Gifted Inadequacy

Sermon 404 St. Martin’s 158 8/24/25

The word of the Lord came to me, saying,

"Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, and before you were born I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations."

Then I said, "Ah, Lord God! Truly I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy." But the Lord said to me,

"Do not say, 'I am only a boy'; for you shall go to all to whom I send you, and you shall speak whatever I command you. Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you to deliver you,

says the Lord."

Then the Lord put out his hand and touched my mouth; and the Lord said to me,

"Now I have put my words in your mouth. See, today I appoint you over nations and over kingdoms, to pluck up and to pull down, to destroy and to overthrow, to build and to plant." Jeremiah 1:4-10

I love asking kids important questions. You can never guess what their answer will be. Years ago, I asked a six-year-old named Grace what she wanted to be when she grew up. She thought for a moment, took a deep breath, and then, with a big smile, she said, “Everything!”

I replied, “Grace, how in the world are you going to be everything?”

She said, “I don’t know, but tell God that’s what I want to be.” And then she ran off.

For me, I thought as an adult I could be an astronaut priest, with a side hustle as a baseball player, and an occasional rodeo clown. The possibilities were endless. Being “everything” didn’t seem that far-fetched back then.

What Happens?                              

So, what happened? Where does that confidence that the world is ours, and that we can do anything and be anything, go? As we get older, it seems to fade away as reality sets in.

It is a great shame that we cannot hold onto at least some of that childlike exuberance for life and its endless possibilities.

Sadly, what takes its place is much duller than the wild imagination we used to have. We quickly learn our inadequacies and the limitations they impose on us. How our bodies are shaped, how our minds work, and the interests and skills we acquire along the way are stark reminders that we cannot be “everything.” It’s too late to be an astronaut, but I may still have a shot as a rodeo clown.

By our teenage years, we are better versed in our shortcomings and failures than in our gifts and potential. We have learned from the social jungle of middle school and high school that others may perceive us as awkward, annoying, or simply out of place. Darwin’s survival of the fittest never feels more real than in grade school.

By adulthood, we are keenly aware of our shortcomings as we have accrued more nicks and bruises on the journey. Our youthful hope of being “anything and everything” died with our failed marriage, or when all the bills came due, or when we received the diagnosis, or when the email said we didn’t get the job we hoped for.

In a recent interview, the founder and CEO of the dating app Bumble said she believed we are presently in a self-hatred epidemic.[i] She’s seeing firsthand on her platform the effects of a culture obsessed with what we lack. 

What hinders so many of us from feeling deeply connected with others is how we perceive ourselves. We know our shortfalls and failures all too well. “Comparison is the thief of joy,” as Teddy Roosevelt said.

By adulthood, we know our place in the social and economic food chain. When new opportunities come along, fear and self-doubt may override youthful optimism. “I’m too old, I’m too young, I don’t have enough money, enough education, I don’t have the experience needed to make that kind of change.”

We’ve all had to balance our sense of inadequacy with our hope of who we could become.

Frodo

There is a classic moment in Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring where Frodo wrestles with this idea of inadequacy as he considers the immense task at hand. He is the one who must destroy the all-powerful ring in the fires of Mount Doom, and he’s not sure if he’s up for it. Hobbits are simple creatures after all.

Frodo says to Gandalf, “I am not made for perilous quests. I wish I had never seen the Ring! Why did it come to me? Why was I chosen?” 

“Such questions cannot be answered,” Gandalf replied. “You must be sure that it was not for any merit that others do not possess; not for power or wisdom, at any rate. But you have been chosen and you must therefore use such strength and heart and wits as you have.”[ii] 

When compared to the others in the fellowship, this little hobbit did not possess the athleticism, skill, or the resume of a great warrior like the others in the group. He was completely out of his league, and he knew it, but he was chosen for the task, and that made all the difference.

Maybe as adults, we have a “Frodo-complex.” We are practiced in pleading inadequacy. We start with what we lack rather than the strength, heart, and wit that God has given us. We know where we fall short, and God certainly knows our shortcomings, too, but that doesn’t stop God from calling us into the important tasks he has for us.

Jeremiah

Jeremiah, the boy-turned-prophet, had to learn this lesson too. God didn’t call Jeremiah because he had an impressive resume or had years of experience in the religious schools of Jerusalem. He was a suburban kid, living three miles away from the hustle and bustle of the Holy City in the small village of Anathoth.

He was away from all the action. He had no connections to the real movers and shakers in the city, and zero qualifications to be a voice of authority, but that didn’t disqualify him in God’s eyes; it was precisely what God was looking for: a blank canvas, a willing heart, a courageous spirit.

And he would need to be courageous because he was not given an easy message. If he longed for adoration and fame, he would not get it as God’s prophet. His fate would be quite the opposite.

God saw something in young Jeremiah that Jeremiah could not begin to see in himself. In that boy, God saw a vessel of his word; a vessel that would conform to the hand of the Potter like wet clay on the wheel.   

Undoubtedly, Jeremiah was special; he was consecrated for this divine mandate, but we would be missing the point if we assumed that’s the main takeaway. The real theme is the power of God’s action in a person’s life. Not that Jeremiah was special, but rather, what the power of God can do to an average kid from Anathoth.

The more you read the Bible, the more you realize that it is filled with a ragtag group of surprising selections. As we have already learned, what we humans consider to be disqualifying weaknesses are not the same for God. Jeremiah joined a long list of people who were seemingly inadequate (unworthy) for the important task God had for them.

Abraham was 75 when God first called him (I mean, think about that. Think about living your life up to the age of 75, AND THEN God says, “Alright, now it’s time we get to work).

Sarah, his wife, was 90 when she gave birth to Isaac. Moses, the great leader of the Exodus, stuttered when he spoke (he also murdered someone). Deborah was a judge (a leader) in Israel in a male-dominated society. Samuel was a mere boy when God called him to be a great prophet. David was a lowly shepherd boy before being handpicked to be king.

The theme continues in the New Testament. God called elderly Elizabeth and Zechariah to have a son who would prepare the way for Jesus. God called young Mary to be a vessel for the Eternal Word in her womb. Similar to Jeremiah, she asks, “How can this be?” But then replies in faith, “Let it be according to your word.”

God calls bumbling and blathering Peter, who denied Jesus three times; Paul persecuted the church; Timothy, a young man who accompanied Paul on his journeys, became an important leader in the early church.

The list goes on and on. All these people had something going against them, but like our passage this morning, God was the constant. His claim on our lives—and the call to be the person he has created us to be—shatters both our self-perceived inadequacies and the limitations the world might put on us.

The difference isn’t us; it’s God. He is the one who has claimed us, marked us as his own through redemption in his well-beloved Son, and he has called us into new life and new creation.

A Life of Faith

You and I may not be called to be prophets, but Jeremiah’s call to be a prophet equates to God calling each of us to a life of faith. God doesn’t call us because we are qualified for the work at hand; instead, God’s claim on us is what qualifies us—and empowers us—to live bold lives of faith among the people and places we find ourselves.

It is the stamp of approval that pushes us into the world to be the person God wants us to be and to do the work he has called us to.  It’s the gracious action of God in our lives that makes the difference.

Although we’re not all meant to be prophets, our lives and vocations do share some similar characteristics with the prophets of old. Two things particularly stand out. Prophets are

1. “Keenly aware that God is personal, alive, and active.

2. Prophets had the conviction that what is going on right now, in the world and in history, is critical.”

Eugene Peterson puts it this way: “Prophets were obsessed with God and immersed in the now.”[iii] Those two convictions help us orient our life of faith towards the God who calls—and who acts—within time and space, including our own.

Because of that, prophets (and I would say all of us) should be rooted—with two feet firmly on the ground—where we are. God is actively at work here, and as his followers, we are to discern how he is alive and active within our very own Anathoth. The grass may be greener on the other side, but we’d miss the amazing things he is doing here if we’re always dreaming of a better place, a better job, a better school, a better life.

This simple change in mindset not only reshapes our feelings of personal inadequacies but also upends our complacency. The prophetic witness demands that we look for God here. What he is doing in our neighborhoods and communities right now is of immense importance to him, and so it should be important to us as well.

God calling young Jeremiah reminds us that God takes us seriously, no matter who we are, where we are, or the things we consider impediments in our lives. This is the upending nature of God’s action in this world. It forces us to consider God’s mode of operation and how it is so different than our own.

Throughout the Bible, we see how God takes kids and teenagers seriously to prove this point, especially to those who think they know how God works and through whom he works. God is not limited or bound by our expectations; what seems ridiculous to us simply is not for him. Each of us, no matter how young or old, no matter our education level, which neighborhood we live in, each person is a “vortex in which God’s purposes are being worked out,” as Peterson says.

Kids remind us of the freedom we can have in this life when we know that we are loved and cared for, and the curiosity we should have with everything and everyone that crosses our path.

When our identity is rooted in God rather than ourselves, then we can be reassured that we don’t have to be everything. Trying to be everything, even if it’s a childhood hope, can quickly turn into slavery. And we know for sure that God rescues his people from slavery.

Jeremiah was far from perfect, but that’s the point. God works through the unlikeliest of characters, and our names can be added to that list. We may be broken vessels, but we are broken vessels who are still meant to hold the glory of God.

And so, God’s words to Jeremiah all those years ago are meant for us too:

“Do not say, ‘I am too young.’ You must go to everyone I send you to and say whatever I command you.  Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you,' declares the Lord."[iv]

[i] Work Life with Adam Grant.

[ii] The Fellowship of the Ring 70

[iii]  Peterson 48

[iv] Jeremiah 1:7b-8 NIV

Photo by Robert Collins on Unsplash