My six-year old niece hired me for her fashion design company once and that’s as close as I’ll ever get to the profession. As clear and elaborate as the princess gown ideas were in my mind, the end results were nothing more than stick figures wearing lopsided triangles. It was enough to appease my niece, but in comparison to even the most amateur in the field, my designs were average.
This seems to be the case in much of my life. I can sing my lungs out doing the dishes but I’d likely get laughed out of an American Idol audition. My cooking keeps my family alive, but it won’t land me in the Master Chef kitchen. As for looks, I get by, but I don’t turn heads. Even my name is average. There’s 1,423,950 of me in the U.S. and I’m sure that number multiplies exponentially in Jens, Jennys, Jennas and Jennifers around the world.
I’m okay with average in some areas of life. It’s not like I really wanted to be a fashion designer, anyhow. But I do want to go beyond average in the way I live, the way I love, the way I serve and the way I write. I want to live with purpose, love without reservation, serve with excellence and write with passion. I want to use the average I’ve been given to do something that makes an extraordinary difference. Something beyond…average.
“For it is by GRACE you have been saved, through FAITH—and this is not from yourselves, it is the GIFT of God—not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do GOOD works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” (Eph 2:8-10)
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