So
far, I have only used this blog to publish general thoughts on philosophy—but today,
I have a specific message to give to a specific group of people. Today I am
speaking to my fellow speakers and debaters who compete in Stoa, a national
Christian homeschool speech & debate league. I hope to offer you some words
of encouragement, and perhaps some little wisdom which I have gleaned over my
years of competition.
That
is not to say that no one else will be able to benefit from these thoughts.
This is a heartfelt message to anyone who competes, who buries himself in his
drive for success, who searches for worth in his accomplishments.
Speech
& debate has been a huge part of my life for the last three years. My
sophomore year is when I first grew obsessed with the interpretive speeches, limited
preparation, platforms, wild cards, and debate events which make up the world
of forensics. Breaking at tournaments gave me an adrenaline rush I had never
felt before, and have never felt since. And like so many others, I became overtaken
with the desire to win. As a
naturally competitive person with relentless drive, I competed in every
possible event, seeking to win every possible trophy. The standards I set for
myself were brutal, and the fallout more so when I failed to meet those
standards.
But at
my last tournament, the National Invitational Tournament of Champions, I had a
strange sort of epiphany during the awards ceremony. Time after time, the
competitors lined up beside the stage. And time after time, the
quarterfinalists were called up. Then the semifinalists. Then the finalists.
Then the final three were left onstage—the third place winner was called up—the
last two gasped and hugged one another—and then the runner-up was announced.
The champion covered his mouth with his hands. Or more dramatically fell to his
knees. Or something of that nature.
This
happened every single time. I was
struck with the realization that the same thing would happen next year, for
each one of these events. And it would happen the next year, and the next, and
the next. The NITOC champions of this year would fade into oblivion.
And
what of the other seven finalists? The difference between first, second, third,
and even fourth place, I knew, was miniscule. In a different room, or with a
different panel of judges, or even on a different day, the results very well
might have been entirely different. The person in eighth place could very well
have been first.
This
year I am coaching in my club, for the first time without the added
responsibility of competing. For the first time, I am seeing the intensity of
forensic competition from the outside. And I have a few words of wisdom for
those of you who are still in it.
#1. Do not let judges assign your worth as
a competitor. I know how it feels to compete. I know what it is like to put
all your stock into the opinion of a few judges sitting in a room. But you must
believe me that your skill and talent as
a competitor are not always defined by your final placing.
I have known
wonderful speakers and debaters who have not broken or qualified to Nationals.
Judges are people, real people, with their own opinions, just like you. Every
ballot is from God, and sometimes, you will lose not by any fault of your own,
but just because someone else needed to win that day. You can be incredibly
skilled and talented, and yet not break to finals.
This is not meant
to be interpreted as permission to be arrogant. But if all your coaches and
friends tell you in all honesty that you are talented, and the judges tell you
otherwise, the fault is not always in your coaches and friends.
#2. Do not let judges assign your
worth as a person. On the other hand, there will also be times when you
will lose, and you will deserve to lose. Sometimes we really do fail because we
are not good enough.
But the difficult
truth is that you don’t have to be good
enough.
Speech &
debate is like a microcosm of society. The intense nature of competition wakes
up the drive to succeed within us, and forces us to realize that, deep in our
hearts, we really do think that we are only worthy of life if we accomplish
great things. But when you have done all you can do, and your best was not good
enough, I pray that you will turn to the One who does not expect you to be good,
and who instead makes you perfect.
Paradoxically,
Christianity states that mankind is incapable of true goodness, but is capable
of true perfection through the death and life of Jesus. Your identity is
perfection in Jesus Christ, not a number on Speechranks. The beauty of Christianity
is that even when you don’t break, even when you fail to communicate to the
judges, even when you are not good at what you do, you remain absolutely
perfect.
Learn to fail with
joy, because failure is not the end. It is not even the beginning.
#3. Don’t sell your soul for a trophy.
Listen to me
closely. This is important.
You are a
uniquely gifted, individually formed, marvelous individual who has deep
passions and beautiful thoughts. You have something worthwhile to say, and that
is really why you are here—because your words matter.
Trophies are
wonderful, because trophies inspire us to discover new and more effective ways
of delivering our message. But the moment that a trophy inspires you to abandon
your message in order to please judges, it has become a distraction from what
really matters.
You should always
take advice, listen to the wisdom of others, and try to do better. But there
are times when a judge or a coach or a friend will give you advice that you
should not follow, even if that advice would allow you to win. If you believe
that Apologetics ought to speak to unbelievers, maybe you shouldn’t include more Bible verses. If you believe that
interpretive speeches ought to be visually as well as narratively interesting, maybe
you shouldn’t simplify your blocking.
You are an
individual. You have beliefs. You have passions. And you have a God-given
message to deliver. If certain advice would cause you to win, but it would also
cause you to violate the message of your conscience, do not follow that advice.
The judge’s word is not law. Consider every criticism you receive with wisdom
and discernment, and if you believe it is wrong, discard it.
Even if it costs
you a trophy or two.
A
friend of mine once said that every speaker’s goal should not be to win NITOC,
but instead to write and deliver the best speech there ever was. There is a
great deal of truth in this statement. Rather than crafting a speech to win
NITOC, craft a speech that is so well written, heartfelt, and important that it
deserves to win NITOC. If you do
this, every time you give that speech, you can rest in the knowledge that your speech matters, whether or not you win
with it.
#4. View your achievements with humility. There were better
speakers before you, and there will be better speakers after you. You are
blessed for a few short years to hone your skills in one of the most
exhilarating competitions known to man. Enjoy that competition, but don’t lose
yourself in it.
When you win,
remember that on a different day, at a different time, with different judges,
someone else very well might have beaten you. Give God the glory for your
accomplishments. After all, is it not silly to think highly of ourselves for
winning a competition when the very breath with which we speak is not our own?
To conclude, I
encourage you to find joy in the words you speak. Speak words of life, of
truth, of love. Learn from your coaches. Win with humility. Lose with grace.
Remember that your passions and abilities and thoughts all come from your
Creator, and He will guide you through these precious years of your life.
Remember also
that this will end. There is life after speech and debate—so much life. This is
the training ground for the battlefield of the world which you must someday
face (indeed, you have likely already begun to face it). Take this opportunity
to learn all you can, while you can. In the words of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s Hamilton, “Do not throw away your shot!”
The prophet
Isaiah once lamented, “I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of
unclean lips, and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord Almighty.” There is some
disagreement over what Isaiah meant when he said he had “unclean lips,” but it
is not impossible that he was referring to his own speech. The words of mankind
are dirty and destructive, wicked and warlike. We are all of us people of
unclean lips.
But praise God, for
He has touched our lips and cleansed them. And now we need not feel fear in the
presence of the Lord. He has taken your words of perverseness and replaced them
with words of perfection.
Speak without
fear, for you are loved.
And when you hear
the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send? And who will go for us?”, you
are free to speak the words of the prophet Isaiah:
“Here am I! Send
me!”
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