It would be far easier to build a speaking career out of only my highlight reel — the ministry that grew, the nursing practice that found its footing, the marriage that has lasted. I could fill forty-five minutes with only the parts of my story that make me look like I have this figured out.
I have chosen, deliberately, not to do that. Paul’s strange boast — that he would rather boast of his weaknesses so that Christ’s power could rest on him (2 Corinthians 12:9) — has become something like a filter for what I share on a stage. If a story only makes me look impressive, I hold it loosely. If a story is honest about where I failed and where grace met me anyway, I tell it.
This is not false modesty. It is strategy, in the truest sense. Nobody is changed by watching someone else succeed effortlessly. People are changed by watching someone survive the same mess they are currently standing in, and come out the other side still holding onto God.