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The other day, I was listening to a powerful message about Moses and his struggle with what the minister called a dual consciousness. W.E.B. Du Bois’s concept of “double consciousness” is one of the most famous ideas in African American intellectual history. He first wrote about it in his 1903 classic The Souls of Black Folk, using it to explain the unique psychological challenges faced by Black Americans in our society.
At its core, double consciousness is the feeling of looking at yourself through two sets of eyes—your own, and the eyes of a dominant, often hostile, society.
The truth is, we all wrestle with some form of identity split. For some, it’s not just double consciousness — it’s triple, even quintuple layers of awareness. An older woman may see herself as a whole human being with dreams, talents, faith, and personal goals, yet remain constantly aware of the ticking of a biological clock and the weight of societal stereotypes that devalue her if she does not become a mother or a wife.
Likewise, a man may grapple with the call to be a husband, the pull of his sexual desires, and his drive for professional success — all while navigating how society measures his worth based on the presence or absence of money..
It really struck a chord with me, because Moses’ journey is far more complex than just a dramatic showdown with Pharaoh.
It really let's you understand that God is a strategist. Did Pharaoh’s Pride Cause Him To Fall?
Moses was born in Egypt during a time when this Pharaoh feared the growing number of Israelites. Pharaoh ordered that all Hebrew baby boys be killed at birth.
Moses’ mother, Jochebed, refused to let that happen. She hid him for three months and then placed him in a waterproof basket in the Nile River, trusting God to protect him. Pharaoh’s daughter discovered the baby in the river and took pity on him. She named him Moses (meaning “drawn out of the water”) and raised him as her own.
I often wondered why didn't they just leave the country.
Raised as an Egyptian prince, schooled in their language, trained in their politics, and familiar with the ways of power gave him an advantage. Yet, he also carried the skin, bloodline, and heritage of a Hebrew, a people enslaved and oppressed. This gave Pharoah an advantage because now he has insight into the people he desires to control.
This gave Moses an unusual upbringing: born a Hebrew slave, yet raised in Egyptian royalty, with access to education and privilege.
That internal conflict, that tug-of-war between two identities, may have been what drove him to kill the Egyptian and bury the body, after he saw an Egyptian beating a fellow Hebrew slave.
And while he was raised as a son in the palace, Moses was still forced to flee to Midian to save his own life, once Pharaoh learned of this. What a wake up call this must have been for Moses.
Interestingly, Moses then spends 40 years in the wilderness of Midian. Now I am understanding that the Israelites season of wilderness was not unfamiliar territory. Because the idea of a 40-year wilderness wasn’t new to Moses, and perhaps he didn’t see it as the punishment or setback we often imagine today, but rather as a place of reset, preparation, and transformation.
The Israelites were such a tough people maybe not going with them into the promise land wasn't so bad after all for Moses.
Now if you're ever had to wrestle with this idea of a dual or double consciousness, you probably understood what Moses encountered while in the palace. It's a mix of opportunity, resilience, and constant navigation of unspoken rules. It can be exhausting.
There’s the official job you were hired for — your title, responsibilities, and deliverables.
Then there’s the unofficial responsibility he had to take on without choice: representing “diversity,” educating others about his racial issues, and proving (again and again) that you belong in the room.
I am sure he felt pressure to adjust speech, tone, style, and even hair just to fit in or avoid bias. Then as he grew older he wrestled with the idea of inauthenticity because what he had become now didn't reconcile with who he should have been based upon his people — it’s survival. Which often makes others think you don't deserve it.
I'm sure some of Moses family wish it had been them. And felt Moses didn't deserve to be in the palace. Maybe they thought it should have been Aaron. Therefore, they were doing things underhanded to see that Moses failed.
You learn which version of yourself is “safe” for the boardroom and which parts you tuck away. There's a need to prove yourself twice and sometimes triple.
I wondered if it was because Moses was a Hebrew that he felt his mistakes were magnified. Or that he feared consequences because of who he was. When he returns to Egypt Pharaoh never addresses his mishap.
A symptoms of a dual consciousness comes from missteps being remembered longer or judged harsher than your peers. Its gives you a sense that you are suppose to be perfect. Meanwhile, when others make mistakes its quickly forgiven.
As a result, many overprepare, overdeliver, and overwork to make sure their competence can’t be questioned. You become a accomplishment driven.
Perhaps this is why Moses insists he “cannot speak,” even though we see no evidence of any real inability. It may not have been about skill at all, but about the weight of identity and the pressures he carried. Aaron, fully Hebrew,
----didn’t wrestle with the same internal conflict — he spoke freely, unburdened by the dual pressures Moses faced.
The higher you rise, the fewer people who look like you. Being the “only one” in meetings or leadership teams can feel lonely, especially when you’re expected to speak for all of your people rather than just yourself.
Moses felt both the weight and the unspoken role of this heavy bias. Think about it - it’s often coined as microaggressions.
Ignoring your ideas or stealing them as their own. When God sent Moses to confront Pharaoh, the confrontation wasn’t just political — it was deeply representative of this dual consciousness.
Moses didn’t come empty-handed. God equipped him with miraculous signs to prove that He was the chosen vessel.
Yet when Moses threw down his staff and it became a serpent, Pharaoh’s magicians imitated it with their secret arts. Even when Moses’ serpent swallowed theirs, Pharaoh dismissed it. He treated God’s power through Moses like just another trick.
So rewinding back to his time in Midian, it might be surprising to some, but Moses became settled as a shepherd. He gets married to Zipporah, the daughter of Jethro, a priest of Midian. And he's living what one might consider a quiet life. I am sure he is feeling great because he's far away from Egypt’s power and politics.
And it wasn't considered wasted time. It became training. Jethro was more than just a father-in-law; he was a mentor, a spiritual guide, and a leader in both religious and political matters. In African and ancient Near Eastern cultures, priests weren’t only concerned with rituals — they were also prophets, advisors, and counselors to rulers. Their influence often shaped the destiny of their nation.
And here’s where God gets strategic: one day, while tending sheep, Moses saw a bush on fire that was not burning up. From the bush, God spoke to him, revealing His plan to deliver Israel from slavery. God commanded Moses to return to Egypt and confront Pharaoh, with the promise that He would give Moses the words and power to lead.
Moses’ burning bush encounter was his call to action, but it didn’t immediately turn him into a political ruler. Instead, God sent him back to Egypt within the system he had once been part of. Moses didn’t seize the throne in the traditional sense — he became a ruler in the hearts and minds of his people through trust and visible demonstrations of God’s power.
Moses, with his brother Aaron, demanded that Pharaoh let the Israelites go. Pharaoh refused, and Egypt was struck.
At first, Pharaoh still sat on the throne as Israel's King. But with every plague, every miracle, and every negotiation, Moses’ authority over the Israelites grew stronger. Was this happenchance? I think not!
By the time they left Egypt, Pharaoh might have held the title of king, but Moses was already functioning as the true leader of the Hebrew nation. His kingship wasn’t established by royal decree, but by divine calling, proven leadership, and the people’s recognition that he was God’s chosen deliverer.
The brilliance of Moses’ rise was that it happened right under Pharaoh’s nose. His leadership didn’t begin when the Red Sea parted — it began in the moments where he confronted Pharaoh with God’s word, stood unshaken before earthly power, and inspired his people to believe in God’s deliverance.
Moses’ journey teaches us that sometimes leadership isn’t seized — it’s cultivated through tested, even humiliation, and being stuck until it is recognized over time.
Ironically, it started in the wilderness, under mentorship, and in obscurity. It involved wrestling with identity. But when God calls you to something, He positions you strategically so that when the moment comes, you’re not just a voice — you’re the ruler and trusted by those you’re called to lead.
So, what’s your burning bush moment? And are you willing to go through your wilderness, the mentorship, and the preparation so that when God elevates you, your leadership is undeniable?
Xoxo,
Dr. Jordan, CEO
