Everyone has their own source of confidence. Some walk, speak, and move with effortless ease as though the world itself applauds their every step. Their confidence often comes from something tangible, perhaps a talent they’ve mastered, a skill they’ve refined, or a beauty they’ve embraced. Others find confidence in their humor or charm, some in their voices or crafts. Those who excel in school tend to teach with authority. The athlete moves boldly because their body remembers victory. The artist stands tall because creation has become their companion. They do not seem to hide behind their insecurities because they have something that backs them up; something that shines.
2nd Corinthians 3:4-6:
Such is the confidence that we have through Christ toward God. Not that we are sufficient in ourselves to claim anything as coming from us, but our sufficiency is from God, who has made us sufficient to be ministers of a new covenant.
Even within us, confidence takes place in the smallest forms. In our bodies, the very cells that are responsible for protecting us, our white blood cells. These mighty warriors rush to defend us against harm. They chase down bacteria and viruses, engulfing and overcoming them with fearless purpose, making sure every foreign body that dares to threaten peace is taken care of. All this is done to protect us; that is their design, their programming, their mission. They do not question their worth. They simply are what were they were made to be.
I, too, am a creation of purpose. I am a child of God, redeemed and called out of sin by the blood of the Most High. I know this truth. Yet too often, I feel unworthy of His love, His blessings, His presence. When I fall short, I find myself unable to lift my eyes towards Him. I know I’ve been forgiven, and yet I cannot bring myself to ask for forgiveness.
God knows my thoughts even before I think them. He knows my heart, my longings, my quiet storms, and my restless search for meaning. Sometimes I wish for a spiritual mentor. One who would guide without judging, nor point fingers at my wrongdoings. I already know my faults; I don’t need another voice echoing them. I have tried to read my Bible consistently, tried to pray without ceasing, I have tried and tried, and yet I still feel like I’m at a standstill.
No day passes without me thinking about how I’m failing my Father in Heaven. My heart yearns for the day I might hear “Well done, my good and faithful servant,” for there is nothing I long for more than those words. Yet, now I wonder that perhaps I do not want it badly enough, because if I truly did, wouldn’t I have been more disciplined, more steadfast in my pursuit? Instead, I am trapped in a weary cycle of sin and repentance, unable to confide in anyone because I fear none would understand. I seek solace from places I know I shouldn’t, knowing better, yet not strong enough, rather I should confess, not willful enough to turn away.
Confidence has never come easily to me. I have spoken scripture, shouted affirmations, and built castles of self-belief in my life, only to watch them crumble under the weight of comparison and self-deprecation. There’s always someone better, smarter, prettier, and more accomplished. I know life isn’t about competition, but my mind was trained to keep score. I grew up praised for being the smartest, the most disciplined, the most hardworking, and, of course, I want to be the best. Now, I am exhausted, though, of the constant comparison between me and another. After all, it feels like I can never be truly happy, because someone will always be “better.”
Comparison really is the thief of joy. It makes true joy feel distant, as though happiness has conditions I can never meet. I find it hard to truly be a good friend when I am constantly measuring myself against others. Why can’t life be rainbows and sunshine? Why can't everything be tinted rose? Is life so serious that there needs to be someone on top for others to fall beneath?
But lately, I’ve been thinking about our mighty soldiers again; bold and unshaken in their protective purpose. That’s the kind of confidence I crave. That which I can move through life with quiet assurance, not arrogance, and to protect what I love, not compare it. I want to walk into a room not to be seen, but to see and recognize that every soul is fearfully and wonderfully made, just as I am. That none is greater nor lesser than the other, for we are all favored and redeemed by the same God.
So, where shall this confidence come from? Not from my grades, goals, or fleeting validation, no. This kind of confidence that can endure storms can only come from the Lord.
It is only through Him that I can love myself and therefore love my neighbors. It is only through Him that I can bless those who persecute me, and it is only through Him that I can be content with who He has created me to be.
Blessed are those who walk in the way of the Lord,
for they live with integrity,
stand in obedience,
and approach His throne,
not with fear,
but with faith and boldness.
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