World-class begins where your comfort zone ends

“World-class begins where your comfort zone ends.”

I recently heard this phrase in The 5 AM Club, an audiobook I started listening to on long drives. It struck me immediately when I heard it and I had to rewind the track twice to relisten, for it hit home for situations I was currently navigating in my life. See, my comfort zone had recently been stretched immensely. At work, I was transitioning to a new role which came with both joy and challenges alike. It required me to step up to have more difficult conversations and take special care with others around me. It offered me more responsibility and workload, a bit overwhelming amidst already-full days, but it also offered opportunities to be more strategic and grow. It was a new pathway which instilled great excitement and joy in me, an opportunity to more meaningfully shape the culture and build up the people around me. Already, I had been stretched, teetering at the edge of my comfort zone.

As I listened to the words of this phrase a second and third time, I let their impact set in. World-class begins where your comfort zone ends. How true had that phrase rung in my life. Whenever I stepped outside of my comfort zone, progress was made. And while it first hit me about my career, my mind quickly jumped to another area I was uncomfortable: sharing my writing.

I recently had lunch with a friend I hadn’t seen in many years, someone who knew a different version of me. Time flew quickly as we chatted over greasy burgers and caught up on each other’s lives. As we each skimmed through our highlight and lowlight reels, it was strange to me how comfortable we both were with each other and how firm the friendship that had been built long ago remained. It also hit me how strong we each had become in our unique individualism and how different we were than each other. Yet, it didn’t matter; though we lived different lives, there was still chemistry and care for each other.

Near the end of our time together, I mentioned my writing in passing which sparked a deeper conversation. I shared a little about my blog and the short book I had written about my mission trip to Thailand, followed by a clause about how I hadn’t really shared them with others, just a select few. First, he was surprised, as he didn’t know I wrote. Second, he wanted to know why I would have a blog if I didn’t share it. What was the point? He wasn’t wrong, and I laughed at his bluntness. After all, I’ve thought the same thing before. What’s the point of this blog? Why go through the effort to write and not share it with anyone? I admitted to him that I was afraid of what others would think or learn about me if I shared it. Again, his response was simple, “Why?” He asked that question like it was the most ridiculous thing he had heard. Why would I care what others think?

As if I hadn’t already appreciated the contrasting people sitting across from one another enough at this point, it was in deep admiration that I looked at my friend. He lived to the beat of his own drum. He was not worried about what others would think, he was simply authentic. You got what you got with him, he wasn’t going to change or be someone different. He was real. The blonde streaked hair, earrings, bracelets, and tattoos were a part of his unique look and self-expression externally, which matched his fun, loving interior self. He was confident in who he was, which I had always admired.

As I pondered the situation, I began to reflect on why I hadn’t shared my writing. Why was I afraid to express myself? Well, for starters, my writing is vulnerable. There is so much of myself wrapped up in it. It is truly who I am deep down. I can get my jumbled thoughts in writing and see my emotion and growth over time. And while it’s been a gift, it’s also been my escape. I write about emotions I’m not comfortable sharing with people. I pen anger and hurt and hardship and grief and pain. I pen battles that are eating at my insides and come out the other side a little stronger. I pen experiences that shaped me and encounters with people who changed me.

To be honest, I don’t write about joy a lot, which is probably no surprise if you are one of the few people reading this. If you went through my blog, you would think I am a deeply afflicted person. And while that’s partly true (it’s been a few rough years), I recognize I often forget to write the joy. Writing is how I work through my hardest moments and fears. When things go well, I don’t need my outlet as much. However, I am going to work to change that. The Lord has blessed me in many ways and those should be noted too; they should be shared for His good as much as the struggles.

But all this to say: I am scared to share my writing. Why? While I am afraid of what others will think, I am more scared that I will lose my art. I am scared if I know people are reading it, I’ll adjust my writing. I am afraid I won’t be as vulnerable or outright or raw, that I will lose a piece of myself by sharing it with others. It was a big step to take my writing from my phone to a journal to this blog, to share it with anyone at all. But to take the next step feels like a giant pit in my stomach. To let others see the truly broken, crumbled pieces of myself is hard. To write knowing my family, friends and coworkers could read my writing to gain knowledge of my life – joy and struggles – is hard.

Yet, one of the goals I set for 2025 was to figure out what to do with this writing of mine. I am not quite sure what I will do with it yet, but I know it isn’t meant to never be read. I know it is meant for bigger things. I acknowledge that to be world-class, I have to step outside of my comfort zone. I recognize I must leap. But where I’m standing on the edge of the cliff with the world below me ready to swallow me up feels scary. I may teeter here for some time, but when I take the leap, I believe I will find my wings and soar to new heights. I trust the Lord will continue nudging me down the path forward, just as he did with this encounter. Wherever that path may lead, I am confident it will offer opportunities to overcome my fears as He extends His fruitfulness.

Lord, I trust you gave me this gift to use it for your good. I trust you want good things from it and have good plans. Help me to set aside the fear and lean into the uncomfortable area in which you are offering me to grow. To let go of the opinion of others and so confidently share about my joys and sorrows alike that my mind does not wander to how it is received by those around me. That it does not influence my writing or who I am as a person. You have uniquely created me and given me a purpose that only I can fulfill. Help me not to lessen myself for the sake of others but use the talents you gave me to build up others and spread the kingdom of God. To tell stories of love, hurt, tenderness, and grief to unite others with you. To be your vessel. To share your love with all who encounter my writing. And to not lose sake of who I am in the midst of any attention that may come from it, both good and bad, but that I may stay close to you and close to myself. That I may lose myself only in ways that are not like you, and gain humility to become more like you so that one day I may enter your kingdom. Oh God, how grateful I am for the talents you have bestowed upon me. May I use them for your will.