One day I was sitting around the office going over editorial details with my boss, Jon. He was sitting on the sofa, strumming a guitar while throwing out ideas. Pastor Rick strolled in, picked up another guitar and joined the meeting. What followed was one of the most creative “idea-throwing” sessions I’ve ever been a part of in my communications career. The conversation was golden, and there was so much wisdom flying through the air, I felt like I was sitting at the feet of sages.
I must have looked contemplative as we were wrapping up because Rick asked me what I was thinking.
“I’m wondering what I’m doing here in this room,” I responded honestly. “I mean, how did I get here? There are moments—like right now—that I don’t feel qualified to be here.”
Rick looked me square in the eyes and said something I’ll never forget. “Sure, there are people who might be more qualified than you to do this job. But you’re not here just because of your qualifications. You’re here because of your willingness to be used by God.
“You’re here because you’ll do what he asks,” he continued, “and because you’re willing to do anything, he put you here.” Getting to his feet, he smiled and said matter-of-factly, “A willing heart that will do whatever God asks is the greatest qualification a person can have.” Then he perched the guitar on its stand and walked out of the room.
That was a few years ago.
The self-doubter in me—the one who lives in a small corner of my heart and makes snide remarks and ridicules me—sometimes still shows up. “Who are you to think you can do something like that?” she whispers in my ear. She makes me feel like a fraud. Like at any moment, someone is going to rush in and say, “What’s that girl doing here? She’s deceived us all—she’s an imposter. Off with her head!”
Or some such nonsense.
Usually I stick my tongue out at her leaving my “nothing is impossible” kind of faith intact because I really do believe I can do anything through Christ when he divinely empowers me to do it. But sometimes, I listen to her when she says, “If you really believed that, then you could be the brightest, most capable woman in the world.” Then I feel like a fraud, because I know I am not the brightest, most capable woman in the world, and I never will be.
That’s when I start fighting battles I won a long time ago. Plagued with insecurities I thought were long gone, I even start questioning my ability to construct an understandable sentence on an empty page.
Then I remember that conversation with Pastor Rick.
I forget about everything but having a willing heart. I look for it, and when I find it, I do the only thing I know to do—run hard after God and offer it up to him like a long-lost prodigal who has found her way to the page again.
When he takes it from my hands, I find the trust I carelessly misplaced; I tuck it back into my pocket, where it feels safe and warm. And I know with every fiber of my being that he knows who I am. If he gives me a job to do and a page to write, then he’ll give me the goods I need to get the job done.
Adapted from Life’s Too Short to Miss the Big Picture for Women , Leafwood Press, available at Amazon.com.