I’ve been speaking publicly for almost 30 years. Hour-long sermons. Keynote presentations. Emceeing events. I even once got a chance to speak at a TEDx event in Europe where they brought in a speech coach to help us level up. I enjoy public speaking. I take it on as a fun challenge to find the most authentic, compelling way to share what I get to share.
A couple of months ago, I got an amazing opportunity to give a 4-minute presentation on our new venture in front of a very friendly, generous, authentic, awesome group. Easy peasy, right? I was so excited to knock it out of the park.
I prepped like I normally do. Wrote it out. Rehearsed it in my hotel room 20 times. I did my process. I got up there with pretty typical excitement/nerves and started.
About a minute in. My mind. just. went. blank. Mid-sentence. Nothing. Deer in headlights. I didn’t know what I was saying. I could feel people’s eyeballs peering at me and also nervously glancing away. I FROZE. It was probably only about 5-10 seconds, but it felt like an eternity. I mumbled a few words. And still… nothing. no words. The silence was deafening. Should I just leave the room? Should I just say sorry and stop?
After another eternity (5-10 seconds), I started finding a few of my words and stumbled through the rest of the presentation. And sat down. And took a deep breath.
If that happened to you, what’s the first thought that would’ve flooded your mind in that moment? How are you feeling in that moment?
The old me would have destroyed myself. The inner critic voices (my Four Horsemen) would be screaming fire at the top of my lungs. “You. Piece. of. #@$&*(#@$(#*&(&$#(@. You can’t do anything right #&%*@P%#. Just think about what all those people are thinking about you now! They see the real you now! what in world is wrong with you?” (and a thousand other iterations all screaming at me at once) And it would have taken me a couple of weeks to dig out of the hole I’d kicked myself into.
But I was surprised at my response. It wasn’t any of those shadow thoughts, though, I could feel them pushing in, just hoping I’d just crack the door open, and they would’ve come storming in. Instead, I shut the door gently. And the room was strangely quiet. What do I feel and think?
Well, shoot, I feel the sharp pain and regret of missing a great opportunity. I’m very disappointed and sad I missed it. And it was a little embarrassing standing up there. I wish I could do it over.
And… it’s not the end of the world. The people in that particular room are all rooting for me. Some of them can probably relate. Even if there were ones not rooting for me – at least they got a chuckle. I’ll get through this.
What is God teaching me in all of this? I know him to be a gracious and patient teacher. Maybe this was God reminding me that if this venture succeeds, it won’t be because of my abilities, connections, or performance. It will be to glorify Him. In a weird comforting way, my whole being felt this truth: “God’s got me.”
After the other presentations were done, a friend came up to me and gave me a hug, and just said, “turns out you are human!” We later connected about how she also had bombed a presentation and how she found her way back. My business partner also texted me right away sincerely exhorting me for fighting my way back to recover well. I will now always be grateful to these great people.
I learned really important things that day:
In those moments when we are on the verge — and the inner critic is ready to pounce, two things are important: (1) the truth and (2) friends who can remind us of the truth. Is it possible that some time in the next month, we could get a chance to speak truth, love, and grace right at that moment, and help a friend avoid days / weeks / months / years of self-inflicted pain and spiraling? Be ready. Note, this isn’t flattery. Nor vanity. Nor sugar-coating. This is pointing to the generous truth that we so often forget. We are beautifully human — Precarious yet powerful. Flawed, yet forgiven. Limited, yet loved.
This bombed presentation is now a milestone: a monumental trail marker on my journey. Not because I bombed. But because that day marked a suspicion I’ve been having: I’m not the same person I was. I speak to myself differently because I’ve been infected by a gracious, loving God who’s reminds me of who I really am. After a lifetime of paralyzing harsh self-judgment, I was kind to myself — as I would’ve been to a good friend.
The most important thing I learned is that we have the power to choose our response. We do not have to be hijacked by our emotions, pasts, old patterns, or wounds. We do not have to be addicted to the approval of others. It’s not pre-determined. We don’t have to go “there.” Through practice, with the help of some good friends and a good God, we can master our thoughts because we know the truth.
