Lily-livered

Where in the world did that word originate? An old expression, I’m sure, but it describes a timeless condition. I'm currently lily-livered. Yep, a bowl of grape Jell-O. Flan, if you will. Yesterday, Debbie asked me to be the guest speaker at a ladies' gathering in mid-October or early November. Two months after Dad died, Christy asked me to speak at a Christmas Tea. I really don't understand either request. I'm not a speaker, nor do I aspire to become one. To envision myself on a platform in front of an audience is beyond my reality. True, every week I blab nearly nonstop to teens on a daily basis. However, when talking to adult peers, close friends and family excluded, I am barely able to spout a complete sentence. My words trip over their own shoelaces and my thoughts are a bowl of milk-drenched Froot Loops. I become monosyllabic and sound as though I never completed third grade.

Is this the way Moses felt when God asked him to step up to the plate? I don’t want to speak. I can’t speak. I don’t know how to speak. They won’t listen. I won’t make a difference. And, besides, I have nothing to say. Why can’t the Aarons of the world speak for us? My real strength lies in listening. My experience is that people want and need someone to listen to them. I am that one. I can listen. I know how to listen. I’m good at listening. I want to listen. Listening makes people feel loved. I am one of the better listeners I know, yet no one ever invites me to be the guest listener at ladies’ gatherings.

To raise the stakes, my friends bring God onboard. Debbie and Christy both post scripted their requests with, “Please pray about being the guest speaker.” When someone asks you to pray about something to which you are initially opposed, and you do pray, it is nearly a certainty that the Lord will flip you 180 degrees and you will find yourself doing the very thing you never wanted to do. It seems to be one of those anomalies of life.

The Apostle Paul spoke well when he recognized that Christ’s grace is sufficient; His power is made perfect in our weakness. Paul said, “I will all the more gladly boast of my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”

As I’ve been praying, I sense the Lord desires me to step up to the plate, to trust Him to fill my mind with organized, relevant thoughts as I study and prepare, and to speak the words that at least one listener needs to hear in order to bring glory to Him. His grace is certainly sufficient. His strength is more than adequate. His wisdom is incomprehensible. I am a precarious tiny dot surrendered in obedience. I will prepare as much as possible, and trust Him. Hmm . . . perhaps it’s desirable to be a lily-livered bowl of grape Jell-O.