Not Called to Average

“Average” is what the failures claim to be when their family and friends ask them why they are not more successful.

“Average” is the top of the bottom, the best of the worst, the bottom of the top, the worst of the best. Which of these are you?

“Average” means being run-of-the-mill, mediocre, insignificant, an also-ran, a nonentity.

Being “average” is the lazy person’s cop-out; it’s lacking the guts to take a stand in life; it’s living by default.

Being “average” is to take up space for no purpose; to take the trip through life, but never to pay the fare; to return no interest for God’s investment in you.

Being “average” is to pass one’s life away with time, rather than to pass one’s time away with life; it’s to kill time, rather than to work it to death.

To be “average” is to be forgotten once you pass from this life. The successful are remembered for their contributions; the failures are remembered because they tried; but the “average,” the silent majority, is just forgotten.

To be “average” is to commit the greatest crime one can against one’s self, humanity, and one’s God.

The saddest epitaph is this: “Here lies Mr. and Ms. Average — here lies the remains of what might have been, except for their belief that they were only “average.”

— Gaudet

Reading these words is uncomfortable — and that’s the point. Average is not about ability, it’s about choice. It’s the decision to shrink back when courage is required, to silence creativity when it longs to speak, to coast when God calls us to walk with purpose.

What struck me most is that “average” wastes God’s investment. Each of us carries unique gifts, stories, and opportunities entrusted by Him — not to be buried, but multiplied. Playing small doesn’t spare us; it robs both us and those we were meant to touch.

When I read Gaudet’s words about “average,” I can’t help but think of the years when I felt silenced, disconnected, and unseen. For so long, I settled into the background, believing the lie that I was ordinary — nothing special, nothing remarkable. Yet deep inside, God had already sown seeds of creativity and healing in me, waiting to break through.

Rediscovering my creative voice was never about proving I was “better” than average; it was about realising that God never designed me for mediocrity. He placed in my hands brushes, words, songs, and stories — seven keys of healing that all carried the fingerprints of creativity. Each time I dared to sing, paint, write, dance, or speak, I was not just creating — I was choosing life over “average.”

Faith has taught me that to play small is to dim the light God entrusted me with. To stay “average” would have been to bury my gifts, but instead He called me to let them shine — not perfectly, but boldly, honestly, and with love.

Even failure, when it comes from trying, can echo with meaning. But choosing “average” leaves no echo at all. That’s the saddest epitaph: “what might have been.”So the question becomes deeply personal: Am I living in a way that leaves behind only safe sameness, or am I daring to create, love, risk, and shine — even imperfectly — so that God’s investment in me grows and blesses others?🤔

My creative journey is my testimony: I am not “average.” I am God’s workmanship (Ephesians 2:10), crafted with purpose. Even in my brokenness, He uses golden seams of grace to turn my story into something that speaks life.

And so I keep creating, not to be remembered, but to reflect Him. Each brushstroke, each devotion, each gathering becomes my way of saying: “I refuse to settle for average. I choose to live poured out.”