My Dear Shepherds,

The first draft lottery for the Vietnam War was July 1, 1970. I was 19. I watched it anxiously with some friends on a black and white TV. As each day of the year was announced, a little capsule was drawn assigning a draft number. My birthday, January 17, came up as number 54, a sure ticket except for my college deferment. I most certainly didn’t want to go.

God drafted Moses at age 80. He didn’t want to go either. He pleaded for a deferment four times, all for naught. We particularly remember this one:

“Pardon your servant, Lord. I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you have spoken to your servant. I am slow of speech and tongue.” (Ex. 4:10)

Literally, “My tongue is heavy.” “I’m a verbal clodhopper; I have the eloquence of a brick.” It wasn’t that Moses didn’t want to serve God. He’d been angered to the point of murder by the treatment of Israelite slaves when he was younger. But what God required was way out of his league, the stuff of nightmares.

Moses’ ability wasn’t the issue. When it comes to speaking for God, eloquence is as great a handicap as a stammer. Paul told the Corinthians, “When I came to you, I did not come with eloquence or human wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God” (1 Cor. 2:1).

Eloquence isn’t unwelcome in preaching, of course. It’s just not the secret of success. I knew a dear pastor who stuttered. When I asked Cliff about that, he said, “I’ve always envied people who could speak words they wanted to speak at the time they wanted. I guess it’s to keep me humble. It gives me an understanding of other people.” There’s eloquence in that, too.

Make no mistake; we’re all reduced to mere orators unless God says,

“I will help you speak and will teach you what to say.” (Ex. 4:12)

When the LORD assigned Aaron to help Moses, his commission was audacious:

“He will speak to the people for you, and it will be as if he were your mouth and as if you were God to him.” (Ex. 4:16)

When Moses arrived in Egypt he was still protesting, “Since I speak with faltering lips, why would Pharaoh listen to me?” To which the LORD replied again,

“See, I have made you like God to Pharaoh, and your brother Aaron will be your prophet.” (Ex. 7:1)

The really unnerving thing isn’t speaking to some Pharaoh, let alone to our congregations. It’s speaking for God. I never suffered from stage fright, but every single Sunday I was unsettled by that holy duty.

I always identified with Aaron more than Moses. I’m a capable speaker, but only the mouthpiece for Christ, our Leader and Word. In my forties, in an effort to improve my preaching, I recruited a group of people to pray for my preaching three or four times a week. I called them Aaron’s Army. They were my reinforcements.

Our sermons, discipleship meetings, and counseling may not have Moses’ momentous vibe, but we, too, speak for God. We are not mere reporters. We are preaching heirs of prophets, apostles, and of Jesus himself, “as if he were your mouth.”

I love asking other pastors about what they’re preaching. Last weekend, good shepherds I know preached from Genesis 1, Mark 2, 1 Peter 4, Revelation 4–5 and 18–19; from Acts 2, Jude, and Esther. And all of them, I am confident, spoke for God. If you’ve been drafted, so may you.

Be ye glad!

Lee Eclov recently retired after 40 years of local pastoral ministry and now focuses on ministry among pastors. He writes a weekly devotional for preachers on Preaching Today.