Called Anyway
There’s a moment in the book of Jeremiah that haunts and heals at the same time. God calls the prophet and Jeremiah answers, not with excitement, but with fear.
"Ah, Lord GOD!" he says, "I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy."
And God replies, “Do not say, ‘I am only…’”
That’s where many of us begin disqualifying ourselves.
I’m only a beginner.
I’m only human.
I’m only one voice.
I’m only… not good enough.
But God never calls the qualified. God qualifies the called.
Moses stuttered.
Amos was a farmer.
Peter was impulsive.
Mary Magdalene was dismissed.
And Jeremiah, he was just a kid, yet he still stood before kings.
We live in a time when the world, and even the church, often expects polish instead of presence. But relevance doesn’t come from perfection, it comes from truth. And prophetic authority isn’t earned by applause, but by proximity to God and solidarity with the people.
Some of our wisest voices have reminded us that the task of the preacher is not to protect the comfortable, but to "utter the otherwise" to speak what the world cannot say for itself, but longs to hear. Not because we are brave, but because God is with us. That voice still echoes.
To every pastor who’s ever felt unqualified:
You don’t have to be flawless to be faithful.
You don’t have to be confident to be courageous.
And you don’t have to be powerful to be prophetic.
You just have to show up.
Stand up.
Speak up.
Even when your voice trembles.
Because God is still whispering through imperfect mouths.
Still choosing those who others overlook.
Still sending people like you and me.
And saying, “Do not be afraid, for
I am with you… and I will give you the words.”
Amen.
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