One click. It was gone. Gone. The Honors presentation I had spent long hours creating had vanished. I had closed out without saving my powerpoint and what remained was a rough skeleton of a presentation. Stunned, I couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it. It was less than 24 hours before my Honors Panel Presentation during the Spring semester of my senior year at TCU.
In a panic, I rushed to my husband blabbering my mistake and begging him to bring it back, to fix it. But, it was lost. Furious and helpless, I found myself re-creating my presentation into the wee hours of the morning. Of all the days to pull an all-nighter, the night before your BIG presentation is not ideal.
How many times did I shame myself for my mistake? How many times did I wonder why the program didn’t ask me if I wanted to save it before closing? Or did it? I don’t think it did… but I will never know.
It just happened…and I was powerless to do anything about it.
During my last year at TCU, the achiever in me prompted me to ask one of my Instructors about how I could graduate with honors. Excited for a new challenge, I accepted an Honors research project connected with the local Meals on Wheels and worked diligently to compile the research and apply the data for the non-profit. To be honest, it wasn’t the most interesting research project, but I was thrilled to have had a little taste of the research arena and I was even more excited about the privilege of holding the “Honors” title.
I admit I was in it for the recognition, achievement and personal satisfaction of going above and beyond. My opinion was clear: “Who wants to be average if you can be exceptional?”
Sitting there at my make-shift desk, a sofa table passing for a desk due to our practically non-existent student budget, I didn’t feel exceptional. In fact, I felt exhausted, overwhelmed, inadequate. The class projects, clinicals, tests, and presentations were piling up and I simply needed to finish this presentation so that I could prepare my actual verbal dialog.
The fear of standing in front of an Honors Panel was already great, but now doing it without adequate time to prepare my 20-minute talk was almost paralyzing.
That night I got a short nap, but that is about it. I remember sitting in my car in the student parking lot, reviewing my slides and notes. It was awful! Listening to myself stumble over words, forget important facts, screw up my timing, I was so scared of how I would embarrass myself and my amazing instructors.
And then I prayed. I probably threw up dozens of “panic” prayers after that wretched disaster the night before, but I am not sure I ever really surrendered. I don’t think I ever allowed myself to own the mistake and admit my weakness. I was so busy trying to escape the disaster, run from the fear, and avoid the gnawing insecurity, that I never fully surrendered to the only One who could rescue me.
In that moment in my car, pages of notes sprawled out, with red, heavy, tired eyes, and with nothing else that could be done, I surrendered.
It is such a vulnerable place, so intimate, so revealing- to recognize and repent of my arrogance in thinking I could power through in my own strength. I wasn’t strong enough, good enough, exceptional enough. Never would be, on my own.
With all tenderness and love, I was reminded,
“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”
It doesn’t really make sense…to think that my acknowledgment of complete and utter weakness and inadequacy was the door that could usher in great power and strength. Throwing off the mask hiding my deep-seeded insecurities for acceptance, giving up my desire to impress and admitting my heart-wrenching fear of bombing such an important presentation was actually a pivotal moment.
That walk to the Honors Hall was long. I remember it was a beautiful day- blue skies, fluffy white clouds, vibrant, green trees blowing in the breeze, and the warm Texas sun warming my skin with every step.
I remember having the cliche’ thought that I would just “do my best” and believe that it would be enough. I would honor God with a surrendered heart.
And would it be enough? Well, I realized it depended on who I was living to honor. I could strive all my life and never “be enough” for titles, accolades, and awards. But, I am always good enough for my Heavenly Daddy. He affirms and praises without reserve. He lavishes love. He calls me “daughter”- with a smile on His face.
Often I struggle with moving into striving mode, but every time I do, I limit myself. His power only comes in my weakness. When I recognize I can’t do it alone, and that His supernatural is absolutely necessary, that is when He shows off!
My presentation went remarkably well- not perfect, but well. I flowed over most of my words with ease, mentioning the key facts, using some inflection and hitting my 20-minute time limit perfectly. The audience questions I had dreaded were answered clearly and concisely. I don’t recall any special feelings while I was standing before the panel- there were still butterflies fluttering all through my stomach, but there was also this indescribable innate sense of peace and calm that hadn’t been there just an hour before.
No award- I didn’t win. But I got something much better than a prize. I learned the source of my power and strength. I learned the gift of surrender. I learned that “when I am weak, only then I am strong.” I learned the GREATNESS of my Daddy’s love for me. And somehow, that was enough.
TRUTH: But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.
2 Corinthians 12:9-10 (NIV)