Monday Mediocrity (What I Have, I Offer: Part 1)

I’m learning to be thankful for my mediocrity.

This week, I had the chance to submit a book proposal. It was supposed to include my two polished chapters—the ones I had carefully edited and prepared. Instead, I accidentally sent the file with the six I had drafted.

The last four? Definitely not ready. Not polished. Not finished.

And here’s the irony: the book I’m writing is about biblical community, living authentically, and bringing our mess together. And the publisher’s very first introduction to me was… my mess. Literally.

At first, I wanted to panic. To apologize. To cringe. But then I laughed, because isn’t this exactly the point? We don’t wait until we’re polished or perfect to be received—by God or by each other. We bring what we have, even when it’s messy.

So here’s the heart behind this new weekly rhythm I’m calling Monday Mediocrity—part of a series I’m calling What I Have, I Offer.

Each Monday between now and Thanksgiving, I’ll share something I’m learning to bring to God in its true form: unfinished, ordinary, imperfect. My little, for a big God.

Because my 10 minutes with Him are not less holy than an hour.
Because my un-HGTV, un-Pinterest home can still be holy ground.
Because even my rainbow-splattered daughter’s room will soon host my dear friends for our conference this week.

And because I’m learning to tell imposter syndrome to stop stealing my joy when God lets me in on His work … whether it’s hosting a conference or walking women through the little Bible studies I’ve been writing.

But mediocrity doesn’t just show up in my writing. It’s everywhere:

• In my mending efforts toward relationships — prayers that God will heal them with little to no scars.

• In my attempts to do something with my mess — fumbling steps that feel more clumsy than redemptive.

• In my courage — stepping out not because I’m confident in myself, but because I’m confident in His ability to show up.

• In my offerings — always smaller, thinner, weaker than I’d like.

Most days, I feel like an appliance unplugged from the wall—without connection to the source, my efforts are empty. But in Christ, I remember: I am the branch, He is the vine. My role isn’t to be perfect. It’s to stay connected. Shout out to my pastor for that illustration by the way.

It’s loaves and fishes. Not much. Not enough. But beautiful, because it’s all I have. And enough, because of the hands I entrust it to.

So this week, I’m learning to be thankful for my mediocrity. For my mess. For the reminder that Jesus doesn’t ask for polish, He asks for an offering.

What about you? Where could you stop apologizing and start offering?