Jeremiah 1 Sermon: Our Shaky Selves and God’s Unshakableness

Quick Summary

Jeremiah 1:4–10 and Hebrews 12:18–29 remind us that God’s call is not about our readiness but God’s authority. God appointed Jeremiah before birth, promising to equip him for the task. Hebrews declares that all else will be shaken, but God’s kingdom stands firm. Together, these passages teach that God has the right to call, the power to equip, and the promise of an unshakable future.

Introduction

I was what you might call a late bloomer academically. School was fine. I made A’s and B’s and an occasional, “Oh, that was close.” I liked the friends, the sports, and the cafeteria conversations. But to be honest, I wasn’t exactly sitting at home diagramming sentences for fun.

I went to a small K–12 school, and out of all the classes and grades, there was one that I just hated. Really hated. Fifth grade. Mrs. Rory was stern but she could laugh with the class, too. But she did this thing I absolutely despised: she would call us up to the chalkboard to do a math problem.

I would rather have eaten the meatloaf in the cafeteria twice than stand up there with chalk in my hand. (Remember chalk? That dusty line across your pants, the squeak on the board when it caught just wrong?) You want me to do this problem right here in front of everyone?  

Do you know why I hated it so much? Because I’d heard the peanut gallery when other students were up there.

“She doesn’t see the answer right in front of her.”

“He doesn’t get it. We just went over this.”

And I knew the moment I stood up there, it would be my turn to hear those voices.

Now sometimes those voices were outside of me — classmates whispering, “Carry the one! You forgot to…(math term)” But sometimes they were inside me: “You’re going to get this wrong. You’re not ready. You don’t have what it takes.”

And sometimes my prayer in those moments was very simple: “Dear God, if you are there, please make Mrs. Rory call on someone else.”

Ugh. Anyone else in here sweating from flashbacks? You just don’t forget that kind of moment.

Jeremiah Called Out

And in our passage today, Jeremiah is the kid ducking his head behind the person in front of him, hoping God won’t see him and call on him. But God does. God says, “Jeremiah, I appoint you to be a prophet to the nations!”

And Jeremiah says, “Here? In front of everyone? Ah, Lord God, I don’t know how to speak. I’m only a boy. That’s a grown man’s game.”

He could hear the voices. The ones outside: “You can’t be a prophet. You’re too young. Too naïve.” And the ones inside: “You’re going to fail. You’re not cut out for this. You don’t have what it takes.”

And honestly, I don’t blame him. If I had to go stand at the chalkboard of the nations, with all eyes on me, I would have ducked down, too.

But God wasn’t listening to the peanut gallery. God wasn’t even listening to Jeremiah’s excuses. God was listening to Jeremiah’s fear —honest fear of being exposed, of not being capable. And God answered: “Before you were born, I knew you. I’ve known you longer than you’ve known yourself. Before you even spoke, I appointed you.” 

Notice what God does not say. God doesn’t say, “Jeremiah, you’re better than you think.” God doesn’t say, “Jeremiah, give yourself some credit.” God kind says, “Yeah, you’re probably right about some of your limitations, but I know what I can do through someone like you. I have called you. I will be with you.”

It’s not about Jeremiah’s readiness. It’s about God’s faithfulness.

Our Excuses, God’s Call

I wonder what excuses you and I carry.

• I’m too young.

• I’m too old.

• I don’t know enough about the Bible.

• I’m not spiritual enough.

• I’ve failed too many times.

• I’m too tired. Too busy. Too broken.

And maybe we’ve even rehearsed those excuses so many times that we believe they’re the truest thing about us. But God doesn’t seem interested in listening to our excuses. God is more interested in listening to our fear and answering with promise: “Before you were born, I knew you. Before you spoke, I appointed you. As you can see from the amazing planet and cosmos I’ve put around you, I kind of know what I’m doing. So I invite you to trust me.” 

And friends, that’s not just Jeremiah’s story. That’s the story of the people God calls in scripture. Moses stutters. Sarah laughs. Jonah runs. Peter denies. Paul says he’s the least of all. God never seems to choose the ones who feel perfectly ready.

It’s almost as if God delights in beginning where we feel unfinished.

When the World Shakes

The book of Hebrews puts it another way. It says: Everything that can be shaken, will be shaken. And we know what that feels like. 

Our confidence shakes.

Our health shakes.

Our families shake.

Our finances shake.

Our relationships shake.

Even the church shakes.

And we wonder, “What’s left when all the scaffolding falls down? What’s left when the voices are louder than our courage?”

 Hebrews answers: there is one thing that cannot be shaken. God’s kingdom. God’s mercy. God’s love.

And that’s both terrifying and good news. Terrifying, because we lose what we thought was holding us up- ourselves, our readiness, our abilities.  

And from that we are called to trust not in our shakable selves, but in God whose kingdom and purposes always stand strong.

I remember the season of grief I journeyed through when my dad died unexpectedly at the age of 62. Months into my grief, I felt exhausted, stripped bare, and just beaten down. And then I realized, “Oh, this is what it means to trust God. I’m being pushed beyond my small, capable self, and I’m being invited to trust in an unshakable God.”

What Remains

I think of people who have stood at the chalkboard of life and felt exposed. The bereaved staring at an empty chair. A financial plan that fell short. The teenager scrolling through comments, hearing the peanut gallery in digital form. Our body breaking down. The parent who wonders if they’ve done enough, loved enough, given enough. 

Shaken. All of it shaken.

And yet God whispers into that fear: “Before you were born, I knew you. I’m not shaken. My kingdom is not shaken. My love for you is not shaken.”

This is why we gather. Not because we feel ready, but because God is faithful. Not because we’re equipped, but because God equips. Not because we’re unshakable, but because God’s kingdom is.

Our Story, Too

And so the question for us is not, “Are we ready?” The question is: Will we let God’s mercy have its way in us?

Will we trust that God knows us better than we know ourselves?

Will we believe that God’s promise runs deeper than our fear?

Will we let God search us, keep us, heal us, and send us?

Because friends, that is the story we live. That is the Gospel. That is the kingdom that cannot be shaken.

You Have Come

Hebrews reminds us that our faith is not about us climbing up toward God, but about God calling us and claiming us and also God stating, “I have the right to ask something of you.”

Listen to how the author writes it: You have not come to something that can be touched, a blazing fire, and darkness, and gloom, and a tempest.” That was Sinai. That was the mount of fear.

 But now, “You have come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God, the heavenly Jerusalem. . . you have come to innumerable angels in festal gathering . . . You have come to the assembly of the firstborn . . . You have come to God the judge of all . . .You have come to Jesus, the mediator of a new covenant.”

Over and over again, the refrain is the same: you have come, you have come, you have come.

This is not about Jeremiah’s readiness. It is not about whether you or I feel equipped. This is about who has called us, to whom we belong, and whether or not we will let God be God for us.

And therefore, Hebrews says, “See that you do not refuse the one who is speaking.” In other words, pay attention to God. Obey. Listen. Because this God is not an elective course we can drop if the work gets too hard. This is the living God, the consuming fire, the kingdom that cannot be shaken.

And that leves us with a choice. If this is the God to whom we have come, the lving God, the consuming fire, the kingdom that cannot be shaken, then the question is not whether we feel ready, but whether we will listen and act. Whether we will trust the One who calls us.

 Everything else in our lives will shake. Our excuses, our self-confidence, our plans, even our fears. But the God who calls us is not shaken. The Christ who speaks is still speaking. The Spirit who gathers us will not let us go.

 So today, maybe the question is this: will we let God be God? Will we let God search us, and keep us, heal us, and send us?

 And that’s why our next hymn feels less like music and more like a prayer. It’s our way of saying back to God what Hebrews and Jeremiah are saying to us: You are the love that searches, the hope that heals, the fire that holds, the light that leads.

So let us rise and sing from 543, “God, be the love to search and keep me.”