Are You Good Enough?

.Seattle, 1958. Sunset Junior High School. Ninth grade gym class. Fresh from the West Indies and with a heavy British accent, I dragged myself to the locker room one more time for the usual embarrassment. I was 5’ 4’’ tall and weighed almost 170 pounds. My thick glasses helped me see but nothing had helped me understand American sports. My sister was sent away to school when I was seven, leaving me the only child of busy missionary parents who were always at their desks or their work. I played the piano, ate (some afternoons I consumed an entire can of Eagle Brand sweetened condensed milk), and read. It was not only American sports that confused me. It was all sports. I had witnessed perhaps one basketball game, no football games, and not even a cricket match, which would have been more likely in Trinidad.

We suited up and filed into the gym. Our ruddy-faced PE teacher hauled in a large bag of balls and shouted, “Basketball this week, fellas!” All but one of the boys were excited and were soon shouting, joking, and shooting baskets. I, the foreigner, stood against the wall trying to make myself invisible. We lined up. Two of my classmates were named captains and chose their teams—I was always last—and the game began. Of course, everyone had his turn and my inevitable moment arrived. I had watched carefully to try to learn what to do. Suddenly someone threw me the ball. By this time I had figured out that I should get the ball and shoot a basket, and so I shoved the ball under my arm and ran to the end of the court. The coach’s whistle shrilled and everybody stared. “Schlitz!” (He never got my name right.) “Don’t you know you are supposed to dribble the ball?!“ Dribble? My face crimsoned to uproarious, hooting laughter.

A Childhood Experience Grows into Dysfunction.

By my senior year things were much better. I was losing the accent and understood most idioms of American life. But the feeling of not being good enough was still lodged in my mind. Years later and in my forties with a beautiful wife and three great kids, the feeling roared back. It had nothing to do with sports now. It was my Christian faith that was the bugaboo. By this time I had a graduate degree from seminary and had been both a pastor and associate pastor in several congregations. I was supposed to have the answers, to understand theology, how prayer works, and just what to say to the parents of the dying child in the emergency room. But I didn’t have all of the answers. Some days I wondered if I had any answers.

My flawed theology led me to label some vocations as more valuable than others. To my way of thinking, missionaries were number one and pastors were number two. Others were three or lower. I’m sure my parents made mistakes but they never shared them with me. Ours was a proud denomination certain of ourselves and our right doctrine. Everything was right or wrong. No minister or pastor that I knew ever slipped up. In fact, Every Christian was supposed to be perfect and live above sin, period. We were a well-intentioned but graceless group who defined ourselves by the things we didn’t do. We didn’t drink. We didn’t smoke. We didn’t dance. We didn’t play cards. We didn’t swear. We didn’t go to movies. You get the picture. When Christians we knew did these things, they were labeled a failure.

And now I didn’t have the answers. I struggled at times with temptation. For the first time I recognized my deep-seated anger against my parents for sending me away to school and against the denomination that sent them to the mission field. I was trapped. I was angry and Christians don’t get angry. I doubted my beliefs and Christians should have strong faith. I could no longer do the job and had never been taught it was okay to fail. I felt that I was not good enough. Especially was I not good enough to be a pastor, and way below my falsely created pedestal of missionary perfection. And so I left pastoral ministry.

When we’re not good enough.

So what happens in this environment? People pretend. We hide. We hide our true selves and display what everyone thinks we should be. People do this everywhere. We pretend we’re someone else (posting flattering photos on Facebook or dating web sites). We adopt an attitude of superiority to hide our feeling of inferiority (swaggering around in front of our friends to impress them). This is usually an unconscious response to not feeling good enough. In today’s mean-spirited society, we are particularly susceptible to bullying. We’ve all read the tragic accounts of teenagers who have killed themselves because of being labeled as losers. Our culture praises beautiful bodies and the lifestyle of the rich and famous. Who can compete? The Business world demands being super productive and twelve-hour days. It’s no wonder so many of us feel inadequate, marginalized, and useless. “I’m not good enough” becomes a lifelong personality disorder that torpedoes relationships and fractures marriages and families. It leads to depression—and even suicide.

What now?

  1. Examine your negative self-image. Where does it come from? Peers and parents are two powerful forces and either or both can make you feel wonderful or horrible. Who is telling you that you are not good enough? Is it you or someone else? If it’s you, why do you feel inadequate? What event, experience, or relationship is fueling your pain?
  2. Ask a trusted friend about your perceptions. How do they understand the triggers that launch your self-doubt? What good things do they see in you? What do they believe about you?
  3. Are you transparent? Are you real or do you put up a front that you imagine others want you to be? No one can live a lie. It’s okay to be who you really are. Jettison friends who require you to pretend.
  4. Failure is temporary. Life is a learning process and you are very resilient. Thousands of people we think of as big successes failed countless times in the pursuit of their vision. It’s okay to fail. How you respond to failure is a key to succeeding in life.
  5. Failure is not a sin. Everyone fails at some point. It’s the nature of life. Only God is perfect but He is also gracious, understanding, and loving.
  6. Comparison is corrosive. Comparing yourself to others breeds dissatisfaction, jealousy, envy, and depression. In truth, we often don’t even know the people to whom we compare ourselves!
  7. God has made you a marvelous and creative person. You are created in His image. He loves you as you are. He gave up Heaven to walk this earth in human form to teach us that He understands. He died for your sins and, if you accept him, He will live in you now and give you Heaven forever.

Epilogue

By God’s grace, my story did not end with my departure from pastoral ministry. In the months and years that followed, God revealed Himself to me with remarkable and uplifting encouragement. He immediately gave me three scriptures verses which extinguished my burning sense of ministerial failure.

  • The first was from Mark 1:11, “You are my dearly loved Son, and you bring me great joy.” I foolishly reacted with some statement about this verse being for Jesus. God said, “It is my Word and today it is about you.”
  • The second was from Haggai 2:23: “I will make you like a signet ring on my finger, says theLord, for I have chosen you.”
  • The third was from Luke 22:31-32 “Satan has asked to sift each of you like wheat.But I have pleaded in prayer for you, [David] that your faith should not fail. So when you have repented and turned to me again, strengthen your brothers.”

I have learned that God was neither surprised nor disappointed by my struggle. It made no difference to Him that I felt that I had failed. He didn’t mind that I was angry at the church or wanted nothing to do with further ministry. Nothing I was feeling disqualified me in His eyes from His original call upon my life to be his boy.

The grace that I was never taught but experienced from gracious people like my adopted parents, L. T.  and Helen Flynt, my parents-in-law, John and Florence Neal and, of course, my wife and children, has become a permanent and healing part of my life. They from the beginning have loved me as I am and their love is unconditional and forever. Thank you!

God graciously used me in other ministry positions, including two wonderful pastorates and now in retirement. He continues to heal me from my need to be perfect and reminds me not to compare myself with others.

I pray that you, too, will find His grace and peace.

Depression Self-Image

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David Shultz enjoys mountain views in Arizona where he lives with his wife and two dogs, Molly and Maggie.

24 Comments Leave a comment

  1. I really enjoyed reading your blog, and I will continue to do so. Can’t wait for your next one. I admire your insights. Connie

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  2. Beautiful Pastor Dave! So thankful I began my true Christian walk under your wing (Karon’s too). Have always loved you guys bunches! Thank you for again speaking to me.

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  3. My date is 1979-ish…at a youth convention in Princeton, West Virginia. The first time I heard you speak. My mind was blown at the way you delivered the Good News. Your smile radiated His love. And guess what? You’re still doing both of those things! Thank you for your honesty. God continues to use your words to share His love, grace, and truth.

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  4. Dave – the seven “What Now” items speak to God’s continuing redemption. So thankful to have been under your pastorate when I was fresh out of college in into my early years of family raising. The Shackles I have put on over the year as a result of failures as a husband and father and employee and follower of Christ have seemingly been unshackled with these encouraging words. Thank you for your continued ministry.

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  5. Wow. Thanks for being so transparent. I remember many years ago (15+) when I was commuting back and forth to Indy, I used to listen to your sermons on tape, and one that I played many times over was one of your final ones at North. Your topic the day you announced your departure was one that continuously helped give me comfort and hope as I searched for answers. Thanks for sharing.

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  6. Dave, So grateful to you for saying the things I have felt for most of my life…. Thank the Lord, I too have been liberated from “Perfectionism” by the prefect heavenly Father… I want to say so much… but I’ll leave it at…. “THANKS”

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  7. Truly enjoy reading your blogs. I’m a few days late in getting caught up, but this one hit a spot once again in my heart. “Who is telling you that your not good enough” really hit home. I know I’m a child of God. I’m thankful for people like you who are open and honest. I love the song by Mandisa “What if we were real” I have been striving really hard this past year to be real and some of the places I find how to do this is through sermons, Bible study, music, enjoying nature, true friends, and last but not least, my family. Watching others and comparing is a true “danger” zone….I’m still learning how to just be ME! 🙂 Love God, my neighbors and myself. Praise his glorious name! So happy for you and Karon that you get to enjoy your Arizona home! Keep shooting those rattle snakes. They aint’ good for nothin.

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  8. David, I sat here reading your blog for the first time. I was reminded of a time in Anderson when I was so despondent and depressed that Dr. Stenson had me admitted to St. John’s Hospital. You came to visit me and just sat in the chair and let me ramble. Your associate pastor came and told me how wrong I was and how it affected Sallie and my kids. When you left ,I felt encouraged. When Wes left, I knew I was a terrible, irresponsible , doing nothing right kind of guy. I was there 2 more weeks. I asked the nurses to block him from visiting me. In all the years since, when I have visited people in the good or bad times as a hospital chaplain, I’ve tied to remember the experience I had with you all those years ago. Thank you so much . Btw I have since reconciled with God ‘re: my experience with your associate pastor.

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  9. Thanks for sharing with so much honesty and insight. I’ve found much encouragement reading your blog.

    I can’t seem to figure out how to sign up for your blog. Will commenting put me in your list?

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