“Use your words,” the voice said.

My scrawny nine-year-old arms were firmly wrapped in a headlock around my archnemesis classmate, Chris. We had been arguing about whose dad was better at bowling. Obviously, we had lost our ability to talk it out.

“Use your words!” I heard the voice again, this time louder. And again, very firmly, “Use your words!”

Just then, I felt my mother’s firm hand grabbing hold of my collar. She turned me around like a bridled pony. I released Chris to his own fate; now I faced my own.

“Listen to me, Joel Weldon!” she punctuated. “If you don’t learn to use your words, you’ll be struggling like this your whole life!”

God used that moment to motivate me. And now, after years of training and research, I’ve enjoyed a long path in communication, first as a touring singer-songwriter, then as a voice actor and speaking coach. I have found that the path to improved speech is available to each of us. It didn’t come naturally to me. I struggled and needed to work hard. But once I realized the power God gives through voices (including yours), I was hooked forever.

How to Use Your Voice

Take a moment and consider your voice. Do you “use your words” effectively? Do people in your professional and personal circles listen well when you speak, or are they easily distracted and disengaged? In front of a crowd or your church, are you able to connect and communicate? Do you see people scrolling smartphones as you work through your outline? It’s a common problem these days.

Have you overlooked your marvelous gift: your voice? Many have. It is one of the most undervalued and misunderstood instruments God has given. “Death and life,” Scripture teaches, “are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits” (Proverbs 18:21). But some Christians do not speak more often of the Life they know because they do not like the sound of their voice. The majority perhaps feel stuck and insecure.

Even in biblical times, many doubted their voices. Even a prophet as great as Moses was “slow of speech,” and he knew it well (Exodus 4:10). His inability plundered his confidence such that he even argued with God over it, giving five reasons he was a terrible speaker and couldn’t return to Egypt. God answered his fears by graciously providing Aaron as his official mouthpiece.

But what about us today? Believe it or not, with a few simple tweaks, you can start to improve your voice, and access its God-given potential. But how? Whether I am coaching a fresh class of voice actors or a ministry staff at a church workshop, I like to start with three basic concepts for effective speaking.

1. Be aware of your headspace.

Your emotional state of mind and your attitude are discernible in your vocal delivery. It’s not enough to just fake it till you make it. If you force a broad smile while internally you’re upset over a recent argument, you will come across like a salesman pitching his newest cure-all potion. This holds true for everyday conversations all the way to standing on the largest stages. The audience doesn’t just analyze your words; they feel and respond. They may not even sense something amiss, but your message will not have the effect you intend if you don’t have the matching attitude underneath.

Knowing how to control and gift-wrap your speaking with appropriate attitude is like a superpower for your ideas. If you’re in any kind of ministry, the attitude you draw upon is founded in the mind of Christ, love for hearers, and a desire to glorify God. You consider your high task: “whoever speaks, as one who speaks oracles of God” (1 Peter 4:11).

Here’s a simple tip that I’ve used with countless students and clients. To give your mind and heart a reset prior to any conversation or talk, do a heart check. Is love for your listener (whether in personal conversation or speaking before many) a higher priority than what’s been distracting you? Is your desire for your audience that they truly hear and receive your words fully and powerfully? Then envision this simple formula: the word MISSION in all caps with the word me in lowercase set just underneath.

Write it on a note at your desk, in your notebook, in your Bible, on your iPad. It’s a simple perspective corrector. Yes, me is a part of the formula, but your MISSION is way more important than what others think of you, how effective your speaking is, or even your reputation. When your heart and mind are set on delivering your words for the good of others and the glory of God, rather than personal accolades, you’re reflecting the mind of Christ. And even if you stammer and fumble through much of your speech or sermon, your audience will still be moved by your very transparency, love, and care for them.

2. Stretch your voice.

From the time we’re cooing with our mother in the nursery and exchanging smiles and giggles, we are mirroring the world of speech and sound around us. We mimic; we copy; we try things we hear. That’s where regional accents and dialects come from. We’ve learned how to speak through immersive living and learning.

But something happens to many of us when we enter the world as adults. We throw our graduation caps in the air and enter adulting with the voices we’ve cultivated since birth. And then maybe we take a personality test that tells us who we are, replete with common personality traits and likes and dislikes. And we suddenly stop learning. We stop challenging ourselves in our areas of weakness. We allow someone else to define who we are and place a wall around our potential. Your voice is no exception. It needs some coaxing and training, but it can express and accomplish far more than most people realize.

Never stop learning how to maximize it. Consider the main sound elements of every voice that together make it interesting, even irresistible: pitch, pace, and projection.

PITCH

Remember the scene near the end of the movie Elf where Will Ferrell is reading his book to the kids in the library? “Past the sea of swirly gumdrops, and through the Lincoln Tunnel!” He animates his voice to give the story the big effects and exaggeration that children respond to so well. If you have kids, or you once were a kid, you know what I mean.

For some strange reason, we grow up and believe we need to lose the kid’s tone. But really, instead of discarding it, we need to adapt the same voice variety and character to mature material. Of course, the overexaggeration will be tamed a bit, but the voice should stay interesting to the listener. And pitch variety, or inflection, in your tone is a proven attention keeper.

Practice by reading aloud any material, pretending you’re reading it for children in a kindergarten class. Move your voice pitch up and down. Practice getting excited and letting your voice rise dramatically in pitch. The key is to feel free to play. Make it part of your alone time — while driving, walking, studying. Make recordings on your voice-memo app. You’ll begin to feel more freedom adding inflection to your daily speech.

PACE

How fast or slow do you typically speak? We each have a typical talking speed — fast or slow, choppy or smooth. Record yourself having a conversation with a friend or coworker (with permission). Listen back. It’s alright to feel awkward listening and evaluating yourself. It’s part of the understanding process. Start listening to other voices you like. At what pace do they talk? Why do you like them? Begin to notice how other voices make you feel and why.

Start adding silent space to your speaking as well. Most of us don’t take advantage of a good pregnant pause unless we practice it. So practice it.

PROJECTION

Projection, or volume, is a critical element in your sound. Some voices average a medium volume and don’t deviate enough from it. Much of your default voice tone is shaped by the family you grew up in. From the over-the-top energy of Italians and Ethiopians to the stoic, steady tones of Scandinavians and Canadians, your upbringing has affected you.

Part of learning fuller expression means breaking out of the comfort zone you’ve always known. It’s okay to go bigger sometimes, especially on something exciting or urgent. Then try taking it way down to almost a whisper, as if you’re speaking to just one person face-to-face.

If you’re using a microphone, use it to your advantage. Pull it close when speaking softly. Let the mic do the work. Then try getting bigger and more authoritative and back off the mic a bit. We are built to respond to dynamic speaking, and it is fitting that messengers of the gospel work at developing our voices to match the message.

3. Know your listeners.

This brings us to the third and final (yet perhaps most important) principle for effective voice expression.

In Colossians 4:6, Paul says, “Let your speech always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you ought to answer each person.” We have a responsibility to know our listeners and learn how to “season” our speech in a wise and compelling way so they will best hear us.

In the modern advertising world, the voices representing brands are cast and directed to sound authentic. Thus, there’s a common phrase on almost every voice script that comes my way: no announcers. In the new media market, the target audience is supposedly enlightened to the wiles of the old “announcer voice,” the voice that sounds like a staged, inauthentic paid spokesperson for a brand.

So, the modern world is full of messaging by all kinds of authentic-sounding voices, including AI voices. A perfect example would be a warm, friendly middle-aged “mom” voice speaking to other moms about the best snacks for kids. That type of voice selection reaches the target market.

In similar fashion — but for a far higher purpose — you need to bring the appropriate delivery for the moment and the mission at hand. You wouldn’t use your Will Ferrell, kindergarten voice for a board-room presentation or a sermon. From the account in Acts 17, we might assume the apostle Paul was an expert at reading the room, knowing how to connect with his words and his voice. If you’re instructing, you’ll use a more authoritative tone. If you’re counseling one to one, you’ll likely want to use a softer, sympathetic voice (coming from a sympathetic heart).

Go and Speak

As carriers of the good news, we remember that the truth is worth sharing through the best possible means. Write about it. Live it. Advance it. With humility and courage, use the voice God gives you to declare his name. And start a new journey to make your sound versatile and effective for every encounter, whether you’re preaching or having a heart-to-heart talk with your kids. You’ll find that with the Lord’s help, you’ll never stop learning and adding to your ability to speak.

As a final encouragement, practice. Out loud. Have fun doing it. Find physical spaces where you’re free to go big. And move the rest of your body to match your voice too. And when your spouse interrupts your practice time and asks, “What in the world are you doing?” you can simply say, “I’m using my words.”

I keep hearing stories about young couples who do not want children.

Many are refusing kids for no better reason than preference (a euphemism for selfishness). Articles are written of lonely grandparent-age adults who “empowered” their kids to chase their career ambitions (and to neglect having children), and now are no grandparents at all. They feel something missing. You can’t read books or play catch or have sleepovers with a new boat. You don’t hang pictures of your country club on the fridge. But that is what their successful children have to offer.

The last name seems close to becoming an endangered species. We live for first names — it is John, just John — as if we came from nothing and have nothing to extend. These couples seem content to be the end of a family tree that branches no farther than them — all their ancestry leading, fortunately for them, to their personal happiness, vacations, and easy retirement. You only live once, you know; why spend it on children? If we want companionship, get a dog.

Now contrast this portrait of living for us and our first names with the alternative (men, pay close attention to your part):

Man rises above time. He can grasp his existence, he can see it in the context of a family that extends far into the past and will extend far into the future. And it is more than a blood relationship. It is also cultural: there is a sense in which he can say, We are the Smiths, and mean to include not only persons but their histories and their way of life. The father is the key to this transcendence. Think. Forget the slogans, the ideology of sexual indifference, and face what is real. A child’s connection with his mother requires no explanation. Body depends upon body. It is the father who requires explanation. (Anthony Esolen, No Apologies, 127)

Living by yourself, for yourself, requires no explanation. Living for money, for fame, for personal gratification requires no explanation. But to birth and guide and nurture immortal souls, to live and build a name and family history that transcends you, to bow as a foundation stone to a new way of living for Christ or to place your stone upon a pile already stacked — especially as a man, Esolen argues — requires explanation.

Generation of First Names

One of the most famous discussions about names shows the difference between living for one’s first or last name. What’s in a name? lovesick Juliet asks. Thinking upon her Romeo, the forbidden son of the rival Montague family, she sighs that the romance should remain a dream because of a last name. If he had another, they could be together. “’Tis but thy name that is my enemy,” she reasons upon her balcony.

What’s Montague? It is not hand, nor foot,Nor arm, nor face, nor any other partBelonging to a man. O, be some other name!What’s in a name? That which we call a roseBy any other word would smell as sweet. (2.2.41–47)

An arm is not a name. A smile is not a name. A man is not a name. A rose, whatever you call it, still smells as sweet, still looks as fair. Call the flower crimsonella, and the thorny stem and red petals remain. In a world of ever-expanding names to keep pace with our so-called ever-evolving self, we are tempted to ask the same question — what’s really in anything but a first name?

Teenage Juliet spoke of last names as arbitrary symbols keeping her from her desire. Reality, to her, remained untouched by swapping one label for another. In one sense, this is true. God, the first namer, could have called the waters “land” and the lands “water,” the moon “sun” and the sun “moon,” the night “day” and the day “night.” Adam, likewise, could have called the tiger “zebra” to no effect on either’s stripes.

“We are Christians, a people who have the Father’s name and Lamb’s name written on our foreheads.”

But her elders knew that more lay in the personal name Montague. For the elder Montagues, history lay in the name — deeds done, and deeds done against. Honor or shame was bound in the name, and bitter enmity too. More than a name lived in Montague; a past did too, ground as sacred as the graves of buried ancestors. To them, that name held something larger and older and deeper than a fleeting teenage infatuation. Montague was a body with different parts, a tree with different branches, something that outlived and outweighed the individual. A family name not to be cheaply sold as Esau’s birthright.

Erased from Earth

The spirit of Western individualism inclines us toward our own balconies, happy to cast lineage — or even biology — aside for personal desire. Each is his own author, his own alpha and omega. Families and their names are mere formalities when roadblocks to personal happiness or self-definition.

But most in the past (as well as many today in the East) did not think this way. A lot was in a name; they valued genealogies. Hear the blessing that God promises Abraham: “I will bless you and make your name great” (Genesis 12:2). Great, that is, not through his life alone, but through the lives of his offspring. Conversely, a chief curse in Israel was to “blot out [one’s] name from under heaven” (Deuteronomy 29:20). We do not know enough to rejoice in the benediction or shiver at the warning. How was a name blotted out? Overhear Saul pleading with David, “Swear to me . . . by the Lord that you will not cut off my offspring after me, and that you will not destroy my name out of my father’s house” (1 Samuel 24:21).

To have your name blotted from heaven usually meant to have your lineage end (especially without a male offspring), leaving no continuance of your memory under heaven. “Absalom in his lifetime had taken and set up for himself the pillar that is in the King’s Valley.” Why make this pillar? “For he said, ‘I have no son to keep my name in remembrance’” (2 Samuel 18:18). Declining birth rates tell of a people building pillars in the valley because they don’t prefer sons. Yet to be finally erased from earth — physically in death, and intangibly in name — often resulted, in the Old Testament, from God’s wrath.

In that day, your name was your memory, a thread of immortality, a part of you that lived on earth after death. Solomon used “memory” and “name” interchangeably: “The memory of the righteous is a blessing, but the name of the wicked will rot” (Proverbs 10:7). The memory of the righteous man would live on as a blessing to his children, but the name of the wicked would rot and be forgotten. Juliet was right: Montague was not a hand or a foot — flesh and blood were mortal. But a name blessed of God lives forever.

Names in Heaven

The modern story has become no larger than our personal stories. We clamor to write our autobiographies — of our triumphs, oppressions, abuses, sexuality, freedoms. Self-consciousness, self-determinism, and self-expression are inalienable rights. We build to the heavens to make names for ourselves. Family, legacy, past generations, future — what of it? It’s Romeo, just Romeo. We are a people of first names. God, come confuse our speech to cure our madness.

But (and this narrows the point) we are not mere collectivists; we are Christians. Idolatry can be both self-absorbed or family-consumed. A people can refuse the only name given among men by which they must be saved in favor of their first name or their last. Our great hope is not in any name we have, but in the name of Jesus Christ, who, for his great name’s sake, has acted to save us.

We care about our children and future generations because we care about Christ. We care about our last names because we want a household to serve the name of Jesus Christ. What we labor to build is no Babel to either of our names, but a spiritual legacy to his. What is a Smith, a Morse, a Melekin, or a Montague? What is a Johnson or Jerome compared with Jesus? His is the name raised far “above every name that is named, not only in this age but also in the one to come” (Ephesians 1:21). “On his robe and on his thigh he has a name written, King of kings and Lord of lords” (Revelation 19:16). Those in hell live to curse this name (Revelation 16:9); we love his name, bless his name, hallow his name.

Jewels in His Crown

Before his name, all names shrink into obscurity. What is really in a name? Only that which finds its place next to his. He alone bestows upon us that name worth having beyond death; he alone makes his sons into his pillars:

The one who conquers, I will make him a pillar in the temple of my God. Never shall he go out of it, and I will write on him the name of my God, and the name of the city of my God, the new Jerusalem, which comes down from my God out of heaven, and my own new name. (Revelation 3:12)

We are Christians, a people who have the Father’s name and Lamb’s name written on our foreheads, inscribed by the Spirit of God (Revelation 14:1; 22:4). He names us sons, daughters, citizens, saints, children, conquerors. We name him Lord, Savior, Groom, Master, Friend. We live to bring all glory to his name. We raise families, not simply for our family name, but (we pray) for his. We live and breathe and have our being in relation to his name. It is our sun by day, our North Star by night. Our names shine as diadems set within his crown, as spoils from his victory, as letters written in his book recording his great triumph — “the book of life of the Lamb who was slain” (Revelation 13:8).

For a certain kind of Christian, assurance of salvation can feel as fickle as a winter sun. Here and there, the sky shines blue and bright, filling the soul with light. Far more often, however, the days are mostly cloudy, the sun shadowed with uncertainty. And then sometimes, the sky goes gray for weeks on end, and the heart walks heavily under the darkness of doubt.

From the outside, such Christians may seem to bear much spiritual fruit: friends may mark the grace in their lives, accountability partners may encourage them, pastors may find no reason to question their faith. But for those under the clouds, even healthy fruit can look pale and sick. So even as they read their Bible, pray, gather with God’s people, witness, and confess their sins, they usually find some reason to wonder if they really belong to Christ.

How does assurance sink into the heart and psyche of those prone to second-guess? The Holy Spirit has many ways of nourishing confidence in his people — not least by teaching us to recognize the fruit he bears. But for the overly scrupulous among us, for whom personal holiness always seems uncertain, the Spirit also does more: he lifts our eyes above the clouds to show us God’s unchanging character.

Among the divine qualities he uses to nurture our assurance, we may find one surprising: God’s infinite commitment to his glory.

For the Sake of His Name

At first, God’s commitment to his glory may seem to weaken, not strengthen, a doubting Christian’s assurance. If God does everything “to the praise of his glory” (Ephesians 1:14), for the fame of his name, what hope do we have — we who daily fall short of that glory, who often dishonor that name? We would need to find assurance elsewhere, it would seem.

Yet those who pay attention will find God’s zeal for his name running like a silver thread of hope through all the Scriptures. When Israel’s army fell before Ai, “What will you do for your great name?” was Joshua’s cry (Joshua 7:9). When the nation sinned by demanding a human king, Samuel assured the fearful, “The Lord will not forsake his people, for his great name’s sake” (1 Samuel 12:22). When, later, Israel teetered on the brink of exile, Jeremiah pleaded, “Do not spurn us, for your name’s sake” (Jeremiah 14:21). And when the nation languished in Babylon, Daniel grounded his bold prayers on “your name” (Daniel 9:19).

Again and again, the guilty people of God appeal not only to God’s mercy, but to his unflinching allegiance to his glory. Save us, restore us, keep us, defend us — and do it for the sake of your name! So what did they know about God’s name that we may not?

His People, Their God

First, they knew that God, in unspeakable mercy, had condescended to put his name upon his people (Numbers 6:27). By making a covenant with Israel — taking them as his people, pledging himself as their God — he wrapped up his glory with their good; he wove his fame together with their future.

The surrounding nations knew, as Daniel prayed, that “your city and your people are called by your name” (Daniel 9:19). And so, when God lifted up his people, he lifted up his name; when God helped his people, he hallowed his name. Through Israel’s welfare, he trumpeted his own worth, showing himself as the only living God in a world of lifeless idols.

No doubt, God’s name proved useless to those who presumed upon it, who chanted “The Lord! The Lord!” so they could keep sinning in safety (Jeremiah 7:8–15). When Israel’s unrepentant ran to God’s name for refuge, they found the door locked. But for the humble repentant, God’s name stood like the strongest tower (Proverbs 18:10). They might be sinful and unworthy in themselves, but God had given them his name — and for the sake of that name they found mercy, forgiveness, safety, and help.

“The name of God is the hand of God reaching down to helpless sinners, bidding them to grab on and not let go.”

John Owen writes, “God in a covenant gives those holy properties of his nature unto his creature, as his hand or arm for him to lay hold upon, and by them to plead and argue with him” (Works, 6:471). The name of God is the hand of God reaching down to helpless sinners, bidding them to grab on and not let go.

The Lord, the Lord

Second, these saints knew something about God’s name that would have been too wonderful to believe if God himself had not revealed it: at the heart of God’s name is not only the glory of greatness, but the glory of grace.

When the Lord himself “proclaimed the name of the Lord” to Moses (Exodus 34:5), here is what he said:

The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin, but who will by no means clear the guilty. (Exodus 34:6–7)

To be sure, God is zealous to display the glory of his greatness — his holiness, his power, his authority, his eternity. When he raised up Pharaoh, for example, “so that my name may be proclaimed in all the earth” (Exodus 9:16), he wanted all nations to tremble before the plague-sending, tyrant-crushing, slave-freeing God of Israel. He is “the great, the mighty, and the awesome God” (Deuteronomy 10:17).

Yet, as God reveals to Moses, he is not content merely to show the glory of his greatness; he also exalts the glory of his grace — his kindness, his patience, his abounding love and faithfulness. Unlike so many gods of the nations, mercy, and not only might, sits on the throne of his glory. Well then might we say with Micah, “Who is a God like you, pardoning iniquity and passing over transgression” (Micah 7:18) — and who glorifies his name by showing grace?

But we can say even more. For in the fullness of time, God lifted up his name in a way wholly unexpected, altogether glorious: by lifting up his Son.

Assurance in Every Syllable

When God sent his Son into the world, he sent him with a name — with many names, in fact. And in his mercy, God was pleased to inscribe assurance in nearly every syllable.

Some of Jesus’s names do speak directly of his greatness, calling forth fearful awe. He is the Lord who commands creation, the King who rules the nations, the Judge who sifts men’s hearts, the Holy One who terrifies demons. But in line with the revelation of God’s name to Moses, so many of Jesus’s names testify to the glory of his grace.

For how will he get glory as Savior unless he saves the utterly lost to the uttermost? How will he get glory as servant unless he bends to wash our filthy feet? Or how will he get glory as redeemer unless he sets the captives free?

As Lamb of God, his glory rests on cleansing the worst sins with his most-worthy blood. As bridegroom, his glory shines in the forgiven splendor of his bride. And as the way, his glory leads lost sinners home.

Now, as heavenly advocate, he glories to bear our names in his scars. As head of the body, he gloriously nourishes and cherishes his members below. And as founder and perfecter, his glory redounds when he finishes the faith he begins.

“This Jesus will not lose one jewel in his crown of names.”

We could go on, showing how the glory in the names propitiation, bread of life, light of the world, and more is a glory made for sinners’ good. This Jesus will not lose one jewel in his crown of names. He will not let his glory as mediator be diminished by one lost case, or his glory as shepherd be tarnished by one devoured sheep, or his glory as high priest be brought low by one needy, trusting sinner left without help.

Such names shine like so many suns in the sky above, each a burning assurance meant to chase away our clouds.

His Glorious Grace

Now, knowing that God saves sinners for his name’s sake may not resolve all our doubts. After lifting our eyes to such unclouded skies, we may lower them again upon a world of gray, wondering if God is saving us for his name’s sake. So how might this sight of God’s character help the hesitating soul?

First, simply fixing our gaze on God rather than self may do much to nurture spiritual health. If we often live in the cellar of the soul, trying to judge our spiritual fruit in the dim light of scrupulous introspection, long and regular looks at God may lift us into sun-lit skies, where for a few wonderful moments we forget ourselves, and then perhaps dare to believe that the light of this God can swallow any darkness, even ours.

Second, meditating on God’s grace-filled commitment to his name may remove the deep, subconscious suspicion that God’s glory and our salvation are somehow at odds. We may begin to feel, and not only say, that this shepherd would rejoice to carry us home upon his shoulders, that this father would run to see our silhouette on the horizon.

If you want a deeper sense of assurance, then, by all means keep killing your sin and pursuing the holiness “without which no one will see the Lord” (Hebrews 12:14). But also labor to travel often above the clouds, where you remember that God created this world not only “to the praise of his glory,” but “to the praise of his glorious grace” (Ephesians 1:6, 14). And therefore, all of God’s zeal for his glory, all of God’s love for his name, stands behind the sinner who casts his soul on Christ.