In the Spring of 2016, I realized I am prejudice.

prejudice

noun prej·u·dice \ˈpre-jə-dəs\

:  an irrational attitude of hostility directed against an individual, a group, a race, or their supposed characteristics

: an unfair feeling of dislike for a person or group because of race, sex, religion, etc.

: a feeling of like or dislike for someone or something especially when it is not reasonable or logical

All of these definitions fit my condition perfectly.

But my prejudices have nothing to do with skin color.

Home Sweet Home

While preparing a message to give at a ladies luncheon at small church in Southern Kentucky, I got stuck.

When I booked the event, I was told I could plan the theme.  Immediately the word “refreshing” came to mind.

I wanted to get the audience brainstorming about their dreams and purpose in their life, to refresh their passion.

I decided to take the ladies through an exercise I had done myself a few years ago and wrote about in my book.

After pulling me out of the darkest pit of my life, God was teaching me how to dream again.  He prompted me to make two lists: things I was passionate about, and things I was good at – natural talents and abilities I possessed.  When I did this I began to see correlations. I began to see purpose. I started to get a clear picture of what God put me here on earth for.

With the two lists side-by-side, I saw how He had planted specific passions in my heart, and gave me the corresponding skill-sets to go after them.  Refreshing, right?

But leading up to the event, I wondered if that exercise had only been refreshing to me.  What if no one else found it as revelatory?  I thought I knew the direction I wanted to take the day, but every time I sat down to type or research, I just felt….. blah.

In discussing ideas with the event coordinator (my mom), I asked her what she thought about it, if she thought a Purpose-Finding exercise would be interesting and applicable to the rest of the audience.

See, this wasn’t an audience of my peers; other thirty-somethings in the midst of a quarter-life crisis, trying to identify which path to take.  This was going to be a room full of women who doubled my age; women who, many of them, had already lived full lives.  Did they even want or need to be refreshed?!

But my mom’s response was encouraging to me.  She said, “I think that’s a great idea.  Because where I am now is, ‘Ok God, I’ve lived this whole life, and I’ve raised my children, and had careers, and I’ve had my own businesses, and I’ve already done all these things, but I’m still here.’ – And, I don’t know how much longer I have – it could be one more day or forty more years- but…. ‘Now What? [she giggled at her clever use of my book title] What am I supposed to do next? What am I still here for?’”  And then she ended with, “I kind of feel I’ve outlived my usefulness, like I’m all used up.”

…I can’t express what it felt like to hear those heartbreaking words come out of my mom’s mouth.  But I was hopeful because I had a solution, I had some insight for what to do in a “Now What?” moment like that.

And here’s what I know: if my mom felt that way, she wasn’t going to be the only woman in that room who did.  So it was settled; I would walk through that exercise with them and plan my talk accordingly.

But nothing changed for me internally. I still felt so unmotivated.

Usually, once I get a clear inspiration for a talk, I can’t put it down and I absolutely cannot wait to deliver it!  I get excited about the life change that God wants to bring with my words and joyfully overwhelmed at the honor that I get to be a part of it.

This was entirely not the case this time.  I was utterly dreading this event.

The closer it got, the less excited I felt.

I made sure to check off every other thing on my daily to-do list and continued to put off finalizing the talk until it was the week of the event.

I sat down and reviewed the outline I had prepared and then contemplated scrapping the whole thing and starting from scratch.

I worried I had missed God’s leading altogether and was only focused on what I wanted to accomplish that day.

I sat my notes aside and picked up my prayer journal. I began to ask God if I had missed Him entirely.  I told Him I was happy to throw out my talk and give the one He wanted.

But when I picked up my notes and read through again them I thought, this is really good stuff. So why am I still so drained and debilitated at the thought of giving this talk?

Within an hour of penning those words in my journal, I found myself on the phone with my high school cheerleading coach. It had been about three years since we last spoke.

While we talked I told her, “Hey, by the way, since the last time we were together, I wrote a book and I started speaking publicly.”  

“WOW! Look at you!” She said, congratulating me and expressing her pride.

“Yes, it’s exciting…but it’s also a lot,” I replied, “Since I’m still working full time, it’s a lot on my plate and it’s overwhelming at times.  BUT, the cool part is, I know it’s exactly what God is calling me to, and I know it is literally what I was created for.”

And I swear to you, her exact response to me was: “Isn’t that refreshing?”

She went on, “I don’t even know if that’s the right word, but I remember that point in my life, when I realized teaching was for me; that teaching is exactly what I’m supposed to be doing in life. Everything just clicked.”

I couldn’t even tell her how ironic her words were, but I was laughing.

Ok, I hear your confirmation, God, this is the talk I’m supposed to give.  But YOU are going to have to give me the passion for it.

It’s Not About Me

Many times before a talk I start to feel nervous or uneasy as I prepare. I worry about delivering just the right message in just the right way.  I get pretty worked up questioning if I’m qualified enough and if I have enough value to bring to the audience.

And every time, God reminds me that it’s not about me.

He has opened the door and given me this opportunity and as long as I get out of His way and let Him, He will show up and speak through me. It’s not about me, it’s about the audience and what He has in store for them.

As soon as I take my eyes off myself, my own insecurities, and focus on the audience, what they are going through and what they are going to get out of it – and remember that God is doing all the talking anyway – all of that uneasiness goes away.

With that in mind, I sat down with my prayer journal once more. It was the day before the talk.

I asked God to give me His eyes and His heart for these people.  To show me what He sees when He looks at them, so I can feel what He feels and know the right words to give them.

I was immediately blindsided by a fierce conviction: I don’t believe in these people at all. (Insert big eyes emoji)

These are small-town church people living in small-town Kentucky, I thought, Even if God did have big dreams for them, would they even go after them?

It occurred to me I have always seen “these people” as a sub-class. Entirely unambitious. “Poor, dumb and happy.” Oblivious to the fact they are throwing their lives away by staying confined to small towns and small sanctuaries. I seethed with judgement against them for not dreaming bigger. Thinking bigger. For not wanting to “get out” and “move on” like I did. I believed they really couldn’t do anything of significance if they stayed where they were.

I was convicted.  Oh no! I am prejudice!  

Against small-town people.

And, against traditional “church” people.

In my book, Now What? A Story of Broken Dreams and the God Who Restores Them I recount the months after my divorce when I was angry and bitter at God. I ran away from Him and from all things church and religion – I didn’t want anything to do with any of it.  I had followed their rulebook and God’s gameplan and my life didn’t turn out like I had been promised.

Additionally, recollections of the shaming and shunning of people who had fallen short during my childhood church experience replayed in my head as I imagined I, too, was being judged and condemned by these people during the lowest point in my life.

A few years after my divorce, I found a safe place in the welcoming arms and atmosphere of a self-admitted “church for people who have given up on church but not on God.” And it was unlike any experience I ever had to that point. But, even after all the healing and restoration God has brought into my life, I was caught off guard by the fact I still assumed and thought the worst of the “traditional church people”.

I was absolutely prejudice against them.

I had an “irrational attitude of hostility directed against an individual, a group, a race, or their supposed characteristics” just like the dictionary described.

And I was wrong.

For both of these prejudices.

God immediately opened my eyes to see these people weren’t any different than anyone else He’s created.

We are all equally flawed. And most of all, equally loved by Him.

Of course He has a plan and a purpose for their lives.

Of course they could be effectively and impactfully used by Him.

Of course they could dream big dreams and do big things, even from their small towns. 

Of course He believed in them. 

And of course He expected me to believe in them too.

It wasn’t my talk that was off, it was me that was off!  Ouch.

My heart was completely wrong toward these people.

And I had some serious repenting to do.

Apple Seeds

After my revelation (and repentance), I was on the phone with my speaking mentor, recounting the experience to him.

He quipped, “It’s good that you figured that out now.  If you had gone in there tomorrow with the same attitude you had toward those people today, you would have felt it and they would have felt it and it would have not been effective.”

He went on to tell me a very wise reminder, one he said he has to constantly remind himself of over and over:

“When you walk into a room to speak to a group of 100 people,” he began, “How many people’s lives do you have the opportunity to impact that day? …..100, right? That math works. The answer is 100, right?”

“Right,” I agreed.

“But that’s the wrong answer.”

Jeff is the master of trick questions that make you feel like you’re brilliant in one instant and rubbish the next, but they get your wheels turning and the lessons stick long-after the conversation.

“When you walk into a room of 100 people,” He said, “The number of lives you have the opportunity and ability to impact that day is infinity. It’s limitless.”

Seemingly changing subjects he pondered an ancient riddle, “How many seeds are in an apple? 10, 12, 15?  …But how many apples are in a seed?  An unlimited number, right?

…Because an apple seed becomes a tree, which produces hundreds of apples each year, which all contain seeds, that all contain more trees.

…So it’s the same when you walk into that room of 100,” He asserted, “Because those people know people who aren’t in that room, and they know other people, and those people know other people and so on.  And those people are going to have kids one day,” He paused, if only for a millisecond, “When you and I walk into a room to speak, we literally have the ability to impact generations of people who aren’t even born yet! 

So just think about that for a minute…. If even just one of those 60 year-old, grey-haired, small-town Kentucky women grabs hold of a dream and a vision you share with them on Saturday – and does something with it – she could impact the lives of people who aren’t even born.”

After that phone call, I was electric!  My belief in these women and their futures was raised exponentially!

And that’s exactly what I told them from stage that next day!

After pouring myself out for them that afternoon, there were several women who came up to me afterward and told me they really were leaving refreshed.  So my mission was indeed successful.

But more than that, I planted some apple trees that day.  And I am eager to see the bountiful harvest that comes out of small sanctuary in that small town in southern Kentucky.