On Second Thought
“And Moses said unto God, Who am I, that I should go unto Pharaoh, and that I should bring forth the children of Israel out of Egypt?”
—Exodus 3:11
There is something arresting about the people God chooses to speak for Him. They are rarely standing at the front of a line, announcing their qualifications and demanding an assignment. More often, they are hiding, working, grieving, doubting, or quietly minding their own business when the voice of God interrupts their plans. Moses was tending sheep in Midian when the burning bush became the place of his calling. He had once tried to defend an Israelite by his own strength, but that effort ended in failure and exile. By the time God called him, Moses no longer believed he was the obvious man for the job.
His first response was not, “At last, God has recognized my potential.” He asked, “Who am I?” That question revealed humility, but it also exposed fear. Moses knew Pharaoh’s power, remembered his own past, and understood the enormity of leading an enslaved people into freedom. He saw the assignment through the lens of his inadequacy. God answered by redirecting his attention: “Certainly I will be with thee” (Exodus 3:12). The decisive issue was not who Moses was, but who would accompany him.
This pattern appears throughout Scripture. Gideon was hiding from Midian when the angel called him a mighty man of valor. Jeremiah protested that he was too young and did not know how to speak. Isaiah, after seeing the holiness of God, confessed that he was a man of unclean lips. Amos insisted that he was neither a prophet nor the son of a prophet, but a herdsman whom the Lord took from following the flock. Jonah did not merely hesitate; he fled in the opposite direction. These men did not regard speaking for God as an attractive platform. They felt the weight of carrying a word that did not belong to them.
That reluctance does not mean every hesitant person is called, nor does eagerness automatically disqualify someone. Scripture does, however, warn us against ambition that outruns spiritual formation. James writes, “My brethren, be not many masters, knowing that we shall receive the greater condemnation” (James 3:1). Teaching Scripture is not simply an opportunity to be heard. It is a stewardship for which the speaker remains accountable to God.
The true servant does not invent the message, soften it for approval, or use it to enlarge himself. Paul described gospel ministry by saying, “We preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus the Lord; and ourselves your servants for Jesus’ sake” (2 Corinthians 4:5). The minister is not the light but a witness to the Light. He is not the Shepherd but one entrusted with part of the flock. He is not the source of truth but a servant responsible for handling it faithfully.
Every Christian is called to witness, serve, show mercy, practice generosity, and speak the truth in love. Not every Christian, however, is called to the same public ministry. Paul asked, “Are all apostles? are all prophets? are all teachers?” (1 Corinthians 12:29). The expected answer is no. The Spirit distributes gifts according to His wisdom, not according to our desire for recognition. The church needs compassionate servants in countless forms, but it also needs Spirit-enabled voices capable of hearing the Word of God, understanding it faithfully, and communicating it clearly to human hearts.
A genuine call is therefore not merely an attraction to preaching, a love of public speaking, or admiration for respected leaders. It includes divine compulsion, biblical qualification, spiritual gifting, tested character, and recognition within the body of Christ. Paul could say, “Necessity is laid upon me; yea, woe is unto me, if I preach not the gospel!” (1 Corinthians 9:16). He did not speak because ministry offered status. He spoke because the risen Christ had taken hold of him.
The danger is not only that uncalled people may rush toward ministry. Called people may also spend years running from it. Fear can disguise itself as humility. Moses repeatedly named his weaknesses, but eventually the Lord became angry because reluctance had begun to harden into resistance. There comes a point when “Who am I?” must yield to “If God is with me, I will go.” Humility acknowledges weakness; unbelief treats weakness as stronger than God’s sufficiency.
On Second Thought, perhaps the greatest evidence of a divine call is not that a person wants a platform, but that he would gladly avoid it if obedience allowed. The paradox is that the person most fit to carry God’s message often feels least adequate to do so. Yet inadequacy may become the very ground on which dependence grows.
God did not remove every weakness from Moses before sending him. He promised His presence, supplied Aaron’s help, placed His words in Moses’ mouth, and demonstrated His power through an imperfect servant. This means the call of God is neither a reward for self-confidence nor permission for self-exaltation. It is an invitation to surrender. The reluctant prophet must learn that obedience is safer than hiding, while the eager speaker must learn that visibility is not the same as calling. Some are tempted to refuse because they feel too small; others are tempted to assume the role because they think themselves large enough.
Grace corrects both errors. God’s servant must neither worship his weakness nor advertise his strength. He must stand where God places him, speak what God gives him, remain accountable to Scripture, and leave the results with the Lord. Perhaps you are not being called to a pulpit, but you may be called to a conversation, a prison cell, a hospital room, a classroom, a grieving family, or one wounded person who needs a faithful word. The question is not whether the assignment looks important. The question is whether God has spoken and whether we will obey.
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