I recently had a dear friend share with me that she’s having to come to grips with being mediocre. I could relate. Who hasn’t wondered at one time or another if they matter, if their life is worth a hill of beans, and if anything they do or have ever done has made a difference? She was likely acknowledging that she’d never be someone the world would recognize as special. I understand what she is getting at. Who hasn’t at some point felt insignificant or small?
Still, I couldn’t get what she said out of my mind. I even looked up the definition of mediocre and read: “of moderate or low quality, value, ability. Ordinary. So so.”¹
Hmm. While she might be mediocre by cultural standards, I concluded that our Heavenly Father would strongly disagree with this estimation of any of his blood-bought children. In his eyes, none of us is mediocre, ordinary, or of low quality or value.
Think with me; who were the outstanding, known, or esteemed ones in Jesus’ times? Well-known philosophers? Political rulers? Champions of the Colosseum? Pharisees and rabbis? Who were the movers and shakers? Are they the ones Jesus sought out? Hardly.
His people were the Invisibles: ragtag fishermen, redeemed prostitutes, widows, needy, and the sick. These were less than ordinary; some might even say worthless.
In Jesus’ hands though, they were so far beyond mediocre or ordinary. He made them forerunners, ambassadors, world changers, heart menders, freedom fighters. They excelled in selfless sacrifice, joy in tribulation, perseverance, love for the unlovely and ungrateful, help for the hurting. They imparted hope for the hopeless and courage to the fearful. Their impact is still strong today, expanding God’s Kingdom in a lost and broken world that desperately needs to hear the message of Jesus. This is what God does with ordinary–even mediocre–people.
So, let’s get back to my friend who is trying to come to grips with her “mediocrity.” In our fame-obsessed culture, she will likely be overlooked. But what say the people whose lives she touches–those who are sick at home, feeling forgotten and alone? She shows up. She remembers to check in with them, bringing them whatever they need (even when they may not know what that is). Because Jesus dwells in her, she is bringing Jesus to them: his arms of love, his light in a dark place, his words of hope for the hopeless, his compassionate care. She brings them a smile and a hug. She may even help them to laugh again. (Let’s not diminish laughter. I hear it is great medicine!) She reminds them they have dignity as image-bearers of the living God.
This mediocre friend of mine reminds me of a long-cherished quote by C.S. Lewis in The Weight of Glory:
“It is a serious thing…to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare.
“All day long we are, in some degree, helping each other to one or other of these destinations…There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal…it is immortals whom we joke with, work with, marry, snub and exploit…immortal horrors or everlasting splendors.” (The Weight of Glory, p.44-45)
My friend is on her way to everlasting splendor and is helping other “mere mortals” to come along with her. This quote not only challenges my “mediocre” friend to see herself as God does, but it also challenges me. The next time I look at a stranger and am tempted to think they are a worthless “less than” person, I need to remember “no ordinary people.” Not my friend and not the stranger on the street. I need to see with God’s eyes and reach out with Jesus’ arms. Dear Jesus, help me. Help us.
¹Merriam-Webster
