Strength Is Enough - Just Not Yours.
I’ve studied the process of making sugar, scorpion bites, sailing, coconuts, island survival methods, horseback riding, horse thieving, hair dye in the early 1800s, highwaymen, the game of cricket, cane toads, pirates, the now-extinct land pike lizards, foxglove, poisons, and, most recently, ballet positions and opera techniques. I know just enough to be dangerous. I’m not an expert in anything, but I enjoy researching and learning. Such an enjoyment comes in handy as a historical author, because I have to dive in and spend hours to months learning about different time periods, cultures, and era-specific jargon.
Learning all these different subjects has taught me how little I know. Reviewers often will set me straight regarding my horse knowledge or because I wrote the Viscount of Everly instead of Viscount Everly. I try my best, but there will always be something I don’t know or just mess up.
My son’s wrestling helped me gain peace with my inability to become an expert. He’s been training for wrestling since the fourth grade, and he’s made school history with over 100 wins. At this one 2-day New England tournament, there were a few higher-ranked kids that he had to wrestle.
The first day, I was a mess. As my son stretched and warmed up, I watched his opponent prowl back and forth along the edge of the mat, beating his chest and thighs to activate the muscles. How that boy weighed in the same as my lanky son is unfathomable. When the ref was ready, he rushed in and crouched low with his hand extended for a handshake, but he looked ready to rip Matty’s arm off and eat it like a chicken wing.
The match began and my watch buzzed, thinking I’m exercising because my heart rate jumped 100 beats higher. This beast-like opponent folded my precious baby boy into a pretzel, but Matty reversed it and pinned the kid. In his next match, I could tell Matty was nervous, and from what his opponent’s coach said, it was obvious they’d been studying Matty’s technique. Matty faced a similar scenario, but this time he made an error and lost by points. If he lost again, he’d be out of the tournament, but he wrestled two more matches and won. We were to come back for a second day, except I’m wound tighter than an eight-day clock, and my watch is ready to call Life Alert.
Early the following morning, I opened my devotional, as I usually do while I eat breakfast, and God, in His goodness, fed me what I needed to hear to get through the day. Our own strength has limits, but God is all-powerful. He goes before us and makes a way. He sustains us with His righteous right hand. He fights for us, and it’s not in our strength but in His. I could relax because my son wrestled in God’s strength, not his own.
This time, as my son willingly stepped onto the mat and as I stared at another beast of an opponent, my watch didn’t go off, I didn’t break out in a sweat, nor did swarms of butterflies hatch in my stomach. I just prayed, “God, it’s in Your strength.” Matty went on to win two more matches and lost his third, but was pleased at how far he’d made it. The next weekend, Matty wrestled the guy who had beaten the two kids Matty lost to, and Matty pinned him. I was so excited I forgot to turn off my camera. There’s crazy footage of me screaming like a banshee, jumping up and down, videoing the mat, then the ceiling, and all the people I hugged.
God doesn’t expect perfection. He’s not looking for us to be experts before we walk in His purpose for our lives. He’s looking for willing hearts that have faith in His power. If my son only practiced and never signed up for a tournament, he’d have missed a lot of celebrations. If I kept researching until I knew every perfect detail, my novels would never get written. We don’t lean on our own understanding. We lean on God, and His ways are perfect.
Walk into this year with purpose, not pressure. You don’t have to be perfect, just faithfully willing.
Have an Isaiah 6:8 moment and say, “Here I am Lord. Send me.”