I'm Awkward.

Learning How to Glorify God at All Costs

When I was debating what my Substack handle should be, “Awkward for Jesus” was one of the ideas I floated past my 30-year-old son, but I wondered if perhaps I should go with something more dignified.

In his mind there was no doubt. Without hesitating he said, “No offense mom, but you have been awkward for Jesus for a very long time. Stick with what you know.” Yeah, well, no offense son, but you have a piece of spinach caught between your two front teeth. Again.

I mean, I know I’m the one who admitted to being awkward to begin with, but he needn’t agree so readily.

Anyhoo…it’s an aspect of who I am, for sure. (And when I say “awkward,” I don’t mean weird. Some people probably do think I am weird, but I try to avoid that moniker.)

This very afternoon showcased an example of what I am talking about when it comes to being awkward for Jesus. It all started when I went for a walk around the neighboring streets with my husband, Pat. We passed many people who were out and about, enjoying the sunny spring weather as we were or doing outdoor chores. Near the end of our walk, we were sauntering down a hill near our home, approaching a house where an elderly lady had just emerged from her garage carrying a bag of trash toward her garbage can.

We hadn’t lived in the area long, but I thought this might be the neighbor who recently lost her husband. My heart ached for her. As Christians living out our faith in this world, whether with a smile, or by speaking about God, or by helping with some practical need, we are Christ’s hands and feet. Reaching out to people can be a little awkward, but Christ must be met in us. God must be glorified. “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven” (Matthew 5:16).

I glanced at my husband, who is a WWJD-kind-of-guy, and he gave a quick nod. We slowed our steps and I called out, “Excuse me ma’am, do you need help?” Almost immediately, an older gentleman emerged from the open garage, wondering, I imagine, who was speaking to his wife and why. Frankly, he had a suspicious look on his face, and it was a situation that might be describe as a bit awkward…but not half as awkward as it would be if—as I opened my mouth to speak—I was to turn my ankle in an asphalt dip on the edge of his property and pitch headlong into his front yard. Which I did.

After I rolled to a stop, I rested for a moment, happy that their grass was green and lush, and told my husband and the gentleman making his way toward us that I was okay. As I accepted my husband’s proffered hand and rose to my feet, I gave a half-hearted chuckle and told our evidently concerned and startled neighbor not to worry— I wouldn’t sue him (okay, I was boarding on weird here), and my husband and I quickly went on our way. Bonus? Since this episode took place on a steep hill, the 15 or so neighbors on the lower half of the road, if they had been in their yards or looking out their windows, would have had a extremely clear view of me tumbling about.

The truth is, if I hadn’t tried to reach out to someone with the love of Christ, I may not be nursing several bruises and a twisted knee at this moment. I may have avoided being a topic of conversation around neighborhood dinner tables this evening. But what the heck, you only live once and Christ must be met in us. God must be glorified, no matter the cost.

So I try to be willing to go out of my comfort zone once in a while. To take a risk for God out of love for him and others. Sometimes it is strikingly clear that God is working in these moments of connection with other people, sometimes there is a nice but unremarkable exchange, and sometimes it’s just plain awkward or even distressing. The beautiful thing is that, even when we walk (or tumble) away from a situation looking or feeling somewhat uncool, we have taken a risk for our Lord. We can leave the results in his hands.

In the meantime, when these various little risks that I take for Jesus don’t play out the way I had hoped, I recognize that this “failure” protects me from thinking that I have my act together. My slight embarrassment reminds me that my grandiose gestures or my attempt to “speak the truth in love” to others is not about me looking good or feeling good. Occasional awkwardness helps me let go of my ever-present pride.

Another aspect of my awkwardnes for Jesus has nothing to do with loving God and others on the front end of the situation. Sometimes my sin, my weaknesses, or just my personality result in some uncomfortable moments. Perhaps I say something rude to my daughter-in-law; perhaps I just spend too much energy wondering whether anyone in the store noticed that I had my shirt on inside-out. These awkward moments can be redeemed if we offer them to the Father through Christ, saying, “Look Lord, I am weak…this is uncomfortable…here, I offer you my messes, great and small and ask you to heal what is wounded in me.” Jesus loves it when we come to him this way.

Many years ago, my husband, in an attempt to say something romantic to me, called me a “diamond in the rough.” As a compliment, it fell a bit short of the mark, but he is not wrong. Those of us who are attempting to be faithful to Christ and be transformed by him look forward to the day when he will make all things new in us. “On that day the Lord their God will save them…for like the jewels of a crown
they shall shine...” (Zachariah 9:16).

I may not yet be capable of big sacrifices for the Lord, but if I start out simply willing to be awkward for Jesus, he will one day give me the strength and the virtue to glorify God when the cost is much greater. This is my supreme hope!