Lies I Used to Believe: Part 3

The Tightrope Performer

I was always a good kid—the type that adults love to pat on the back and whisper horrible things to like “I wish my kids were as well behaved as you,” or “could you teach my kids to be as good as you are?”

I’m not gonna lie. I loved the attention… even if it was kind of awkward to be compared to other kids in front of their faces. (Truth be told, if the adults who were patting me on the back knew the wickedness in my head, they’d have found another kid to daydream about cloning into their family.)

Partly because of this affirmation from adults, and partly because I’m an obsessive, type-A, somewhat neurotic first-born, I became a people pleaser. My bread and butter were compliments from people, and the worst thing anyone could do was tell me they were disappointed in me.

I’ll come back to this in a minute.

In my last post I talked about constructing a “tightrope for Jesus.” Essentially, trying to add habits and actions in my life that would make me more pleasing to God.

This was an easy thought to fall into because the president of the orphanage I worked for was constantly delivering messages about “how to win God’s favor in seven steps” or “the secret to unlocking God’s power.” There was always something to be done that would make you an even better Christian, according to this man.

As I set out to be “the best Christian ever,” I added many of this man’s “tips for success” to my life. I respected him, and took what he said as the gospel-truth. (I must point out here that the blame ultimately rests on me for not checking what he said against scripture. This man was definitely reinforcing a lie in my life—the lie that I was somehow in near-total control of God’s ability to love me—but it was my responsibility to check this lie against the authority of Scripture. I wish that I had.)

The list of ways to be a devoted Christian never ended. There was always something I could do better. Always. This became more and more frustrating to me. How could I know if I was good enough to have God’s favor? Every time I added new disciplines, this man I respected so much would reveal there were new areas for me to work on. I never knew if I was good enough, so I was always adding more religious habits, just in case.

Behavior was the name of the game, and I was behaving. But was I behaving enough?

For me, the answer to this came from the approval of others.

People started to compliment me on my fervor and devotion to God. They loved that I got up at 4 A.M. to read my Bible and pray. They admired my discipline in memorizing scripture. They wanted their kids to be like me… again.

I was back to people pleasing, but this time it let me know I was doing well. If these God-fearing adults thought I was good enough, then I must be doing okay. It became a way to medicate my doubts about my adequacy.

As my approval came from these individuals, it became more and more important to live out my disciplined life in front of them in order to receive their praise. I was addicted to the drug of their respect.

Accordingly, the tightrope of “extras” I had amassed to show God how much I loved Him quickly became a tightrope I set in plain sight of everyone. My rules and regulations became part of a performance I played out so that others could see me and applaud.

The lie I believed was that the opinions of others mattered. I truly thought that what other people thought of me affected how worthy I was to receive the favor of God in my life. Now I was not only adding religious extra credit to my life, but I was putting myself on display on that precariously high tightrope of actions and standards. I became a preachy, performing people-pleaser.

The truth is something that I didn’t even begin to learn until college. That truth was that the opinions of others have no bearing on my good standing with God. None whatsoever. Just like my actions have no bearing on if God accepts me or not.

But those are lessons I didn’t learn until I fell off my tightrope.

Next: The Fall