Failing Forward

I’m afraid to fail.  There it is, in print, my greatest fear in life.  I’m afraid to fail as a mom, as a wife, as a pastor and as a human being.

Sadly, there have been seasons of my life where this fear has been an asset and I’ve learned to rely on it.  For example, church plants have an 80% failure rate.  Logic might suggest that statistic alone disqualifies me as a church planter.  Instead, it became the perfect driver.  We set out to plant a church and I refused to fail because that would have been more than I could bear.

At a conference in Nashville two weeks ago, we talked about the dangers of leading out of our fears versus our true self (true self defined as, “the me that is essentially me, uniquely reflecting God’s merciful, undeserved presence inside of me”).  I had a lightbulb moment, realizing just how much I had been leading out of my fear of failure.  I had become paralyzed, unable to make decisions in case that decision became the decision that led to a failure.  I was pleasing people to build a hedge of protection in case I did fail and I needed people to love me so much that they wouldn’t be able to see it.  I was so busy worrying about what I thought I could control that I forgot Who is in control.

Craig Groeschel once said, “Be careful not to take too much blame for your failures or you’ll be tempted to take too much credit for your success.”  Wowzers!

Here’s the deal, I can’t allow fear to call the shots.  Especially when the thing that I fear is inevitable.  I will fail.  I have failed.  I do fail.

His grace is enough.  It’s time to go big!

2 Timothy 1:7 – “God has not given us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, love and self-control!”

More vs. Better

I left my office yesterday at 2:15.

It was a bold move considering the piles of unfinished work on my desk, the volume of e-mails beckoning for a response, and the staff watching dumbfounded as I walked away with unanswered questions still hanging in the air.

I went home, put on sneakers and ran out the door.  The air was cool, the sun was shining and in no time I was gasping for breath…yes, I’m that out of shape.  But, man, it felt so good.

For weeks, months really, I’ve been exhausted and irritable and straining for more time to work, more time to clean and more time to snuggle close with my boys.  There’s just never enough.  And the larger the deficit grows, the more my faith stumbles and my confidence shakes.

“I’m a terrible mom.”  “I’m a lousy pastor.” “Clark must think I’ve lost my mind.” And so runs the ongoing parade of negativity in my mind.

But yesterday I stopped and I realized something – that moment of “stop” was the most productive time I’d had in weeks.

“Be still and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10

We have two options – we can work more or work better.  I’ll never have all the time I need to do all the things I want to do, but if I can start with things like rest, prayer, exercise and good food than all the time I spend doing everything else will be better time, productive time, present time.

It’s not about working more, it’s about working better.  It’s not about needing more, it’s about needing better.  It’s not even about loving more, it’s about loving better.

How do you fight the more vs. better debate?  What do you need to prioritize so you can be better at the things you do?

 

(Oh, and as an added bonus, check out Ann Voskamp’s incredible post from yesterday!)

Made for this

I stood there sweating with adrenaline pounding in my veins and my heart smiled.  I was made for this.

This morning I had the privilege of speaking to about 120 6th-12th graders at a Christian academy in Moncks Corner, South Carolina.  They’re having a week-long “Awakening” and I was asked to help kick it off.  I was excited about it until I realized I had agreed to drive 45 minutes away first-thing on a Monday morning.  I don’t know if you know this, but Monday comes after Sunday – enough said.

I was tired, feeling under-prepared and not sure if I had chosen the right outfit (chick problems).  But then I got there, we started to worship, I got up to speak, and something happened that always happens – God made me come alive!  For the next 25 minutes every move, every word, every facial expression and gesture seemed obvious and happened without conscious thought.  The power came through me and I felt like the cord that connects the power source to the light bulb.  Before I started, my notes were boring and my energy level was bottomed out, but then it happened and when it was over I thought for the 1,000th time, I was made for this.

I spend the majority of my work week doing things that aren’t speaking or even directly preparing to speak.  A lot of the time those things wear me out and make me question if I’m really doing what I’m supposed to be doing.  But then other times, I get to stand in front of a group of tired teenagers only too aware that there isn’t enough charisma in the world to capture their attention…and then God shows up.  And somehow, amazingly, incredibly, I get to be part of it.

I was made for this.