In high school, I was one of the “smart” girls. I was not known for being pretty, athletic, artsy, funny, etc. I was known for being smart. And it’s why people liked me. The teachers liked me because I made them look good. Students liked me because I could help them out. And slowly, it became why I liked me. I was smart. It defined me. But I wanted more than to just be “one of the smart kids”—I wanted to be the smartest. I thought that if I was the best at something, then I had “made it.” I wasn’t just an average, overlooked girl.
Being in the “smart-kid classes,” I remember thinking to myself that there was nothing that I was the “best” at. Sure, I was a little above average, but there were plenty of smarter kids than me in my classes. I felt average, and I thought that if I was average, I simply was not good enough. Then, one day, my preacher said, “You might not be the best at anything in this world, but you can be the best at loving God.” You would think that statement hit me like a ton of bricks. And it did, but I eventually fell back into the trap.
I went to college and graduated at the top of my class. I was proud of myself as I went off to graduate school in Virginia, only to humbly admit that I couldn’t live there after one semester. The loneliness, foreign places, and little job prospects sent me crawling back to my family in Tennessee. Then, I realized I was doing nothing. I was not in school, I didn’t have a job, and I felt worthless. So I threw myself into applications. I applied for doctorate programs and master’s programs. Eventually, I ended up at the University of Tennessee. I was getting my master's in Political Science. Again, I finally felt pride.
When starting my graduate program, my mental health took a really bad turn. I was overwhelmed from fighting OCD, going to school, planning a wedding, and trying to be the best I could be in every area of not only my life but of all those around me. A professor told my class that if we were to get a B, then we had no business being in graduate school. My second semester in, that same professor gave me a B.
Now, at this point, I had received a total of four Bs in my life ranging from elementary school through my Bachelor’s. And in one semester of graduate school, I managed to put two more on that list. To be candid, I only just found out about these two B’s 30 minutes ago. So, I invite you, friend and reader, to walk through these emotions with me as I reflect on the truth that I know God has shared with me.
I wish I had believed this as a teenager. I wish a part of me did not still believe it now. A few days ago, I was flipping through my Bible and stopped on a verse I had noted a few years ago:
“Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were uneducated, common men, they were astonished. And they recognized that they had been with Jesus.” Acts 4:13
I know now why God reminded me of this verse. He was preparing my heart for a transformation. God was and is telling me that it is okay to be ordinary in the eyes of this world. In fact, it’s better than okay. Because when you are ordinary by worldly standards, anything extraordinary that you do will show people that you have been walking with Jesus.
I believed that being an “average” person was a bad thing. But God does not look at me and see “average.” God looks at me and sees someone He believed was worthy enough for His Son to die for. I can believe the lie that my worth is measured on an earthly scale for as long as I live. But when I leave this world and I meet face-to-face the Man who died for me, it will not matter what grades I made. It will not matter that my name did not pop into anyone’s head when thinking “Who’s the best at _______.” All that will matter is that my Jesus gave me worth. I cannot earn it. I cannot get rid of it. It is a gift.
I am not sure what you are trying to accomplish in life. I don't know where you feel like you are less than enough. But, what I do know is that when I look at myself in an earthly sense, I see average. But when I look at myself through the eyes of my Father, I see worthy, forgiven, and purposeful.
As I write this, I can genuinely say that I have no clue what God’s plan for me is. Will I even use the degrees that I let measure my worth for so long? Maybe, maybe not. But I do know that My Father’s plans are good. I know I have a purpose that is uniquely mine and even though it may be of little worth to this world, I know that it is of great value to the Kingdom of God. And it turns out that being in a place of humility while confident in one’s Creator is the most purposeful and special place you can be.
This one can be a little tough to grasp. You know yourself best. You spend the most time with you. But I would like you to answer this: do you know how many hairs are on your head? God does (Luke 12:7). Do you know the plans for your future? God does (Jeremiah 29:11). In fact, the Bible tells us that when we as humans can only groan because we cannot put our sorrows and anguish into words, the Holy Spirit intercedes for us and takes our prayers to God (Romans 8:26-27).
As well as you may believe you know yourself, I encourage you to embrace the truth that you do not know you as well as God knows you. You are not your own creation, and if you are a redeemed follower of Christ, your life is not your own to measure. It can be a humbling concept to grasp, but you are not in a place to measure your worth. God measured it when He sent His son to die for you. You are not powerful enough to remeasure it. If you have accepted salvation, nothing you ever do will replace the blood of Christ that covers you and makes you worthy, whole, and “good enough.” So, dear friend, stop trying. Stop reaching to be at the top and, instead, look around at where God has you now. You do not have to be the best at anything to be welcomed into the Kingdom of God.
Photo Credit: ©Getty Images/Matt Benoit
Olivia Lauren is a graduate student passionate about Scripture, particularly the Book of Romans showcasing God's grace. Outside her studies, she enjoys teaching her dog new tricks and finding quicker ways to silence the smoke alarm after trying a new recipe.