Reflections on Jeremiah 1:4–10; one of my favorite passages.
Call of Jeremiah
4 The Lord’s word came to me:
5 “Before I created you in the womb I knew you;
before you were born I set you apart;
I made you a prophet to the nations.”
6 “Ah, Lord God,” I said, “I don’t know how to speak
because I’m only a child.”
7 The Lord responded,
“Don’t say, ‘I’m only a child.’
Where I send you, you must go;
what I tell you, you must say.
8 Don’t be afraid of them,
because I’m with you to rescue you,”
declares the Lord.
9 Then the Lord stretched out his hand,
touched my mouth, and said to me,
“I’m putting my words in your mouth.
10 This very day I appoint you over nations and empires,
to dig up and pull down,
to destroy and demolish,
to build and plant.”
Beloved Community,
We use the term calling or call often in homilies, bible study, reflection. ‘What is the Gospel calling you to do?’ Consider that deep inner voice within us, call it calling, intuition, awareness; we might consider, where is the source of that voice? For some it is a loaded confusing word….
I know somehow that the Creator has planted a prophetic spark in me, and in each one of us— a spark that was not meant to stay hidden, a spark that was not meant for the brave or loud or ordained alone, but a spark waiting to be claimed, engaged and set ablaze. Long before others told us who we were before the labels, the boxes, the limitations The Creator knew us. Before our bodies were fully formed, before our lungs filled with breath, God saw us, loved us, called us.
Young Jeremiah protests: “Ah, Lord God! I do not know how to speak, for I am only a boy.”
It’s a familiar response for many of us: I’m not ready. I’m not worthy. I’m not sure.
Some of us have voices silenced by systems that push back against us when we speak our truth, by shame, or simply by being overlooked. Some of us were told we were too young, too old, too unqualified, too poor, too radical, not subtle enough, too much, or not enough. And some of us were never told we had value, a voice, or a calling.
The Hebrew word yada (to know) is relational. It means more than cognition—it speaks of loving recognition and belonging. This is a knowing that comes with purpose. God not only knows Jeremiah, God appoints him, consecrates him, for a life of prophetic witness. God does not call him because he is ready. God calls him because he is known.
In Luke’s Gospel we are told that John the Baptist leaps in Elizabeth’s womb upon hearing Mary’s greeting. The Holy call can precede even speech, even consciousness. And so God reaches out to Jeremiah, not to give him a script but to touch his mouth—to ignite the voice waiting within him.
Before Jeremiah could speak a single word, before he had proven himself worthy, strong, or wise—God whispered, “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you.” This is not merely biology; it is sacred intimacy. It is the soul’s memory of being known and named by Love before fear, failure, or fragmentation had their say. In a world constantly tells us we are as valuable as our performance or our pedigree, this passage speaks a deeper truth: our worth is original, not earned. Consider other traditions:
In several African cultures, a child’s name is not simply chosen for convenience but discerned through dreams, visions, or community rituals. The name often carries a prophetic dimension, signaling destiny or calling. Naming becomes a way of recognizing the spirit’s purpose already present in the child. Many Indigenous peoples of North America regard children as spirit-bearers who come into the world carrying gifts for the community. Their lives are seen as woven into the larger story of the people and the land. Vision quests, storytelling, and ceremonial practices often affirm the sacred purposes that children embody.
In Hindu practices, dharma (one’s sacred duty or right path) is not a matter of self-invention but of revelation. Dharma is discovered—through scripture, through the wisdom of elders, and through the unhiddeness of life’s circumstances. It is less about “choosing” and more about living into what has always been present. In Mahāyāna Buddhism, the Bodhisattva vow illustrates the idea that vocation transcends even a single lifetime. A Bodhisattva carries the vow to relieve suffering across lifetimes, embodying the truth that calling is not merely an individual project but a cosmic and communal responsibility. Some spiritual traditions call us to return inward, to listen beneath the noise, and remember that first voice—that pre-verbal grace—that still speaks within. To reclaim our calling is to remember who we were before the world told us who to be.
We are created in the image of divine creativity that cannot be undone. It is in this deep remembering that we find our true selves—not shaped by the demands of the world but rooted in the eternal love that called us into being.
We are Called Before We Are Ready: Divine calling often arrives before competence or confidence. Like Jeremiah, we may resist, but God supplies courage and companionship.
Our Identity Is Interwoven with God’s Justice: To be named by God is to be summoned into the work of plucking up and planting, of confronting powers and building the Beloved Community.
Vocation Is Not Self-Generated: This challenges the myth of self-made identity. Instead, it invites us to discern and respond to what is whispered in our bones and spirit. In a world that devalues some bodies, races, genders, class, before they even breathe air, Jeremiah declares that every person is known, called, and loved before birth affirming sacred worth over utilitarian value. Perhaps a womb centered liberation theology?
There are three truths I invite you to consider:
First, God shaped you from the beginning. You were known and loved before you spoke a word or achieved a role. In the stillness in quiet moments we are invited to remember we were formed in divine mystery, in what Matthew Fox calls “original blessing.” You are not an accident of biology or a product of achievement. You are a wonder, a blessing, crafted in the image of God.
Second, you were made imago Dei, in the image of God, God’s own reflection shines through you. Not because of your perfection or productivity, but because your being is holy.
And third, even in your imperfection, you are enough. God’s love is not earned it is remembered. Every time you pause to listen to that first voice of grace, you reclaim the blessing of who you’ve always been.
Shalom, Rex
