By Jason Smith

Fear is a poison that paralyzes us. It locks us in a prison of our own making. It holds us back from walking forward in love. Fear stifles our courage and whispers the lie that we don’t have what it takes to walk in obedience to the Lord.

We’ve all had times where we are plagued by self-doubt. We can sense God calling us into something that terrifies us, and our gut-level response is to shrink back in horror. We think, “What? Little old me? I can’t possibly do that.” Or maybe it’s more like, “Big fat sinner me? I’m not worthy of doing that.” Nevertheless, God wants us to realize His plan for our lives is bigger than we ever dared to dream.

Too often — I can see this in myself — we know God wants us to follow through on something, and the reason we haven’t yet is actually very simple: fear. Fear of failure. Fear of exposure. Fear of losing a friendship. Fear of looking foolish. Fear of falling on our face and never wanting to take a risk again.

Here’s what I think can happen sometimes. We tell ourselves we have good reasons not to walk forward in obedience. We rationalize. We experience the sudden onset of analysis paralysis, thinking, There must be some mistake. With all my faults, flaws, and foibles, I don’t see this working out. I’m not the right person for the job. As if, somehow, the almighty, all-wise, and all-sufficient God of creation might be mistaken when He calls us to do something. All the stars and galaxies in the night sky follow their orbital path with precision, seamlessly bending to their Maker’s will. But, strangely, His own children won’t budge. We might even label it humility. But in reality, it’s doubting — or, perhaps, ignoring — God’s promises.

Get this picture in your mind. An 80-year-old Middle Eastern shepherd wanders through the craggy rocks of the Sinai Wilderness. After spending decades out in this wasteland, the blazing hot sun has left His face creased with deep wrinkles. He raises a rough brown hand to shade his eyes as he peers up at the towering mountain before him. He notices a strange orange glow emitting near the top. His brow furrows, and he scratches his wiry gray beard. What is that, a fire?

The desert wind howls as he nears the mysterious orange glow. Then he sees it: a desert brush fire is just taking off… or so he thinks. On further examination, he sees the flames are engulfing only one shrub, and, strangely, that shrub is not burning up. His body tremors as his eyes lock on the eerie spectacle.

What happened next? “When the LORD saw that he turned aside to see, God called to him out of the bush” (Exodus 3:3). At this point, the old shepherd is just showing curiosity, but that’s all God needed. Sometimes we just need to do some investigating. We need to show an openness to what God might have for us. As we do that, there’s no telling how our lives might be transformed.

To the shepherd’s astonishment, a voice bellowed from the shrubbery: “Moses, Moses!” You know God is trying to get your attention when He calls your name twice. I imagine Moses’s voice cracking: “Here I am.” His next thought was probably: Wait… I’m talking to a bush! How long have I been out in this heat?

After telling Moses to remove his sandals in His presence, the deep, thunderous yet mellifluous voice continued, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob” (v. 6). On hearing this, Moses shielded his eyes, as if the radiating spectacle might burn through his retinas. He was actually speaking to the everlasting God. The terror-stricken Moses didn’t know if he would survive this encounter.

Then God spoke in a surprisingly soothing way of assurance: “I have surely seen the affliction of my people who are in Egypt and have heard their cry because of their taskmasters. I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them out of the hand of the Egyptians” (vv. 7-8a). Did you catch what God said? “I know their sufferings.”

We desperately need to be reminded that the living God, our personal Creator, Yahweh, is intimately concerned with us. He knows your deepest fears. He knows everything about you. He put you together in your mother’s womb. He knows the struggles you face. But He doesn’t just know about these struggles; He acts as our Rearguard, our Fortress, and our Deliverer. He responds to our cries for help.

As if Moses wasn’t shocked enough, God then tells this quaking old man: “Oh, and by the way, Moses, I’m going to send you to be my right hand man. Yes, you heard me rightly. You, Moses, are going to be the man I use to deliver my people” (v. 10, my paraphrase).

Moses’s jaw hit the ground. “Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh and bring the children of Israel out of Egypt?” (v. 11). Do you ever hear yourself ask that question: “Who am I? Who am I, Lord, that You would want to use little old me?” Moses had lived eight long decades by this point. At one time, he was a prince of Egypt, but his glory days were over. Now, Moses was little more than a washed up sheepherder who spent long hours under the desert sun.

Moses rattles off several excuses: “What if they don’t listen?” (4:1). “God, don’t You know I’m not all that eloquent?” (v. 10). He’s saying, “God, you’ve got the wrong guy. I’m past my prime. I’ve got so little to offer. Aren’t there thousands of stronger, fitter, and younger fellas that would better serve your purposes?”

Can you hear yourself asking the same kind of questions? God, I’m really not the natural-leader type. God, I’m not so good with my… um… words. God, I’ve got this great person in mind for you — anybody but me!

Remember Moses’s first response? “Here I am.” That’s the right response when God calls our name. God has a way of rerouting paths we thought were certain and remaking plans we thought were set in stone. We often feel off-kilter when God does this, but it’s the way He’s always worked with people like you and me.

God isn’t like the guy who grabs a megaphone and shouts at a crowd, “Okay, I need a couple volunteers! Any takers?”

No, God’s way is much more direct and forthright than that. He prefers to call us by name. We may try to plug our ears, put Him on mute, and drown Him out with white noise, but He keeps calling. God does not settle for the busy signal. Sometimes, He even has to grab us by the scruff of our neck, square us up, and, like a gentle father, say, “Hey, I’m talking to you.”

Our response should not be “Who am I?” but “Here I am.”[1] God is looking for a willing and submissive heart. He has something specific in mind for you and you alone. Do you know what it is yet? Are you still making excuses or turning up the white noise?

When you sense fear rising up, remember the promise that God gave Moses: “I will be with you” (3:12). That’s the only promise we really need. If you’re afraid of what is coming next, get your eyes up. Look at His sufficiency, not your list of excuses. So the next time God calls you to do something outside your comfort zone, turn your “Who am I?” into a “Here I am.” You won’t regret it.

[1] There are, of course, times when “Who am I?” can just be a humble response to God’s grace, as in 2 Samuel 7:18, when David is overwhelmed with God’s favor. My point is that we shouldn’t look to ourselves for our confidence, but to God.

Photo: Mount Sinai in Egypt