I am a chronic people pleaser.
I love people dearly. I am called to a ministry of
discipleship. I love well and genuinely. I am an advocate for others.
But sometimes my greatest strengths foster my greatest
weakness. Just like Satan whispered Scripture in Jesus’ ear in an effort to
pervert His perspective, I sometimes use my gifting and abilities as a crutch
to prop up my skewed perception.
I am too concerned with what people think. I worry about
hurting people’s feelings, sometimes at the expense of authenticity and
appropriateness. I worry about what people think of me. I hate not being
affirmed, sometimes to the detriment of my willingness to be real, to let
people in, to allow myself grace to fail. Sometimes at the expense of truth. I hate the
attention I often give myself. I hate feeling inadequate of praise – “if they
only knew what I was hiding.” I hate feeling fear of judgment, like my whole
world would crash if people know and acknowledge that I am not perfect.
This is all pretty messy, but it is where I am today. For
the most part, people love me and affirm the Christ in me with vigor. How would
their perspective of me change if I was not working so hard at it? More
importantly, what is the real truth about who I am? I too often operate under the affirmations of others rather
the purity of my identity in Christ.
I have made some mistakes in my life. I have made mistakes
on this race. And although much grace has been extended to me, I am struggling
to receive it. The people pleaser in me is terrified that the real me is
fighting through to the surface.
loves well and fights for deep discipleship rather than superficial facade. The
me that strives to reflect praise Heavenward, receive affirmation with
humility, and is thankful that our God uses the weak things of the world to
shame the strong. More than anything, the me that refuses to be the main
character in my story. The me who won’t hide in quiet darkness or fear of man,
because it prohibits the work of Life and Light.
I am not trapped in people pleasing. It does not define me.
But I am also not totally free of it. And when it does manifest itself, it
looks and feels incredibly incompatible with the high character and deep
communion with God that I usually walk in. It hurts. And today I am hurting.
Thankfully, I serve a God who is not dependent on my perfection, and who is perfectly Good and Beautiful in all things.
And, thankfully, that same God is not finished with me yet.
