You may or may not know that I've been working on a writing project. I hope it becomes a book someday, but I can't say for sure that it will. All I know is that God has pressed it upon my heart to write—so I do.
Except, I doubt what I'm doing every single week. More often than not, I wrestle with thoughts and feelings of inadequacy and inevitably question what and why I'm even writing in the first place.
Lately, however, I've been challenged in this wrestle that keeps playing on repeat. And in studying the book of Exodus this month, I was struck by a similar interaction between Moses and God.
Before God appeared to Moses in the burning bush, Moses wanted to free the Israelites (Acts 7). Yet, he still hesitated when God called Moses to action and revealed his plan to rescue his people from slavery. Moses' desire aligned with God's calling, but he was still filled with doubt. And when Moses finally obeyed, he still questioned it all at the first sign of difficulty, despite the Lord telling him opposition would come.
This story stuck out to me because it's my story too. God aligned my desire with his call to action, and I hesitate. Whenever I feel opposed, I'm like Moses saying, "Who am I?" Or when things don't go the way I expect, I position myself with a humble posture and list all the reasons why it won't work.
But in one of her Exodus teachings, Jen Wilkin said, "Don't mistake your doubt for humility." And it hit like a knife in my heart.
My flesh wants to justify my doubt by calling it humility, but it's disbelief in God.
When I entertain the ways I'm inadequate, I'm not believing God is who he says he is. When I say, "I can't do this," I'm making it about me. And when I question God's plan, I'm putting myself in the center of a narrative that God has already established is his. Doubt is disbelief, through and through.
Humility recognizes my place as a contingent, created being—created by God who is not contingent in any way. Who is self-existent, infinite, and sovereign; the Lord Almighty. And who is faithful to accomplish his will. Humility is recognizing God for who he is, which propels a servant-hearted response of willingness to believe him at his word, trust his sufficiency, and obey.
I want to think my response would be different if I were Moses and God appeared to me in a burning bush, but I know it wouldn't be. Because it hasn't, and God has revealed himself to me more than once. I may not be able to keep myself from doubting, but I can confess my disbelief at the feet of the Lord Almighty, who is long-suffering, patient, and faithful to deliver. And who rescues me from my doubt by revealing himself as Creator and me as created. Reminding me again and again, he is who he says he is.
If you're like me, questioning what God's given you to do and wrestling with doubt about it, let him restore himself to the center of the narrative—because it's not about you. It's never about your position and what you don't have. It's always about God and what he does.
He is the great I AM. The Lord Almighty who was, who is, and is to come.
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