On any given Sunday morning, there are parts of our worship that change and parts that don’t. Sometimes it’s the words we say; other times, it’s what we do. Much of that depends on the church season or the events of the day. And of course, what changes most for me is the sermon. But there’s one thing that never changes, and it happens right before I preach.
As we sing the Gospel acclamation, I step toward the pulpit and pause. It’s a moment of prayer—quiet and grounding. I take a deep breath and softly pray, “Lord, be with my mouth and give me the words to say.” The words are a paraphrase from Exodus 4:12, but they’ve become part of my weekly rhythm and part of my story.
When I was five years old, “legend” has it that I told my congregation during a children’s sermon that I wanted to be a pastor when I grew up. I don’t remember that myself, but over time, other people’s memories have turned into my own. Still, that childhood declaration would come to feel like a burden at times—especially because that same little boy also had a speech impediment.
I started speech therapy before kindergarten and continued into middle school. What I experienced, and sometimes still do, is known as speech blocking—moments where the words simply don’t come out. It made me self-conscious, unsure, and sometimes even ashamed. I was teased for how I talked—or couldn’t talk—and I wondered how I could ever be a pastor if I couldn’t even speak aloud.
I recall one Sunday at church when I struggled to find the words. I don’t remember exactly what was said, but there were snickers, and I ran out of the room in tears. My Sunday school teacher found me, and when I said I could never lead in the church because of my speech, he gently reminded me of Moses and how, when God called Moses at the burning bush, Moses protested, saying he was “slow of speech and slow of tongue.” God’s reply was this: “Who gives speech to mortals? Who makes them mute or deaf, seeing or blind? Is it not I, the Lord? Now go, and I will be with your mouth and teach you what you are to speak.” (Exodus 4:11-12) That story has stayed with me ever since. And those words—“I will be with your mouth”—have become my prayer every Sunday before I preach.
Perhaps that’s why I was especially moved this summer when we were contacted by someone looking for space in our building for pediatric speech therapy appointments. We’d already been exploring ways to better use our classrooms during the week, and this felt like a perfect fit. Since June, Emmanuel has been honored to rent to Pediatric Speech and Language Services as they work with children who, like five-year-old me, are learning how to find their voices.
Each week, children come here to grow in confidence and discover the power of their words. It’s a ministry of healing and hope that reminds me how God works—quietly, persistently, through others—to help us speak, lead, love, and serve in ways we never thought possible.
And so each Sunday, before I step into the pulpit, I will pause, breathe, and whisper once more: “Lord, be with my mouth and give me the words to say.”