4:
4 When the Lord saw that he had gone over to look, God called to him from within the bush, “Moses! Moses!”
And Moses said, “Here I am.”
God calls him by name. This is deeply personal. The God who created the heavens and the earth knows Moses. God knows his history, every disappointment, and every regret. God knows his mistakes and the shame that Moses likely has carried after killing the Egyptian.
Yet God came near and called to Moses anyway.
The same is true for us. God knows your name and your story because God is a relational God. God is a family that he has included us into. The Father, his Son Christ Jesus, and the Holy Spirit share a perfect, harmonious relationship, each unselfishly centering and giving to the other. By the Spirit, Jesus shares the relationship he has with his Father with us!
Verse 5–6:
5 “Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” 6 Then he said, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob.” At this, Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God.
This is a needed reminder for us: God is intimately near to us but also holy. Our culture often struggles to hold these two concepts together. Some imagine God as distant, uninvolved, easily ignored. Others imagine God as familiar, like a spiritual buddy who exists to support our goals. The God of Exodus allows for neither.
God is near enough to know Moses by name, yet holy enough that Moses removes his sandals. God is relational, yet not manageable. He is loving, yet not tame. The holiness of God means he is utterly unique. He is not merely a bigger version of ourselves. He is the Creator, life, and goodness itself. He is the Holy One.
The remarkable thing is that this holy God draws near. God comes down.
Then comes the heart of the passage. God begins to reveal what has been happening all along. Verses 7–9:
7 The Lord said, “I have indeed seen the misery of my people in Egypt. I have heard them crying out because of their slave drivers, and I am concerned about their suffering. 8 So I have come down to rescue them from the hand of the Egyptians and to bring them up out of that land into a good and spacious land, a land flowing with milk and honey—the home of the Canaanites, Hittites, Amorites, Perizzites, Hivites and Jebusites. 9 And now the cry of the Israelites has reached me, and I have seen the way the Egyptians are oppressing them.
God says, “I have seen.” “I have heard.” “I am concerned.” This is not a distant deity scrolling through our pain like a news feed. This is the everlasting promise-keeping Lord who has bound himself to a people and refuses to look away.
For generations, the people have suffered. Their cries have risen into the air. Their pain seemed unanswered. Yet now God reveals that none of it has been hidden from him. God is aware of every injustice, every cry, every sorrow, and he is “concerned.” He is moved to compassion and moved to act.
So, God has come down to rescue.
Verse 10:
“So now, go. I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt.”
So now, go. God said, “I have come down to rescue … so now, go. I am sending you …” God is a sending God. We are “sent” people. God sends us out into the world to participate in his mission of restoring, renewing, and redeeming creation.
What is Moses’ response to being sent? Verses 11–12:
11 But Moses said to God, “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?”
12 And God said, “I will be with you. And this will be the sign to you that it is I who have sent you: When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God on this mountain.”
“Who am I?”
Moses remembers the mistakes that drove him into exile. We can understand his question. How often do we feel this way?
We may wonder why God would send us to our neighbors as signs of his kingdom. What do we have to offer or contribute?
God’s response to our doubt is the same he gave to Moses. “I will be with you.”
Of course, we have limitations, like Moses. But God is with us. Our hope is never grounded in our own ability, faithfulness, or strength. Our hope rests in the God. God comes down.
Finally, Moses asks God’s name.
13 Moses said to God, “Suppose I go to the Israelites and say to them, ‘The God of your fathers has sent me to you,’ and they ask me, ‘What is his name?’ Then what shall I tell them?”
14 God said to Moses, “I am who I am. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘I am has sent me to you.’”
15 God also said to Moses, “Say to the Israelites, ‘The Lord, the God of your fathers—the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob—has sent me to you.’
“This is my name forever,
the name you shall call me
from generation to generation.
God answers, “I AM WHO I AM.” God exists in and of himself. God is not created, dependent, or derived from anything else. God profoundly simply is and gives existence to everything. The Creator cannot be named or defined by his creation.
Then God calls himself the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. This grounds God’s identity in history and promise. The last two Sundays, we learned about God’s promise to Abraham and his family. That family grew into the nation of Isreal. God promised to bless them, be their God, and make them a great nation.
By naming Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, it’s as if God is saying, “I am the same God who made those promises to your forefathers, that covenant includes you, and I keep my promises.”
Centuries later, Jesus says, “Before Abraham was, I am” (John 8:58). Jesus revealed that he is divine, the Son of God and the same God of the burning bush. The One who came down to rescue Israel is the One who comes down to rescue the world.
Because here’s the good news. Father, Son, and Spirit’s blessing did not stop with Isreal. God promised that through Abraham’s family all nations would be blessed. The promise to Abraham always pointed toward God’s intention to bless all creation.
And through Jesus, God has done just that.
The Father sent his Son to be born of a human virgin. God comes down — this is the Incarnation. Fully God and fully human, Jesus lived a life without sin by the Spirit.
Jesus lived the faithful life we could not live and carried our sin to the cross. He united himself to us in his death, resurrection, and ascension back to the Father. So, Jesus’ death, resurrection, and ascension are also our death, resurrection, and ascension! And the life he shares with his Father, is also ours, by the Spirit.
This is our rescue!
God has rescued us.
God is rescuing us. Moment by moment, he shares his life with us by the Spirit. The Holy Spirit lives in us and comforts, helps, and guides us. The Spirit is God’s personal presence in us. The Spirit opens our eyes to know God and equips us to “go.” The Spirit produces his fruit in us (Galatians 5), growing us in holiness, and conforming us to the image of Christ.
God will rescue us. God’s rescue will come to completion when he comes again and there will be no more suffering. When Christ returns, he will set everything right. Evil will be judged, the dead will be raised, and creation itself will be renewed. And in that new creation, there will be no more death, pain, or sorrow, because the God who came down has come to dwell with his people forever.
We recognize God’s faithfulness most clearly when we look back or when we know the end of the story. Well, this is our ending: everything that causes suffering will be finally defeated.
The Israelites could not yet see their escape from slavery. Moses could not yet imagine himself leading the Israelites out of Egypt. But God had already set in motion their rescue.
The same is true for us. We may not yet see how God is at work. But the God revealed at the burning bush and in Jesus Christ is not absent. That is good news worth trusting.
God sees, hears, knows, and has compassion. God rescues us.
God comes down.
Small Group Discussion Questions
- Where do you most identify with Israel’s experience of feeling unseen or unheard by God?
- Moses responds to God’s call with “Who am I?” Do insecurity or past failures make it hard for you to step into what God might be calling you to do?
- God’s answer to Moses is “I will be with you.” How does God’s presence (rather than your ability) change the way you think about obedience or mission?
- “God comes down” is a central theme — from the burning bush to Jesus’ Incarnation. How does seeing God as one who moves toward us in love and rescue impact your trust in him during difficult seasons?





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