The Story in My Head


I just finished reading Rising Strong this last week. It’s the first book I’ve read by Brene Brown, and I loved it, which is evidenced by how many page corners I folded down to remind me where my favorite passages were…

The whole book is amazing, full of many different ideas which I will be mentally chewing on for some time, but the one which impacted me the most was the idea of “the stories we tell ourselves”. She writes about the tendency we have to fill in missing details in our effort to understand ourselves, as well as other people.

“Storytelling helps us all impose order on chaos—including emotional chaos. When we’re in pain, we create a narrative to help us make sense of it. This story doesn’t have to be based on any real information. One dismissive glance from a coworker can instantly turn into I knew she didn’t like me. Our stories are also about self-protection. I told myself Steve was blaming me so I could be mad instead of admitting that I was vulnerable or afraid of feeling inadequate. I could disengage from the tougher stuff. That’s what human beings tend to do: When we’re under threat, we run. If we feel exposed or hurt, we find someone to blame, or blame ourselves before anyone else can, or pretend we don’t care.”  (source)

I love to analyze, and I spend a lot of time in my own head, trying to figure things out. This can lead to some nasty storytelling, which I’ve been aware of for a long time, but it wasn’t until I read this book that it became clear to me while I was in the process of doing it.

It was one of those long, bumpier than normal kind of days, and I had already helped our sweet children through a long list of complaints, negative attitudes, and many other parenting challenges by the time Ben got home from work. While he was still by the door, yet another behaviour issue exploded, and I reached my limit. Ben could tell I was done for the day, and any parenting after that point could get a bit scary, so he, in an effort to be helpful, said, “Why don’t you go into the other room and let me handle this?”

Because of the frustration of the moment, I misunderstood his intent – Ben was trying to be helpful, but I thought he was telling me to go to the other room because I couldn’t keep calm while dealing with the situation. Instead of getting mad at our kid, I got mad at Ben. I held it in until I got to our bedroom, but I was furious with him, and feeling extremely justified. How dare he suggest that I was not capable of parenting our children in an appropriate manner? How could he make such a comment in front of our kids, criticizing my self-control and ability to handle the situation? “Somehow,” I thought to myself, “I manage to care for all three children every single day, all day long, while he is off relaxing in his office at work without any tantrums, screaming, or bad attitudes exploding in his face repeatedly!” (Like all he does all day is relax, but in the moment, I was not entirely reasonable!)

As these very heated thoughts blazed their way through my mind, Brene Brown’s question popped up: “What story am I making up in my head?” Immediately, I started to get curious. Why was I responding this way? What was making me so mad? What was going on behind all this anger?

The realization struck me – I was taking Ben’s words and interpreting them in a way which fueled insecurities about my parenting, rather than hearing what he was actually saying. He was offering me a break after a long day, but I was taking it as criticism of my parenting, and responding with anger on the surface, when deep down, I was actually feeling hurt and insecure in my parenting. I was ashamed that I couldn’t keep things under control, and disappointed with myself for how the day had gone.

It’s a lot harder to be honest about insecurity than about anger, but it makes for a much calmer, less explosive conversation. Because my issue was not even about anger, we would have gotten nowhere trying to work out what was making me “mad”, until I could recognize what was truly going on underneath. Once our kids were in bed, we had time to talk it over, and I couldn’t believe how much harder it was to tell him I was feeling shame and inadequacy as a parent, as well as hurt because I misunderstood his offer to help as a subtle sign of judgement.

I wanted to be mad, because it was easier, but admitting to the messier stuff underneath brought things to the surface which I needed to work through on my own, and had nothing to do with Ben.

Brene Brown Quotesource

It is really tempting to deny responsibility, or deny the messy, ugly truth deep down inside us. But that incident with Ben, which really had nothing to do with Ben, made me feel so much better when I could identify what was truly going on, and face the messy stuff. I still have a lot more internal housecleaning to do, but it makes a big difference already to be aware of these feelings of insecurity or inadequacy I have as a parent, and the lies they’re telling me.

All of this makes me curious about what else is lurking down there. I think I have a lot more stories to explore, and some brave new endings to write!

For Anyone Longing to Belong

A few years ago, Anika took her first acting class at the Manitoba Theatre for Young People, and I will never forget what Ben’s mom said when she saw Anika’s first performance that Christmas. She said, “Anika has so much more confidence – she acts like she’s not asking anyone’s permission to be there anymore.”

I sat there for a few seconds as that hit me – I could see that change in Anika myself, but what was sinking in for me in that moment was that I suddenly realized how I’ve spent my whole life waiting for someone to give me the permission to be here.

In some situations, I think I can come across fairly confident, but the truth is that most of the time, deep down inside me, I enter a situation feeling hesitant, and holding back, waiting for someone to draw me in, make me feel included, give me the permission to be there.

I try to hide it as best I can – I never want anyone to know that I’m dealing with insecurity, because I’m embarrassed to be 36 years old, and still struggling with something that seems so junior high-ish. But the truth is, I still carry scars from junior high, when I was told over and over again that I didn’t belong.

But then I get curious – surely I can’t be the only person who feels this way. How many other adults are there, right around me, who also carry some secret, hidden longing to be included, to really feel as though they belong, and there’s a spot for them that will remain a gaping hole unless they fill it?


A friend told me the other day that she doesn’t understand this struggle. She enters every situation, thinking, “Who WOULDN’T want to be my friend??! I have Jesus in me, and I am an asset to every situation I encounter!”

I love it. I want to be that way. But I think there’s some old, deep-rooted junk that I’ll need to deal with first.

As I’ve been reading the book, Can You Hear Me?, I came across a fascinating exercise:

Picture yourself standing beside Jesus in front of a mirror. Imagine that he’s just exhaled a big gust of steam onto the mirror. If he were to use his fingertip to write a message on the mirror about your true identity, what would he write? Read it.

I decided to give this a try. I spent some time quieting my thoughts, and then I did exactly as the author suggested. I asked Jesus, “What do you want to say to me about my identity?”

Immediately, a word appeared: it was the word belong.

And suddenly, I felt as though this great, deep, consuming hunger and longing overtook me. How I desire to feel as though I belong!

Ann Voskamp once wrote a beautiful blog post about how we can always know we belong, because God longs to be with us – we belong. That’s stayed with me. And it makes me wonder if I’ve spent years being mistaken about my longing.

As we’ve moved from place to place, and I’ve made friends again and again, I keep wanting to feel like I’m home – like I’ve found the place I’m meant to be, and I belong. So I have these huge expectations of what that will look like and feel like, and then I’m disappointed each time, which leads me to wonder if I can really, truly belong.

But what if that hunger for home, that desire to belong, is all just this longing I have to be with Jesus? To be known deeply and fully, and to stop searching and striving, to stop being disappointed when others don’t give me the permission for being here, because it was never theirs’ to give?

I remember reading Psalm 139 over and over again as a teenager –

“You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways….”

There was something in that which spoke to my longing even then. I wanted to be known. I wanted to be searched out, sought after. I needed to be reminded of how He longed to be with me.

My friend, the one who is an asset in every situation, said to me, “What if this whole time, it’s been a lie? What if you’ve always belonged, but you can’t see it, because you’ve been believing a lie?”

It’s true, isn’t it? Since the day I became a Christian, I’ve always belonged to the only One who matters. He knows me, and He goes with me, and I need no other permission to be exactly where I am.

The lie has robbed me, not only of the security that’s been there for me all along, but also from the chance to help others feel it, too. When I spend all of my time wondering if there’s a place from me, I have no room to see the person beside me who’s wondering it, too.

Uproot me source

And so we all need to hang onto the truth that He longs to be with us, He gives us freedom from the lie that we don’t belong, and He gives us the security to go out, and share that truth with everyone around us.

So today, whether this is something you struggle with yourself or not, wouldn’t it be awesome to go out there, and say, “With Christ inside of me, I am an asset to every situation! I have everything I need to give to someone else who is lonely and hurting, and I can cover each person with truth and peace.”

We already have permission!;)

Pouring Everything At Jesus’ Feet

Well, I feel like we’ve had a few weeks of me baring all of my ugly insecurities and secret thoughts. That Beth Moore. She unearths all kinds of unexpected junk. Here’s a list of the topics we’ve covered in this little series on insecurity:

Introduction: Insecure Much?

Part 1: What’s Your “One Thing”?

Part 2: I Want to Be the Best

Part 3: When We Try to Play God

Today we’re going to look at a story from the Bible that has been one of my favorites for a few years.

It’s the story about the woman who pours perfume on Jesus’ feet. There is something that has always made me feel slightly uncomfortable about that story. I think it’s because it’s a story about a moment so intimate that you almost feel like you shouldn’t be part of it – kind of like when you catch a couple kissing when they think they’re alone.

Or like the time we turned our baby monitor on, and instead of picking up our base, it picked up our neighbor’s base, and we could hear him singing his little girl to sleep. (Different house, so you don’t have to try to figure out who it was!)

Some things are so beautiful and personal, you feel the need to look away, but at the same time, you don’t want to, because those moments are like a window into a person’s soul. You feel like you just want to catch a glimpse…

The story of Jesus being anointed with perfume is one of those glimpses. I’ve read that story so many times – I can still remember the illustration in my old Picture Bible: with her long, long hair, bending over Jesus feet, crying and wiping, completely broken before Him.

That picture in itself is a beautiful, vulnerable thing, but there is another whole dimension added to it – she was displaying that vulnerability in front of a room full of men.

Because of being a woman, she would already have been looked down on, but even more so because the Bible specifies that she “had lived a sinful life”.

I try to imagine what she must have been feeling that moved her to do what she did…

Have you ever been in a place where Jesus has gripped your heart? You’ve gone to the depths to clean out the junk from the past, you’ve been showered with His grace, and you feel so full of Him, so grateful and humbled and broken but whole? Nothing really matters but being one with Him. You want to get as close as possible, and desire a way to praise Him enough, thank Him enough for all that He’s done.

I imagine the woman feeling a bit like that.

So she got out the alabaster jar of perfume, took it to the home of a Pharisee, went into that room full of men, and worshiped Jesus in the most whole way that she could – all of her, poured out. Her perfume, her tears, her hair, her heart. All of it at Jesus’ feet, with everybody watching.

And it didn’t matter to her that everybody was watching, because all she cared about was Jesus. Her heart was so full, Jesus was all that mattered.

There are many, many times I’ve thought about that when I’ve been in a room full of people.

I want to live a life so full of Jesus, my heart so full of thankfulness and worship and love, that I don’t even see, don’t even care who is watching or what they think. I want to rise above every insecure thought I’ve ever had, and permanently live in a place where Jesus is everything, and always enough.

I want to be vulnerable, and I want to serve and love Jesus with my whole being, to the point where I pour out everything.

Because you know what Jesus said in defense of that woman? When Judas spoke up and voiced his negative opinion about her actions, Jesus said,

“Leave her alone….Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me….She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. I tell you the truth, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.” (Mark 14:6-9)

Amazing, isn’t it? “Wherever the gospel is preached…” She just poured out her heart, and Jesus took it as the ultimate act of worship.

He called it beautiful.

It makes me wonder how He feels when we allow the lies of this world to creep in, and we start to feel ashamed, inadequate, ugly, unwanted, unworthy. We hide some parts of ourselves away, and curl into ourselves, because the most precious things we want to protect. We couldn’t bear if someone who saw it would mock or criticize.

But that guarded spirit can be contagious. Others can feel it when we are not transparent and vulnerable. So they start to hide certain things away, too. And before long, we end up in a world where a certain image is everything, and we must be so careful to portray only a carefully constructed front.

And the people who are comfortable with public displays of crying, perfume-dumping and hair-wiping are considered the weird ones.

But Jesus calls it beautiful.

Insecurity is a slippery thing. It can disguise itself in many ways, as we’ve talked about over the last two weeks. It can dampen our spirits, break our souls, and cause people to hide their true selves. It can hinder the way we worship and live out our relationship with Jesus.

What would happen if we would decide we don’t want that anymore? If we would embrace those vulnerable moments, and courageously worship in a transparent way?

I think Jesus might call  it beautiful….

How are you doing? Do you feel like you can show your true self? Are you free to pour yourself at Jesus’ feet, or do you hold back because of who is watching?

Insecure Much? (Part 2): I Want to Be the Best

Well, that just sounds really bad when you put it right out there in the open, hey?

But it’s the painful truth, and I’ve become more and more aware of it since reading Beth Moore’s book, So Long, Insecurity.

People often think insecurity comes from a negative self-image, and being really down on yourself all the time. But Beth Moore suggests that often, the root of insecurity is not low self-esteem, but rather…pride.

Once again, I was surprised by what I learned, and even more surprised by what I uncovered in my own life. I had never recognized the pride in me that was feeding my feelings of insecurity. I had bought into that whole “I need to love myself, and accept myself. I need to feel special, and that’s how I will overcome insecurity.”

Being the poor “victim” in need of love sounds much less sinful than being prideful, doesn’t it?

Here’s how this whole thing works:

We see someone who is very gifted and talented, or fantastic with people, or model-beautiful, and we start feeling insignificant or awkward or ugly or whatever other undesirable feelings that might arise. We realize we are not the best in the whole comparison game. And that can hurt a person’s pride.

I hate to admit it, but how often do I long to be the best? How often do I secretly wish to be the smartest, the best-dressed, the best parent, of the best kids, the most talented, the funniest, the most spiritual…

The list could go on so long, it’s embarrassing.

That kind of thinking turns life into a competition. It means that every time I am in the presence of other women, I am “ranking” myself.

Beth Moore writes,

Most of us aren’t in a public place for five minutes before we peruse the female players in the room and judge where we rank.(p. 279, So Long, Insecurity)

Apparently I’m not the only one who has thought that way, which is the only reason why I’m brave enough to admit it. I’m totally guilty of being in a room, checking out the other women and comparing myself to them, trying to figure out who’s the “best” and in what categories. If I don’t come out on top, who am I beneath? What is my “place” in the room?

Oh, that looks so ugly typed out on the screen. But can you relate?

I was curious about this. I’ve always felt yucky, alone, critical, and awful for thinking stuff like that, and to finally acknowledge it was happening in my life was very hard, but also a kind of relief.

I started wondering how common these thoughts were among females. So I spent some time with a fantastic group of girls, talking about this sense of competition.

And the result was absolutely amazing. Girls started opening up about their insecurities, the areas in which they felt most weak and undesirable. They shared the strengths they took pride in, and we could all relate and laugh together, instead of compete against each other. It was the best experience I’ve ever had in an all-female setting.

The goal in our female relationships should be to encourage one another’s security. (p. 279, So Long, Insecurity)

What holds us back from doing more of that? For me, it’s the simple, ugly fact that I don’t want to encourage the competition.

So now what?

I was at such a loss that I went to my mentor. I confessed all of those ugly, prideful thoughts to her, and asked her how in the world I could be free.

And she told me to start praying. She said that whenever jealousy reared it’s ugly head, I should start praying for the woman I felt jealous of. She said I should pray that God would richly bless that woman as she went about using her God-given abilities.

That is not an easy, natural response, but I have found that it does wonders. It takes my focus off me, my pride, and my silly sense of competition, and it gets the focus back on God and how much He loves each of these beautiful, wonderful women that I come in contact with.

What about you – can you relate too? Have you ever felt like you wanted to be the best?

Insecure Much (Part 1): What’s Your “One Thing”?

So yesterday I let you all know about my newest little blog series about insecurity. I’ve been learning a ton from Beth Moore’s book, So Long, Insecurity, and I want to share with you some of the things that I’ve been working through as a result.

To start things off, I’ll give you a little tip on how to figure out what your biggest area of insecurity might be.

Beth Moore writes that if you want to figure out what your “soft spot” is, the area where you are most vulnerable, just try to figure out what is the one thing that you would change about yourself, if you could.

She calls this “a prominent false positive: one thing that we think would make us more secure in all things.

She writes,

Think of the person you believe to be secure and determine what earthly thing he or she has that you don’t feel like you possess, at least in matching measure….Needless to say, we would all like any number of things to give us the security we’re after, but we each have a tendency to prioritize one above the rest….Often we’re not even aware of it, but we demonstrate it by the inordinate power we assign to it. (p.37)

I read that, and thought, “I really don’t think that’s true in my life. I don’t think I have just one thing that sums up my insecurity.” But I wanted to be a good sport, so I spent some time thinking and praying about it.

What finally came to me was kind of surprising.

For me, it’s health. I often start to think that if I could overcome the health issues that I’m still trying to deal with once and for all, I would be perfectly happy.

I watch the other moms here at camp with their kids, and they seem to have boundless energy. They seem to do endless amounts of crafts with their kids, have never-ending amounts of patience, and run all over camp with their children. I used to watch out the window as my friend Terra-Lee went sailing past our house on her bike with all her children in tow.

And then I would look at my house that was a mess, because I was exhausted and had no energy to deal with it. My kitchen was pure chaos, because my health requires me to stay on a very restricted diet that’s a ton of work. And my hips give me so much trouble that I can’t even go for walks, never mind a bike ride.

I would feel very sorry for myself, and I would think, “If only I was completely healthy, then I would be the one biking, and having the time and energy for crafts and cleaning, and parenting with all the energy and patience that everybody else has. I would be able to have as many babies as I would choose to have instead of being restricted by my body, and my whole life would be wonderful….if only I was completely healthy.”

So positive, right? I didn’t feel that way all the time, just on the bad days.

But Beth Moore is right – I do have a soft spot, and my “one thing” is health. I was longing for the health that others seem to have, I was pouring a lot of time and money into trying to achieve it, and if you would ever want to crush me, all it would take is telling me that I looked like I was “wasting away” (yes, that was a direct quote), and looking tired, run-down, and unhealthy. Then I would go away and cry, and feel discouraged about absolutely everything in my life. I felt insecure about how I was doing as a mom and as a wife, and I felt insecure about how I looked and what other people thought of me.

I thought that everything would just be better if I was healthy and vibrant and full of energy.

But you know what? As long as I was thinking about all of that junk, as long as I was wishing for the life that someone else seemed to have, as long as I was feeling sorry for myself, I was never be able to see myself the way God sees me. If I’m thinking about what I don’t have or comparing myself to other people, I can’t focus on God. My thoughts are focused on myself and on the little pity party that can kick into high gear at a moment’s notice.

That’s my soft spot.

I found out what it was, but I also found out what to do with it. I need to surrender it over to God, and allow Him to heal it. I need to stop the pity party, and start filling my mind with thoughts that are glorifying to Him.

Sometimes identifying the soft spot already makes the hugest difference. I realized that I was unconsciously thinking a lot of harmful thoughts in a day. When I figured out what my “one thing” was, I was able to stop those thoughts, and replace them.

And it’s always possible to replace those thoughts: I am so much healthier than I used to be. And maybe I’m not biking all over the place with my girls, but we sure have fun snuggled up on the couch, reading books. Maybe my diet is a lot of work and really restricted, but at least I’ve found a way to function well and feel good.

My negative thoughts were feeding the insecurity I had about my health. I was constantly comparing myself to others, and only seeing all the ways in which I was not strong enough, not good enough, just….never enough.

But Ben often says, “It is what it is.” This is the life and the body that God has blessed me with. It’s not perfect, and that is okay. In His eyes, I will always be enough. Instead of continually focusing on that one thing, I need to keep looking to Him. He heals the hurt and the insecurities, and the years of not measuring up.

So what’s your spot? It might take some thinking to figure out, but I think it would be worth the effort. What is the one thing that you think would make everything better in your life, and then take it to God and ask Him to heal you and free you.

Anyone brave enough to share? I’m kinda curious about your “one thing”...

(If it’s way too scary to share something like that publicly, you can always send me an email! I’d love to hear from you.)

Insecurity and the Ultimate Time Machine

I am discovering that insecurity can be the ultimate time machine.

It is amazing how I can be going along, living my somewhat normal, somewhat mature adult life, and suddenly one little event, or one conversation, can hit a sensitive spot, and instantly I am transported back to junior high.

This happened to me just yesterday. Ben and I were talking about some issue that I was having, just something small, but suddenly what Ben was saying cut really close to one of those sensitive spots, and before either of us quite knew how we got there, I had flared up like a mad hornet.

Ben very delicately tried to suggest that I go spend some time praying and figuring out what the real issue was, because it was obvious that our conversation had struck an old, deep root.

I knew he was right, which was very annoying in that moment, and I went off to sulk/pray. (It’s very hard to stay sulky for long when you’re praying, by the way.) And I was completely thrown off guard by what I unearthed as I tried to pull up all the roots of that old, nasty issue.

Those kinds of things can hide really well, and disguise themselves in such a clever way that we don’t always know what we’re dealing with.

So guess what I discovered? As I was praying, and asking God to heal me of old hurts and insecurities, He brought me back to grade seven. I carry loads of baggage from grade seven. It was a bad year for me. It was the year that I learned just how cruel girls can be to each other, and I have a ton of emotional scars to prove it.

Ben’s words had hit on those scars. That sensitive spot brought me right back to lunchtime in grade seven, when I sat alone day after day, because the group of girls I was trying to be friends with would quickly shove their uneaten food into their bags and rush away as soon as I sat down at their table. Sitting there by myself felt like a public announcement to everyone around that I was unwanted, rejected, alone.

I love being alone at home, by the lake, going for walks. But to this day, I do not like being alone in a crowd of people, because it makes me feel unwanted. It’s that old public announcement that no one wants to be with me, even though in my head, I know it’s not true.

The worst part of it is that it’s very hard to reach out to other people when my hands are too busy carrying old baggage.

photo © 2010 Anthony Masi | more info (via: Wylio)

So I worked through some baggage yesterday. I did some unpacking. And the most interesting thing happened as I prayed through all that junk. For the first time since grade seven, God gave me the perspective of what it was like for those girls. I had never thought about them or about what they were going through. Little things kept coming to mind that now as an adult, I can see and understand that I did not, back in junior high.

I can see that they were hurting, too. They were also insecure. They hurt me out of their own hurt.

And don’t we do that all the time? Trying to understand things from the other person’s perspective helps us to see that most of the time, people are not trying to be mean. They don’t try to hurt us. They are just experiencing hurt themselves, and it makes all of us a little dysfunctional.

Everybody has junk that needs to be healed and loved away. We all have these roots that lead to something deep, and with all those roots around, someone’s bound to trip on them, and yank a little at the sensitive spots.

I don’t really know how God heals it, but I’m just going to ask Him to, every time a sensitive spot gets hit. I want to give it to Him over and over again, and I’m guessing that with time, those spots will start to heal.

And my time-machine trips back to junior high will stop. I’ll be able to travel lighter, without all that baggage, and my hands will be free more often for reaching out to others.

How about you – where does your time machine take you?

What Can I Be Good At?

So I’ve mentioned before that Donald Miller’s new video series is amazing. (Go here if you want to find out more about it.)

We watched another segment of this series at our camp church night a few weeks ago, and I loved it. Donald Miller and Dr. Henry Cloud were talking about self-esteem and the ways in which we seek it for ourselves, as well as for our kids.

While encouragement is a great thing, Dr. Henry Cloud shared that, contrary to popular belief, praise and compliments are not what will build a healthy self-esteem.

He said that working hard and accomplishing good things is what actually gives us a sense of self-worth. Becoming better at something will give us confidence as we do it. He explained that the first time you try something new, you will be hesitant and unsure of yourself. But once you’ve done it a number of times, and know you can do it well, you will do it with confidence.

When we’re attempting something new, and feeling out of our comfort zones, compliments will not build confidence. No matter how many nice things someone says to us, we will still feel unsure of ourselves until we’ve learned how to do it.

I see this with Anika all the time. When we color together, she oohs and ahs over my pictures, and gets really discouraged about her own. She so badly wants her pictures to look like my drawings. I can verbally build her up all I want, but she’s not dumb. She knows that her drawing is not like mine – she can see it for herself.

All the compliments in the world will not disguise the fact that I draw like an adult who took 6 years of art lessons, and she draws like a seven-year-old.

My encouragement might help her to keep practicing, but it doesn’t give her confidence.

What has made the biggest difference in her confidence and enthusiasm to keep trying is actually teaching her how to do it better.

Fridays are “Fun School” days for us. We finish up the “serious” stuff quickly, and then we get out her art book. We’re using this fun book called “Draw Write Now”, and she loves it, because she can see for herself that she is improving.

She’s having fun and she’s becoming more confident.

I love watching it happen. And I’m noticing that instead of getting frustrated, she has learned herself that she just needs to practice, and it will get better.

It makes me think about my own life. When I evaluate things, I can definitely see confidence and enjoyment in the areas where I have experience and ability.

So what about the areas that frustrate me, and make me feel all down on myself? Am I going to sit around and pout because of my inadequacy and lack of confidence, or am I going to do something about it?

Because here’s my little secret: I am scared of big groups of people. I love one-on-one conversations. But walking into a room full of people is extremely intimidating for me. As soon as I’m settled in some corner with someone to talk to, and we can get to the one-on-one stuff, I’m good. It’s just getting there that makes me feel SO uncomfortable and insecure.

Now let’s face it – all the practice in the world cannot make me great at EVERYTHING.  God created each of us with gifts, and we accomplish the most when we all work together. My time would be best spent improving my strengths rather than chasing after all of the things I’m not good at, trying to become an expert.

But if there’s something small I could do to try to face my fears and get rid of some of my insecurities, that would seem like a logical, mature thing to do, right?

I thought about that for a bit, trying to figure out how to face my insecurities over large groups of people. And I couldn’t think of anything.

So I googled it! And I found a huge list of fantastic suggestions on how to deal with overcoming shyness and insecurity in large groups of people! Now I can’t wait for the next time I’m in that kind of a situation so that I can try out all the new tips! So much better than dreading it and feeling miserable about it.

I definitely want to find my identity and self-worth in Christ, but I think that if there are ways to learn and grow and mature, that’s good, too!


So what do you think? Is there an area you could work on that would get rid of insecurity in your life? Are you up for learning something new?