The Underachievers

I am surrounded by underachievers.

They are smart, talented people who are blessed by God with many
gifts. Instead of rising to the full potential the world hopes for them, they remain in the background, unnoticed by the masses, and living unremarkable lives.

The underachievers are hidden in plain view. They are your neighbors; they work with you; they ring up your groceries at the store. You may even be one of them.

Some of them have been underachieving their whole, adult lives. Others renounced their pursuit of recognition and forfeited the rewards that come with high accomplishment so that they could pursue something different.

I became an underachiever nine months ago. It happened quietly and nobody really noticed. Even me.

For years, I had led the First Fruits team. Although someone else founded our ministry, I was able to be a part of setting a new direction. Never famous, I was at least widely recognized as the face of our team. God anointed what we did, meaning he authorized us to speak on his behalf while we served him in that area. It was awesome.

Nine months ago, we handed that ministry back to God. The church that most of us attend launched a similar ministry. The needs that God had routinely directed toward us now flow there. He had entrusted us with a task and we had finished it. So we released it back to him.

I was a ministry leader one day and underachieving the next.

Now I spend my available time writing this blog, faithful to the new calling on my life. I can log into my Blogger account and see that a relatively small number of people view each post. Every week Facebook asks me to boost my results, hoping that I will seek to become an achiever again.

But that is not the job that God has for me in this season. So the world quietly scrolls past me, not noticing me and my underachievement, but occasionally wondering where I went.

I am a low-ranking underachiever. Kim is much better than I am. But in fairness to me, she’s been practicing longer. For twenty years, she has devoted her full time and attention to raising two children, building a home environment that fosters love, and helping others to pursue their dreams. She could have been a celebrated employee, but chose me, Erin and James instead. Classic underachievement.

She’s nothing, though, compared to her father. Bob spent forty years delivering the U.S. Mail. He quietly walked his route or drove a mail truck, making modest money with great benefits that provided food and shelter for his family and even a college education for his kids. Like most mailmen, he was seldom noticed. His family noticed, though. So did his church, where he was a deacon. He was much loved and is now desperately missed.

People notice the underachievers the least, but then miss them the most when they are gone.

People like Kim and Bob have helped me to recognize my newfound peers. I have been (and still am) both an achiever and an underachiever. One is not inherently right or the other wrong and neither is necessarily better than the other, but underachieving is harder.

Achievers enjoy a constant stream of encouragement and admiration. It is easy for them to reach for greater heights as crowds cheer them on. They are esteemed and rewarded with things that the world envies.

The underachievers busily build the foundation of our families and cities while the world adores the towers and cathedrals.

They pursue their calling quietly. Lacking encouragement from others, they pray a lot, seeking it from the Father who loves them dearly. In the kingdom to come, many of them will become achievers. After a few seasons at the end of the line, they will enjoy an eternity of favor.

They don’t have to wait, though. We can reward them today. They are easy to find, just look behind any achiever, or see who has been silently helping you. They don’t want much, just a “thank you” or acknowledgment of the value of the job they perform.

God loves all his children, and he will make sure the underachievers get their reward. It would please both him and if we would bless them now. While people associated my name with First Fruits’ successes, there were people who served equally faithfully but quietly. I think I’ll start by thanking some of them.

As people continue to ask what is next for me, I am trying to focus less on my next step. Instead, I am trying to see my life through the Father’s eyes and share what I learn. It’s been challenging and I still have a long way to go.

Hopefully, I will gain the patience of a champion underachiever along the way.

Carra Day
Carra joined our team during a season of her own crisis. Regardless of how difficult things were for her, she faithfully gave her best. Thank you, Carra, for showing me that seemingly overwhelming needs will be met by a loving Father and that empty hands always have something to give.
(Picture of Carra praying over a homeless man at Operation Care)

Hank Cates
Hank joined our team later than many of the core team but instantly became a key ingredient. On days that were too hot, during tasks that were unfathomably difficult, when we needed it most, Hank’s ready smile and genuine laugh charged the atmosphere. Thank you, Hank, for reminding me that serving is a joy, and friends are meant to be enjoyed. Thank you for being my friend.
(Picture as Hank saw the gutters he was asked to hang on a 100° day)

Mary Jo Johnson
Though she be but little, she is fierce. Nobody works harder than Mary Jo. Across the years, she has always given her very best. Whenever I was ready to give up and cut corners, she encouraged me to find a way and summoned the strength for both of us. Thank you, Mary Jo, for pushing us all to excellence in the details. We wouldn’t have been the same without you.

Steve Hermann
Steve was always the most equipped person on our team. He arrived early every workday, always prepared for the task at hand. He was the first person we asked for advice on how to perform a task. Despite that, he served with inspirational modesty. Never seeking attention, he remained in the background. Thank you, Steve, for modeling the nature of humility.