Going Beyond My Comfort Zone
My childhood dream was to become an actress, so I was thrilled when my mom enrolled me in an acting class through the local Parks and Recreation Department. Each session was the highlight of my week until we had to perform a monologue showcasing what we had learned. Although I muddled through, intense feelings of embarrassment made me question my acting aspirations.
Later, I tried my hand (or voice) at singing in the middle school choir, but I quickly realized I was not cut out to be a pop star either. My natural talent was limited, and my pesky shyness reappeared whenever I performed a solo for the class.
Feeling bolder by senior year, I tried out for the school musical. My highest aspiration was only a bit part, but during the audition in front of four teachers, nervousness caused my voice to crack. I felt mortified.
I should have understood this about myself: although I love creative arts, I do not love being in the spotlight. Even having people sing "Happy Birthday" to me feels awkward. Still, a creative impulse continued to percolate in me throughout early adulthood, and it was a relief when it finally found joyful expression through writing. Writing allowed me to stay "behind the scenes," sculpting words with no one watching.
But when I decided to publish online in 2020, anxiety reared its ugly head again. Although I had mostly overcome my childhood self-consciousness to speak to groups about faith and lead Bible studies over the years, writing for the internet made me feel vulnerable in a new way. I expected the hardest part of blogging to be grammar or finding time to write. But the biggest challenge has been sending personal words into a hostile online world when I do not even know who will read them. It is a different kind of spotlight.
Radio interviews have been an even bigger challenge. Not only is there the invisible audience problem, but sometimes, the chats are unscripted, with no questions given in advance. Not knowing what I will be asked in a live interview is nerve-wracking, causing my childhood self-consciousness to roar back in full force.
Maybe Jonah had similar feelings when God commanded him to go to Ninevah. The cool kids did not go to big cities to proclaim an invisible God in the town square. Smart people did not risk the wrath of vicious mobs to announce coming destruction for anyone who did not repent and turn to God. The old prophet chose being thrown into an angry sea over warning people he judged unworthy of God's mercy and grace.
Jonah's reticence resonates with me even though I am not physically traveling to a hostile city or warning of impending doom when I publish an essay or speak on the radio. Whenever I put my life, faith, and stories in front of an unknown audience, I feel like that little girl at acting camp, stretched beyond my comfort zone. Running away sounds good at times.
One of my sons recently heard me groan after I opened my email to find another radio invitation. He (wisely) said, "You know, you don't have to do it." And he is right. I do not have to speak on the radio or publish a blog. No one is forcing me to share my faith through these platforms. I could write for my own worship and enjoyment, then hide it in a closet. That option would be way more comfortable and less anxiety-provoking.
And yet. . .
When Jesus visited his disciples after the resurrection, he gave them final instructions before ascending to heaven. In the "Great Commission," he urged his followers to go and tell others about him, make disciples, and teach them to obey (Matt. 28:16-20). The Bible also urges Christians to encourage the disheartened, warn the idle and disruptive, and help the weak (1 Thess. 5:14).
Those are the reasons I publish online. I love writing and want to share my joy and peace in Christ with others. Every Christian is called to share the good news and always be ready to give the reason for our hope (1 Pet. 3:15). He gives us all different ways to do it, but telling people our faith stories fulfills God's directive to build each other up in Christ, inspiring perseverance on the Godward journey.
Whether a college student telling a hallmate why they believe in Jesus, a professional encouraging a colleague at work, a parent answering a child's faith questions, or a stranger helping a hurting person in a doctor's waiting room – when an opportunity arises to give the reason for hope, it pleases God when we share it (Romans 1:11-12).
We do not always choose when or how the opportunities to tell our stories will come. When they do, it can be tempting to let obstacles and unpleasant emotions hold us back.
The moment I feel most vulnerable is right before I publish a new essay or speak on the radio. What helps me through is being less self-conscious and more God-conscious. My self-concern diminishes when I remember how Jesus stretched himself, spending three years on dusty roads seeking the lost before giving his life on the cross. Imagining what he endured for me makes it easier to sacrifice my self-protective desire to remain comfortably out of the spotlight.
As I focus on Jesus and pray, I am emboldened by gratitude that he made me part of his Story, and he equips me to share it without shame, hesitation, embarrassment, or insecurity.
Sharing how God has woven his Story into our lives gives hope, glorifies God, helps a hurting world, and encourages fellow sojourners. The telling may involve sacrificing comfort, pride, or personal safety. But when we recognize that passing along our hope in Christ is an offering, not a performance, it changes everything.
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