Wreck My Life

  I wished I could have appeased everyone, but a bold faith rarely warrants a mild response. The Bible reminds us that many people despised Jesus. If we truly want to look like Christ, we have to come to terms with the fact that many people will despise us too. If we spend our lives compromising ourselves to try and ensure everyone around us stays satisfied, we’ll find we stand for nothing and that we’ll desperately be chasing counterfeit happiness all of our lives. We’re called to stand boldly and surrender our comfort for the sake of righteous and unfailing truth. So I put my nose to the grindstone, drowned out the noise around me, stood firm in God’s calling, and let my life be living proof.

  I trained through the rest of the spring and found myself focused and ready to finally try out come fall. Over the course of my eighteen months of preparation, the dynamics of the roster had changed so much. Where there had been a real need for kickers when I first began my journey, there were now four other specialists and two additional recruited walk-ons, each likely to redshirt (meaning to sit out from competition for a year in order to prepare and develop more without losing a year of eligibility), set to join the team. The returning starter was a senior coming off an All-SEC year, so no one was beating him out. But even though I recognized the odds were stacked against me, I was still focused on giving it all I had.

  I wanted to earn it. I didn’t want anything given to me. I had done all I could possibly do to prepare to that point. So when tryout day finally came and I sat on that hot metal bench and laced up my cleats, I took a deep breath and finally, fully, surrendered the pride and need for control within me.

  The Answer We Don’t Expect

  The AC hummed as Coach Miles slowly crafted his words. There was a mutual understanding that hung thick in the room. A mutual respect. He knew all I had been through—it was an unspoken reality that demanded respect, for the commitment alone. He knew of my personal journey—the suicide of my father, the horrific car accident—and he knew of my recovery, of my unflinching commitment to live life unchained by my adversities. He knew all that I had voluntarily, physically endured for eighteen months—the three-a-days, the strict nutritional regimen, the weight training program, the injuries, the rehabilitation, the countless hours of work on my own. He knew that I had successfully navigated the obstacles of being a woman in a man’s environment—that there had never been issue or controversy, and that the team respected and accepted me. He knew that I had handled the media carefully, that I had garnered support from thousands as well as faced constant scrutiny and degradation by uninformed yet overly confident outsiders. He knew all of those things.

  I knew he had a difficult decision to make. I knew he had given me a fair opportunity—an open door and open access to his facilities, his coaches, his equipment, and his program. I knew he had also faced scrutiny and, likely, some distraction in the process. I knew he had a unique situation on his hands and that he had never complained, asked me to leave, or discouraged my goal. He had always encouraged me, always supported me, and always granted me the opportunity to try for my dream.

  He had also always been honest with me. That final day, sitting in his office, was no exception. It was not easy news to hear, as I’m sure it was not easy news to deliver. After eighteen months of effort, nobody wants to hear a no. But no was the final verdict. I had to hold my head high, though my brow quivered and my face grew hot.

  As thoughts and emotions swirled through my mind, I worked to process all that I was feeling. Coach Miles continued to talk, and while I was trying desperately to listen and process his words, I found myself zoomed out of my circumstances and overwhelmed by the weight of his goal-ending word.

  No. Though I could strike fifty-three-yard field goals, there were other guys already on the roster who could do the same.

  No. Though I was consistent, accurate, and conditioned, there was not room or need for another specialist that particular season.

  No. Though I had worked for a year and a half, extended my college education into the graduate program, and perfectly structured my course load moving forward, I would not be competing for one more fall.

  No. Though the nation was on edge waiting to hear the result—though I wanted to prove right all those who believed in me and disprove all those who had doubted and degraded me—the story was at its end.

  No. Though I believed that God had specifically called me to pursue this goal, the final verdict was no.

  No.

  In the weeks that followed, I found myself confused, agitated, anxious, and somewhat depressed. All I had invested in was stripped away. All I had been driven by and motivated toward would never come to exist. Not only was I not on the team but I was no longer a student-athlete. My eligibility was done. My college career was over. I questioned what more I could have done. I replayed every step and every kick from my tryout in my mind. I questioned Coach Miles, I questioned the motives of the decision, and I questioned whether I had ever really had a chance at all. I questioned the system. I had seen how things truly worked from the inside, and I questioned the process. I grieved over the loss of my dream. I grieved over my failure. I grieved over the no.

  Time and time again I was drawn back to the same exasperated and frustrated question. God, I believed that You specifically called me to this chapter of life. Was I mistaken all along? Was I just wasting my time? Am I the fool? Were those who doubted me right? If You called me to take on this challenge, and You saw how diligently and passionately I worked toward it in Your name—always giving You the glory—wasn’t it Your will for me to ultimately make the team?

  And for the second time in a month, I was hit with the most rattling, course-altering answer. No.

  The resounding no that was now echoing in my heart gradually pushed out the doubt, anger, and resentment that had been brooding there. This no was humbling, precise, and revelatory. It drew me to a realization of a reality that I suppose I was intended to learn, all along. No was not a word of dismissal, it was a word of direction.

  I was called to listen to God’s leading, take on the challenge He presented me, and passionately pursue the goal He set, in Christ’s name. I was never assured of the result. Would I have been as willing to take on such a crazy, vulnerable, and challenging feat had I known there was a closed door at the end of it all? No. Yet God had reason for every step of my journey. Was it up to me to worry about whether those who had doubted me were arrogantly walking around with the false presumption that they had been right all along and knew all the details of the situation? No. Their hearts and their humility were in God’s hands. Was I a fool for having tried and having believed in myself? No. I was strengthened, nourished, and matured through the process. Was I a failure for having received a no? No. The success was not in the outcome but in the steps of faith it took to complete the journey.

  If my journey with the LSU football team taught me anything, it was that there was power in listening to God’s call and responding to it. His direction looks different in each of our journeys, but we can’t hold a narrow-minded and presumptuous misunderstanding that God can’t use us on a day-to-day basis unless He is using us in an extreme way. As if earthly success is equivalent to our overall effectiveness. God yearns to use us daily, in every form, fashion, and function. We aren’t asked to box God into the ways we think He can and can’t use us. He works across a spectrum, far beyond our understanding, to align each of our steps with perfect purpose. His call in your life is going to be something tailored to exactly who you are, through your strengths, your talents, and your design. Allow Him to stir your heart and guide your steps.

  It is not up to us to fully grasp the outcome before we ever commit to the challenge. It’s not up to us to worry or stress about the elements of the process we can’t control. It’s simply up to us to move forward and to trust in God’s provision and direction—knowing along the way we are bound to hit both big and small nos. Though I’d been conditioned to believe a closed door after a committed journey meant I’d fal
len short, our loving King reminded me He’d used every moment of the ride. No was not a word of dismissal but a word of direction through the surrendering of my pride.

  11

  Wreck My Plans

  “Take delight in the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart” (Ps. 37:4). I think we often read this verse with the idea that, if we are faithful, God will give us whatever we want, when in actuality it is reminding us that when we are faithful and delight in Him, what He wants for our lives becomes our desires as well. His purpose and plans intertwine with our hearts, and the course we never mapped becomes the course we’re eager to start.

  I had always planned on a career in sports journalism. From radio and television work during my childhood to majoring in broadcast journalism at LSU, I took every step to ensure I would have the best possible résumé lined up once I finished school. The viral success of my “Meaux vs.” YouTube series seemed like an added bonus, and just about everyone I knew was sure it wouldn’t be long before I was sitting behind an ESPN desk.

  I initially figured that my experience in public speaking was just another valuable tool in my broadcasting belt. Once I had processed all that had happened to me and all the Lord had done in my life, I began sharing my testimony around Baton Rouge. It started as a few small engagements here and there—community service hours when I volunteered to speak to Sunday school classes or small groups that reached out to me. I started my blog a short while before that time, and my dramatic personal story, in conjunction with the fact that I was an LSU athlete, stirred up some interest in local circles. One speaking engagement led to another, and before I knew it my calendar was spotted with engagements all around town, prompted solely by word-of-mouth. I spoke at sorority functions and to campus clubs, at nearby churches and to civic organizations in town.

  I didn’t think much of the doors God was opening, initially. I knew there was something I loved about stepping on stage and sharing my heart—something deeply special about looking through the eyes of the audience and connecting with the stories of those listening. I could tell God had blessed me with a special gift of articulation and storytelling, but there was no connection in my mind, at the time, of how my love for writing and speaking—for boldly communicating the gospel—could be used in a bigger capacity. So I chalked up my events as great experience and continued to balance them into my schedule as I studied and competed through the remainder of my school years.

  In August 2012, after Coach Miles’s no, I decided to withdraw from graduate school and head home to Atlanta in search of a job. I knew it would be beneficial to live back in a bigger city for a while. Half of me figured it was a wise career move and could open up doors with CNN or Turner Broadcasting or another big-market station in the South. The other half of me just desperately wanted some time back home near my sister and my mom. Life had been such a whirlwind through the past several years that we had never really had the chance to spend any length of time together as grown women. So I sold all of my possessions, gave the check to my friend who was support-raising to go into the mission field on the World Race, got baptized in a rehabilitation pool underneath Tiger Stadium, and packed up my two dogs. I headed back to the place I had left so many years before in such a broken state, now a completely new woman brought to life by God’s immeasurable grace.

  I spun my wheels for a long time, trying to knock down doors on the broadcast side of things. The job hunt was frustrating, to say the least. On paper, I seemed to have all the pieces in place, and in person, as many people noted, I carried an intangible quality and on-camera strength. But the industry was competitive and, for whatever reason, the opportunities just weren’t happening for me. Meanwhile, I continued to receive speaking requests. My platform was beginning to spread from Louisiana to more of the Southeast. I didn’t exactly understand how people were hearing about me. I wasn’t doing any marketing, I wasn’t sharing on social media that I was even available to come and speak, and I had no type of business model set up to handle the logistics. But dots kept connecting and word kept spreading, and before long I realized I was traveling almost constantly. I loved speaking. Every group I connected with seemed to breathe new life into my anxious soul. Pouring myself out on stage and sharing the gospel night after night was gloriously exhausting. I found that when I went to bed those particular evenings, I felt a fulfillment that was uniquely satisfying.

  Still, this wasn’t my “real” career plan. If anything, it was an enjoyable extracurricular activity. I had imagined and mapped out exactly what I wanted to be doing. And, to be transparent, the notoriety and recognition of a broadcasting gig was part of what I was pursuing. I felt, in many ways, like people expected me to make an immediate splash into the sports broadcasting scene. I was frustrated that the position I felt God had opened so many doors for, and for so much of my life, was suddenly so inaccessible to me.

  After a few months I was finally presented an opportunity with ESPN. They had flown me out to their studios in Bristol, Connecticut, once before, but nothing much had unfolded from those meetings, so I was thrilled to be invited out again. I was set to fill in for the female host on a show called ESPNU UNITE, but I couldn’t shake an unsettled feeling that lingered in me. My first night on the show I felt completely off. I couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Quite literally, I was standing in the midst of my wildest dreams. Everything I had hoped for and worked toward was right in front of me and I didn’t want to take for granted an opportunity that I knew so many women would have given much to achieve. But I’ll never forget one particular moment standing in the studios the second night. I’d worked out the jitters from the night before. My hair and makeup had been done, I’d spent a great afternoon working alongside the cast and crew, and I felt more familiar with the flow of the show and all that I was supposed to do. That’s why I was stunned when, as I stared into the lens of the camera as the teleprompter counted down the seconds until we were set to go live, I finally realized, deep down within me, that this wasn’t what God was calling me to do with my life.

  When I got back to my hotel room after the show I could hardly sleep. I felt conflicted by all of the thoughts and the emotions I was wrestling with. I wanted to follow God’s will but I had no idea what He was trying to tell me. It genuinely terrified me that, as I was standing in the midst of my dreams, He would call for the wreckage of my plans and stir a restlessness so deep within me. I didn’t know what my next move was supposed to be. I flew home to Atlanta and spent a week grieving the surrender He was asking of me. Then I spent the next few weeks trying to figure everything out and come up with solutions and remap my plans for my future.

  When I was mentally and emotionally exhausted, someone finally suggested to me that if I wanted answers perhaps I should actually set my gaze back on God instead of focusing so much on the details of the journey I wanted Him to be orchestrating. Their words were convicting. I think that oftentimes we would argue that we are open to God authoring our stories when, in actuality, we are trying in our own strength to conveniently squeeze God into the story we’ve prewritten ourselves. It’s important to keep things in perspective. To let God be God and understand that what’s asked of us is just to follow faithfully. When we cut our gaze off of our own creations and set our eyes on the Creator of all things, we are able to approach life with greater clarity.

  All a person’s ways seem pure to them,

  but motives are weighed by the LORD.

  Commit to the LORD whatever you do,

  and he will establish your plans. . . .

  In their hearts humans plan their course,

  but the LORD establishes their steps. (Prov. 16:2–3, 9)

  I spent time chewing on this Scripture for a while. It was as mysterious as it was intimidating, because it didn’t offer me any direct answers. But it was comforting knowing that it didn’t read, “Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and then good luck figuring the rest out.” I found that the longer I spent time with these word
s, the more they offered me a rest-filled peace. I knew God had given me specific talents and skills and strengths, and I could trust that even when I didn’t have all the answers, He was charting a course for me.

  Saying Yes to God

  It took me a while to see the clearest sign God was laying directly in front of me. As days passed and I struggled to discover what the Lord would have for me, speaking requests continued to flood in and I found myself flying back and forth all around the country. When the light bulb finally went on in my mind that perhaps He intended me to be a professional speaker, I couldn’t believe that there could be a way I could make a living out of something I loved so much. Especially not at age twenty-three and without any clue how to run a ministry. But the requests kept coming in, and as ill-equipped as I felt to be about such holy business, I started to simply say yes to all of the big and small things.

  There’s truth in the popular expression, “God doesn’t call the equipped, He equips the called.” As believers, we are instructed to put His creation to work—to exercise the hands and feet and brain He gave us to be about His business and contribute to society. But throughout each season we are also encouraged to hold our plans loosely. To always be willing to surrender our own personal direction to follow the direction God leads—even when we feel helpless or ill-prepared to carry out the new journey. It’s that type of focused work ethic and desperate dependence that enables Him to equip us fully and mold us into the tools He needs us to be. I’ve found that the times we feel least capable of something are the same times He reveals Himself most mightily.

  I quickly realized that I had gone from uncomfortable to uncommon. Not many other people my age were doing what I was doing. I didn’t have any resources to turn to for guidance or specific direction. But my lack of familiarity was what forced a raw and abiding faith and dependency on God. Day by day I was forced to trust that God would provide new opportunities. Week by week I was forced to trust that He would provide a way for me and sustain consistency. Month by month I was forced to trust that He would make ends meet, financially. With every day and week and month that passed where true trust was forced from me, I found that my faith grew and the weight of expectation I carried on my own abilities lightened. I started to understand what it actually meant to boldly trust in the Lord with all my heart and lean not on my own understanding; to submit to Him in all my ways as He made my path straight (see Prov. 3:5–6). When I finally had the courage to surrender my own life plans, He revealed to me so much more abundance in the work of His own hands.