I Am Confident in the Voice God Has Given Me
I Am Confident in the Voice God Has Given Me
Why authors don't need more confidence—they need deeper trust.
I’ve always been fascinated with the story of Moses and Aaron.
As I steward this call to be an author and work with authors on a daily basis, I’ve begun to see this story through a bit of a different lens. If you aren’t familiar with it, you can find it in the opening chapters of Exodus.
God appears to Moses in a burning bush with an assignment that seems completely impossible: go to Pharaoh and lead the Israelites out of slavery. Moses immediately begins pushing back. First, he questions whether he’s the right person for the job. God responds by assuring Moses that He will be with him. Moses asks what he should tell the Israelites when they question who sent him, so God tells him exactly what to say. Moses argues that the people won’t believe him, so God demonstrates His power through a series of miraculous signs. Then Moses shifts his attention to what he sees as his greatest weakness. He insists that he isn’t eloquent, that he’s slow of speech and tongue. God reminds Moses that He is the One who made his mouth and promises to help him speak and teach him what to say. Finally, Moses stops arguing around the issue and simply says what he’s been thinking all along: “Please send someone else.” At that point, God agrees to send Aaron to speak alongside him, and together they go before the Israelites.
Growing up in church, this story was always presented as an example of how God provided Moses with the help he needed to fulfill his calling. The more I’ve studied it and considered what it means for us as authors, though, the more layers I’ve found that are difficult to ignore.
Confidence Isn’t the Point
As I peeled those layers back, one truth kept surfacing:
God consistently directed Moses to see God’s power and plan instead of Moses’s shortcomings and fears.
When Moses argued that he couldn’t lead the Israelites because he wasn’t a good enough speaker, God didn’t respond by saying, “Sure you are, Moses. You’re a great speaker.” Instead, God essentially says, “I know who you are. I know who made you. I know your limitations. Go anyway because I will be with you.”
The conversation shifts here from self-confidence to confidence in God.
For us as authors—especially faith-based authors—that is an incredibly important distinction. We spend far too much time asking ourselves:
Am I a good enough writer?
Am I qualified?
What if someone knows more than I do?
Who am I to write this?
Moses wrestled with many of those same questions. He argued that he had never been eloquent. He insisted he was slow of speech and slow of tongue. He worried no one would listen to him. Ultimately, he arrived at the place so many of us eventually do:
“Please send someone else.”
What’s interesting throughout this conversation is that God’s responses become shorter and shorter. At first, He answers Moses’s objections with reassurance. Eventually, after Moses offers his fifth excuse, Scripture tells us that God’s anger burned against him—not because Moses felt inadequate, but because Moses allowed his insecurity to become disobedience.
Looking for Our Own Aarons
Finally, God brings Aaron into the conversation.
This is the part of the story where I think most of us breathe a collective sigh of relief. It’s the moment when the pressure finally comes off Moses because someone else is going to help carry the responsibility.
Growing up, I always viewed Aaron as God’s solution. The more I study the story, though, the more I wonder if Aaron was less of a solution than he was a concession.
God had already promised Moses that He would help him speak and teach him what to say. He had already laid out the plan. But Moses still refused because he didn’t trust God’s promise or God’s presence enough to take the next step. So God accommodated Moses’s fear by sending Aaron.
As Israel’s story unfolds, Aaron becomes something of a complicated character. The golden calf incident is perhaps the clearest reminder that even the people we believe we need most are still human. They have their own weaknesses, their own blind spots, and their own moments of failure.
I don’t think that’s an accident in the larger story.
When Moses stood before the burning bush, God had already promised to be with him, to help him speak, and to teach him what to say. Moses didn’t trust that promise, so God accommodated his fear by sending Aaron. The very person Moses believed he needed eventually became the one who fashioned Israel’s golden calf. I don’t think the point of the story is that Aaron caused Moses’s problems. Rather, I think it’s a reminder that when we insist on placing our confidence somewhere other than God’s presence, we often discover that human solutions come with human limitations.
As I think about my own writing life, I can’t help but wonder how many golden calves I’ve built because I was looking for my own Aaron.
For writers, our golden calves rarely look like carved idols. More often, they look like the things we’ve convinced ourselves we need before we’ll finally be obedient to God’s calling. We tell ourselves we’ll write when we have:
A bigger platform.
Another credential.
More followers.
A literary agent.
A traditional publishing contract.
Someone else’s endorsement.
Permission from someone we admire.
None of those things are inherently wrong. Platforms can expand our reach. Credentials can sharpen our skills. Publishing contracts can open incredible doors. The problem begins when we quietly shift our trust from God’s calling to the things we believe will make us feel qualified enough to obey.
How much of our time is spent chasing an Aaron when God has already promised to be with us?
The Voice God Already Gave You
I keep coming back to Moses’s arguments about his limitations because God’s response never changed. Before Moses ever opened his mouth to explain why he wasn’t enough, God already knew every weakness, every insecurity, and every limitation he would eventually name. None of them surprised Him, and none of them caused Him to reconsider the calling.
The same is true for us.
God knows exactly where you feel inadequate. He knows the places where you doubt your ability, the subjects you worry you’re not qualified to write about, and the moments when you wonder if someone else could say it better. He called you with all of those limitations already in view.
That doesn’t mean you’ll never grow as a writer. It doesn’t mean you shouldn’t continue learning your craft or seeking wise counsel. It simply means your growth was never the prerequisite for God’s calling. He isn’t waiting for you to become the perfect writer before He entrusts you with meaningful work.
God has never called perfect voices or perfect people. He has always called ordinary people who are willing to trust Him enough to take the next step in obedience.
So the next time you’re tempted to believe you need one more credential, one more opportunity, one more endorsement, or one more person’s approval before you can faithfully steward the words God has given you, remember Moses standing before the burning bush. God already knew every objection Moses would raise before Moses ever spoke them aloud, and He knows yours as well.
The question has never been whether your voice is impressive enough. The question is whether you’re willing to trust the One who gave it.
Reflection Questions
Where have I been looking for an “Aaron” instead of trusting God with the voice He has already given me?
What “golden calves” have I quietly begun trusting more than God’s calling? Are there credentials, platforms, recognition, or approval that have become prerequisites for my obedience?
What is one step of faithful obedience God is inviting me to take this week with the words He has entrusted to me?
I write in two spaces. A Seat at the Table is where I explore faith, healing, and making room for honesty after it’s been made complicated. Ink & Intention is for writers who want to show up with clarity, discernment, and integrity—especially online.
I’m also the author of Breathing Again and several guided journals, and I work with writers who want thoughtful, grounded support as they find their voice and shape what comes next.
If you’re a writer looking for thoughtful encouragement, practical strategy, and honest conversations about the writing life, you’re also welcome to join us inside The Visible Author Facebook Community.
If something here resonated, you’re welcome to explore more at your own pace. You can find everything in one place at KristenNeighbarger.com.
