Public Speaking

According to the Statistic Brain Research Institute, “74% of people suffer from speech anxiety.”

68% of all statistics are made up on the spot. If that doesn’t muddle the matter enough, even accurate statistics can be misleading. Suppose that 74% of people really do suffer from speech anxiety. Well, what exactly does that mean? What qualifies as “speech anxiety?” Does sincerely hoping that everything goes well count as speech anxiety or must one break a sweat? This is what happens when you hand an amateur philologist a statistic. Give me are hard, scientific statistic and I’ll ask you to define your terms, please.

At any rate, it is safe to say that a lot of people get nervous about speaking in front of large groups of people. Personally, my “speech anxiety” most often manifests itself as a slightly queasy stomach and, sometimes, unsteady hands. To me, the size of the group matters less than the setting in which the group is. I can calmly facilitate activities for 100+ people who are moving around. On the other hand, standing up in front of that same 100+ people who are all sitting down and looking to you as “a speaker,” rather than “a facilitator”—different. And yet, despite the nerves, I am grateful for the opportunities I have had to address groups.

A couple weeks ago, I had the privilege to return to my home church in Beaver Falls and speak about my plans to go to Uganda at their evening service. A quick clarification: I am a member of College Hill Reformed Presbyterian Church in Beaver Falls. After graduating from college, I started work at Ligonier Camp and Conference Center in Ligonier, about 2 hours south of Beaver Falls. Since moving to Ligonier, I attend Pioneer Presbyterian Church (PCA). At this point, it feels like I have two home churches. In fact, when I go to Beaver Falls, I say I am going home, but when it is time to return to Ligonier, I use the same phrase. Technically speaking, though, College Hill is my home church.

It was a delight to be back in the church in which I have worshiped with my family for roughly nine years. I miss singing the Psalms. Pastor Titus preached on the story of Hagar and Ishmael being sent away. He made the point that Abraham exhibited a lack of faith by wanted to keep Ishmael around as a “back-up heir,” (my paraphrase) in case Isaac, the son of the Promise, didn't come through. With God, we can have no back-up plans. Either Jesus is our Savior and He alone, or nothing will save us, no matter how hard or how many things we try. I wanted to make the connection to my plans for Uganda: that I shouldn't have a back-up plan. Not a sound application, though. The promise of salvation falls into the category of God’s revealed will; what I will be doing next year (or 10 years from now for that matter) falls into the category of God’s hidden will, which I do not presume to know. As such, “back-up plans” can indicate prudence rather than disbelief. But I digress.

At the evening service, I spoke to those assembled about going to Uganda. I explained how I have heard about life and work on the mission from my college roommate and from friends and family members who have been there on short term mission trips. I briefly described the different ministries of the mission in Karamoja. I reported what I will be doing there. And I suggested ways for the congregation to join me: pray, support me financially (currently, I still need just under $10,000), and follow my blog. College student Nathan P., who unwittingly sat near my computer, graciously advanced the slides of my PowerPoint for me.

So, public speaking. Nerve-wracking? Yes, but on this particular occasion, not too bad. Just some mild stomach flip-flopping. (I just remembered, sometimes, when I am nervous, one or both of my knee-caps shake/slide around. It’s weird. Anyway…) I don’t know exactly why certain settings produce more apprehension than others. I was far more nervous when I gave the gospel talk at camp this past summer, and that was a much less formal setting--in a pavilion to a couple hundred kids who were all sitting on the ground. However, I do not need to analyze what causes speech anxiety. I am grateful for the opportunity to share with my home church what I will be doing this coming year. I am grateful knowing that my church family is praying for me and for the work in Karamoja. As I reflect on my two “home” churches and places that I call home, I wonder if the village of Nakaale, in Uganda, will soon become another of my homes and the family of believers there another home church.

*“Fear of Public Speaking – Statistic Brain.” 2014 Statistic Brain Research Institute, publishing as Statistic Brain. 11/23/13 http://www.statisticbrain.com/fear-of-public-speaking-statistics/

March

It has now been over a month since I posted. Not a particularly auspicious start to what I fully intend will be a faithfully updated blog. Unfortunately, the nature of “getting behind” is that the further behind one is, the more there is on which to catch up, and thus the more overwhelming a task it is. I will, therefore, keep this post more or less to the point of updating you on where I am in the process of preparing to go to Uganda.

There are a few of things that stand out from the month of March: some encouraging, some daunting, some both. This first one was both. I found out that I have been accepted into Duquesne University’s Master’s Program in Rhetoric and Philosophy of Communication. (Did I warn you that you are reading the blog of former philosophy major, amateur philologist, and nerd?) I am very excited at the prospect of going back to school and studying something as fascinating as rhetoric. Seriously! Rhetoric!?! How cool would that be? Duquesne’s Communication department is my top choice for graduate studies and also the first program to inform me of their decision. That is the encouraging part.

The more daunting part of this development is my decision to defer admission. Obviously, I cannot attend graduate school in Pittsburgh while serving in Karamoja, Uganda. Saying “Yes,” to one thing is always saying, “No,” to something else…at least for the time being. The slightly scary thing is that, by deferring, I said “No,” to something that is safe, relatively familiar, and fairly certain in order to say “Yes,” to going to Uganda—something that is still indefinite (contingent on funds), totally foreign to me, and less safe than my grandmother would like. My plan, Lord willing, is to go to Duquesne in the fall following my return to the states in 2016. Nevertheless, it was a sobering realization that if, for some reason, I am unable to go to Uganda, I have no immediate backup plan in place. Although somewhat dramatic and not entirely appropriate, Mike Curb Congregation’s song “Burning Bridges,” played in my head as I sent in my official letter of deferral.

And how is fundraising going? As of February 15, I stand at $2,050 out of $14,000. Now, as I am sure you are aware, February 15 was some time ago—about a month and a half, in fact. Within the past month and half, I know that several more people have given and/or pledged to give. However, due to when I receive updates from the OPC, I do not know what the current total is. I expect to find out within the next week what the total from March is and will pass that information along. Again, this is something that is both encouraging and daunting: daunting because $14,000 sounds like a lot of money to this camp intern; encouraging because people have already given and given generously.

I will close with a brief account of one last development that I found particularly encouraging. At the beginning of March, I spent a week co-leading a backpacking trip for Malone University students over their spring break. When I rejoined the world of showers and cell phone reception, I discovered that I had a voicemail from a family friend who wanted to discuss my plans to go to Uganda and how she and her family could support me. After a round of telephone tag, we finally connected. We talked about her daughter, who is going to Cyprus on a short term missions trip, about my plans and funding for Uganda, and about the work I will be doing there. As a homeschooling mother of six, she understands what I will be doing—working with the school and helping to tutor some of the missionary’s kids—in some ways, better than I do. At the time, I was feeling more overwhelmed than excited by “Operation Go To Uganda,” but talking with her remind me why I am going in the first place—because there is work to be done, and I can serve.