The Pursuit of Excellence

It’s August. The month has just begun and I can already see it ticking away. September: full-time seminary begins; the final course for my certificate in creative writing begins (must submit a 75-page manuscript for review—only have 59 pages so far); all my tutoring students, many of them taking a break this summer, all coming back on board; first sermon to be preached in mid-fall imminent… and my anxiety is manifesting itself in my dreams. You know: when you dream that either you’ve forgotten or missed something completely, or when you actually carry out the task but you do an absolute appalling job. I wind up waking up abruptly at 7 a.m. on any given morning, getting a head start on whatever I dreamt about, praying that the dream would not materialize. (Lee often tells me I’m shortening my life span by living this way, but I can’t help it: the habit surges through my veins.)

I’ve never been a very spontaneous person. I’m a planner—whatever situation I know I’ll be in, I spend hours preparing for it. I hate the feeling of being caught off guard—looking foolish because I lacked foresight or wisdom to see what was coming.

Two quotes I came across in high school have always stayed with me; the first quote being, “Luck is when preparation meets opportunity,” the second quote wound up in my yearbook, under the heading, “Words to Live by”: “Go as far as you can see; when you get there, you can see farther.” The first one explains my obsession with productivity; the second one my trust in the promise that God, as long as I’m patient and diligent and faithful, will eventually show the way. Time ripens all things. God hasn’t failed me yet—even though, sometimes, it feels like He takes an awful long time to do the showing.

Complacency doesn’t do any good either. How many times have I, for too long, stayed comfortable, not giving the least thought about going places or accepting responsibilities that make me scared or nervous, and often, downright nuts from the possible failure or humiliation I might face? Yet another battle of life.

A little bit of uneasiness is good for you, of course, as everyone soon discovers. You grow, as a result—in character, in vision, in faith. Above all, faith. Realizing that you can’t do it on your own—you push yourself to climb that cliff, envisioning what is beyond it, believing that after the arduous climb, a reward is waiting. You can’t climb the hill or mountain if you don’t believe that there is something waiting for you at the very top. Even if it isn’t money, or a trophy of some sort, you have to believe nonetheless that there’s something—material or spiritual. Otherwise, you find yourself panting, out of breath, incapable of going on, ultimately giving up entirely.

While working as a teacher assistant back in university, the teacher I was helping gave me a gift that I display on a shelf in my living room; it’s a rock, with the following words engraved on it: “Accept the challenges so that you may feel the exhilaration of victory.” How sweet it tastes when after months or years of labouring at something, you see its fruits. But to have the endurance to see it through—now that’s the challenge.

As a Christian, I believe that EXCELLENCE is one of God’s directives. If you want to start by being a testimony to others, don’t be lazy, don’t waste time, don’t forsake the respect of those around you. Otherwise, how are you going to win souls?

In Ecclesiastes 9:10, it says: “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might.” In Proverbs 22:29, it says: “Do you see a man who excels in his work? He will stand before kings.”

At the same time, there’s a fine line between excellence and success. Success is defined for us by the world—you encounter it every day; in one way or another, it seeps into our conversations in which pride surfaces, and in the toys we consciously or unconsciously like to flash before others.

So it’s tough. But as a Christian, God’s congratulation must be enough. To do your absolute best—and whatever the outcome, to accept it, graciously, meekly, joyfully, thankfully. That is the view from the top for one of God’s children. The reward revealed in the smile, the wonder of the miracle, the tears of humility when the moment arrives.

Therein lies the struggle. To not be disheartened by disappointments, to not be slowed down by fear of the unknown, to not allow worldly success to take control of my vision of what my future is to be—that is, as God sees it.


This morning Lee had to drop me off at work at 7 a.m. because he had to go into work early. The building not being open that early, I waited at Tim Horton’s, enjoying a tea biscuit and steeped tea. This week my goal was to revise three of my short stories—two of which have comments on restructuring by my previous writing instructor.

Sitting there, I take a deep breath, reading and rereading her notes—contemplating about how to make the changes—not letting self-doubt overpower me, but to have faith that, with careful molding and discipline, I could do it. There were stories here—worth being told, I hoped.

And this is what keeps me going—that God wants me to do my best—the rest, I leave to Him.