How can I champion you if I’m this insecure about me? (Part 1)

You know that feeling deep down in your gut after someone casually says something in passing that somehow makes you feel like an inch small? They might not have even intended the comment to be directed at you, yet you still feel the twinge of hurt feelings, which often take root and lead your mind and heart toward frustration, anger, and even resentment. At that point, we’re no longer able to love others out of our heart overflow because the overflow is now solely focused on bringing our own hot mess back to a place of self-assurance.

Last year, I remember a specific time where I spent way too much time throwing my own little pity party over something rather trivial. Of course now I can look back and realize how I blew things completely out of proportion, but in that moment my insecurity peaked.

I was sitting at our dinner table with some dear friends and laughing about all sorts of topics, from the silliness of Americans over Halloween to the hilarity of Kenyans eating spicy chili and grating all of the cheese just to tone it down. My six month daughter Lyla was sitting in my lap, and we all somehow got started talking about pacifiers. One of our Kenyan friends has a son around Lyla’s age, and he mentioned that his son has never used a paci. Someone else then commented,

“Well it’s probably better in the long-run that he doesn’t take a paci anyways, right?” 

…As Lyla sits there with the pacifier proudly in her mouth, while I try to muster up enough energy to chuckle alongside my friends and pretend to wholeheartedly agree. 

But internally, I was actually freaking out (while still wearing a smile of course…). “She’s right,” I thought. “It’s definitely better in the long-run for your child not to use a paci!” All of my mothering inadequacies began to surface, and my thoughts ran wild about how I really have no idea what I’m doing and how my friend clearly thinks so-and-so is a much better mom than me. 

Better yet, my imagination jumped to Lyla’s forever ruined future because obviously “now she’s going to be sucking on that thing until she’s ten!” 

My defensive mechanisms then kicked in, which of course led to other feelings I’m embarrassed to even admit. “Well she’s not a mom, so she doesn’t know what she’s talking about… And their son might not use a pacifier, but at least Lyla doesn’t ____.” 

I could keep going down this stream of consciousness, but I think you get the point. I mean my goodness, I’m exhausted simply recounting this whole scenario! I say all of this not wanting to glorify or lighten my own sin by any means, but to show you how quickly one harmless statement can send us spiraling if our security is misplaced. 

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I later fleshed out all of these thoughts with my husband, and he (bless him and his level-headed wisdom) helped me realize how the reasoning behind my hurt came from something much deeper than my friend’s harmless comment. It came from my identity being in something other than Jesus.

For years, I have been placing so much significance and purpose in how I perform, and in this instance, with how I perform in being a mom. I honestly didn’t realize that I found so much of my identity in what I do and how I do it until I had Lyla almost a year ago. It took living in a season of changing yet another diaper and cleaning dishes without a dishwasher and nursing her every three hours becoming how I spent much more of my time than “being out there doing ministry” for the reality of my heart to sink in. Enter identity crisis. Go ahead and throw some insecurities along with that.

I started to see how this pattern of basking in my own self-imposed anxiousness or constantly looking at how everyone else is living their lives was wearing me down, stealing my joy, and taking so much from me that I didn’t have much left to give to anyone else. Something had to give. I began to realize that maybe the overflow of my heart might look a little different if I could instead spend this season of life rediscovering what Jesus says of me…

That I am fully known (Psalm 139) and fully loved (1 John 3:1,16). I am His child (Gal. 3:26, Eph. 1:5). Nothing will separate me from His love (Rom. 8:35-39). He has not given me a spirit of fear (2 Tim. 1:7). My soul finds rest because His yoke is easy and His burden is light (Matth. 11:28-30). I can approach God’s throne with confidence (Heb. 4:14-16). And all of this is NOT from myself or anything I can bring to the table, but from the work Jesus did on our behalf on the cross. And it’s DEFINITELY not dependent on whether my child takes a pacifier or not… 

If who I am is not ultimately found in me being a parent, or a wife, or a missionary, or you name it, then those “attacks” as I used to see them won’t affect me as much, or at all, because my identity is secure in the person of Jesus. He is who defines me, not my successes or failures in my job, my relationships, my hobbies, my past, etc. He is who gives me my worth and purpose, not what others say or think of me.

I think back to how things could have been different had I been speaking these truths to myself that week. What if I was so anchored in what Scripture says of me, and in the confidence of being accepted by God, that I could hear things that differ from my own experiences or opinions, or even hear things meant to hurt, and still be at complete peace? 

Maybe instead of being hurt and confused by the “paci” comment, I could have been excited for my friends that their son sleeps well without a pacifier. I could have thought of all of the positive ways they parent their child and praised them for it right then, rather than wallowing in my silly little comparison game. And I could have been thankful that my other friend was complimenting this couple rather than taking it personally against myself.

As we begin to truly grasp who we are in Christ, that is when we can be free from trying to prove or defend our case to the world and turn our attention to championing others.

After all, Jesus came to serve, not to be served. He was mocked, beaten, and bruised, yet still loved the ones who gave the beating. How? Because He knew WHO HE IS and WHOSE HE IS. He didn’t need to defend because He knew how He was already defined. 

Personally, I want to get that definition down, too. Maybe then I can truly start to give myself away for others because how I measure up does not define me. What you say does not define me. Heck, what I do does not define me. He defines me, and He calls me loved, known, daughter… HIS.

Humbly yours,

*Part 2 will further discuss the practicalities on how a life lived in this kind of security can liberate us to instead place our focus on championing those around us.