There’s nothing like stepping into something new to remind you of your own inadequacy.
I remember when I got my first big promotion to Communications Director, I was excited but overwhelmed. I kicked into perfectionist mode. My days were long. My emails were never-ending, and I tried to make sure not a single thing slipped through the cracks. I wanted to be enough for everyone.
And then I took a leap and rebranded my longtime photography side hustle into a full-blown marketing business called Layered Collective. This wasn’t just a creative outlet anymore. This was going to be my full-time gig. No safety net. No boss handing me assignments. Just me, my gifts, and a whole lot of fear. I was excited but also constantly questioning: “Am I really built for this? Do I actually have what it takes?”
Then came motherhood.
While I am always running into moments of feeling unqualified, this latest memory sticks out. When my daughter had her first stomach bug, I was on the phone with my mom (thankfully a retired nurse) almost hourly. I called the pediatrician’s nurse line daily, asking if I was doing the right thing. I was Googling symptoms and second-guessing everything. My daughter was small and sick, and I just wanted to get it right. But I felt unqualified. I was in over my head and felt like I needed someone more capable to step in and take over.
That’s when I think of Moses.
The Weight of a Calling
When we meet Moses in Exodus 3, he isn’t the confident prince of Egypt anymore. He’s a shepherd in Midian, forgotten by Pharaoh, disconnected from Israel, and humbled by failure. It’s precisely at this low point, forty years into a quiet life in the wilderness, that God appears to him in a burning bush and calls him to something massive. God tells him, “I am sending you to Pharaoh to bring my people the Israelites out of Egypt.”
Moses’ immediate response? “Who am I that I should go?”
We resonate with Moses not because of the greatness of the task but because of the fear that we’re not enough for it. Moses knew his past. He knew his failure. He knew how little power he had to confront the most powerful empire on earth. And yet God didn’t give Moses a five-step plan or even affirm his qualifications. He gave him a promise, “I will be with you.”
That’s the pivot point. Moses didn’t need to be enough because God already was.
Holiness and Hesitation
It’s easy to forget how sacred this moment was. God tells Moses to remove his sandals because he is standing on holy ground. There’s awe, fear, and reverence here. This is not a motivational pep talk from a distant deity. This is Yahweh, the God who sees, hears, and knows the suffering of His people, calling a broken man into His divine mission.
And what does He use as His sign? A bush that burns but is not consumed. It is a powerful picture of Israel in affliction where they are surrounded by fire but not destroyed. As we think about this imagery for Israel, we realize that it is also a picture of us today where we are called to hard things, refined by flame, but not consumed when God is in it with us.
God doesn’t erase Moses’ fear. He acknowledges it and redirects it—not toward self-confidence, but toward dependence. “Certainly I will be with you.” His presence is the only credential Moses needs.
Power in Weakness
Fast forward centuries, and Paul writes about weakness in a way that echoes Moses’ fear. In 2 Corinthians 12, he speaks about a “thorn in the flesh”—a painful, humbling experience that God would not take away. Paul pleads with God to remove it, but the Lord answers: “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.”
We live in a world that prizes confidence, credentials, and charisma. But the Kingdom of God runs on a different economy. It is one where God’s strength is revealed not in our superiority but in our surrender.
Paul doesn’t just accept weakness. He boasts in it because he knows it creates space for something better. It demonstrates Christ’s power resting on him.
That Greek word for “rest” (ἐπισκηνόω) literally means to pitch a tent over, to dwell, or tabernacle. God’s power doesn’t just help us in weakness. It covers us, surrounds us, makes its home in us.
Maybe that’s what God is doing in your life too.
Maybe the very thing that makes you feel unqualified is the doorway to deeper intimacy with God. Maybe the exhaustion, hesitation, uncertainty is not disqualifying but refining.
Motherhood continues to bring me face to face with this. I want to get it right so badly. I want to protect, nurture, provide, teach, and train. I want to do it all. But most days, I feel more like Moses than I’d care to admit, and I’m learning that’s okay.
God doesn’t despise our inadequacy. He meets us in it. He calls us from it. And He promises us: “I will be with you.”
Not when we finally get it all together. Not when we feel strong. Not once we’ve read all the books or earned the right degrees or figured out the perfect work-life balance.
Right now.
Right here.
In the bush.
In the thorn.
In the mess.
He is with us.
So if you’re feeling unqualified today, whether as a leader, parent, spouse, friend, or simply a follower of Jesus, take heart.
You were never meant to do it on your own.
His grace is enough. His power is made perfect in your weakness. And His presence is all the qualification you need.
