Never Trade Your Voice

“A woman doesn't know how powerful her voice is until she has been silenced.”  

Ursula, The Little Mermaid

“Jesus, would You give me a dream about moving to Southeast Asia?” It was my last thought before I drifted off to sleep that Saturday night. 

Next I knew, I was walking up the stairs at the front of my church, microphone in hand. I drew a slow breath and looked out at a blurry audience.

“In the movie The Little Mermaid, Ariel makes a deal with the enemy where she trades her voice in exchange for something she really wants.” 

I paused, my heart quivering under the urgency of the next part.  

“Your voice is the most important thing you have. Your voice makes the heart of God beat faster. No matter what— no matter how hard it gets— you are never, never, never to trade your voice.” 

My hands trembled. It was the fear of God, not man.

I grew loud and impassioned, shouting with authority that caught me off guard. I went on and on, preaching about the overwhelming value of a voice. I broke into bold, fervent prayer.

As I ended my prayer, I looked up at the audience. One by one, I locked eyes with the other missionaries I worked with, and a wave of shame and self-doubt nearly knocked me over. I was too loud, I was too female, I was out of line with my boldness. I hung my head in embarrassment, set my microphone down, and slipped out the side door.  

I jolted awake in my bed. Immediately, I heard the nearly audible tune of The Little Mermaid getting her voice back. My head whirled, and I knew it was one of the most significant dreams I’d ever had.

That morning, I found myself on the front row of my Southern Baptist church. The pastor preached on the importance of prayer in light of the coming election. Then suddenly, this soft-spoken man began to shout: 

“Use your voice! Church, use your voice! Use your words!” 

The whole room went pin-drop quiet, except for the sound of my heart pounding in my ears.

My mind raced all afternoon, puzzling over my dream. I tried on the metaphor a hundred different ways, until finally I understood. 

The Little Mermaid traded her voice for legs. 

She swore herself to silence so she could go wherever she wanted to go.  

“Does that mean I shouldn’t go, God?” But it seemed that staying in America would be trading my voice, too.

“Then what, God? What should I do?” 

With time and prayer, I began to see it. There was a better way for this restless Disney princess– her heart tethered to a far-away land. The problem wasn’t that she wanted to go— the problem was that she bartered with the enemy for something her father could freely give her.  

But there was another line from my dream that turned over and over again in my mind. A rock in a tumbler, slowly becoming beautiful. 

“Never trade your voice.” Not “never have your voice stolen,” or “never give your voice away,” but never trade it. With trading came a choice, because not all things can be taken without permission.

Three years later, it all made perfect sense. 

But in the meantime, I held space for a vague but serious urging not to trade my voice. I didn’t know what it meant, but I knew it was one of the most profound things God had ever told me. I prayed often for insight, but God only gave me confirmation— so very many confirmations. And so it grew in a sort of savings account in my spirit, gaining interest and momentum, compounding over and over again, increasing exponentially for the day I would cash it in. And when the time to withdraw it came, I needed every penny.