Carlijn Balanoy | Outreach Worker
Too loud, too quiet, too sensitive, too tough, too young, too old. But the message is clear: YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH, and then everyone lives with that nagging feeling…
You know——the one. It creeps in when a joke falls flat, feedback feels strained, or your story doesn't seem to land. Suddenly, you're questioning everything—your worth, your contribution, your very place in the room. I’ve been there, too, in the room where group or one-on-one conversations made me question my worth for as long as I can remember. But it’s a universal struggle, the feeling of not measuring up.
I visited a church once and joined their adult Sunday school. The teacher asked, “Is there anyone with the same opinion as our friend [over there]?” I raised my hand, not thinking about being asked a follow-up question. He did, and I froze. The words wouldn't come out properly even when I had an answer. “Great, here we go again.” They moved on, and I was left feeling humiliated and inadequate. My thoughts spiralled: “They must think I have nothing valuable to add. I’m not cut out for public speaking. I’m not explaining well.” Then, I realized that this scenario is a pattern of constantly seeking others’ approval and those little signs of disapproval—those hints that tell me I’m not measuring up.
It's a trap. It marks the beginning of a vicious cycle of seeking validation from external sources that will always leave us wanting more (and more) until the external source sucks the life out of you and me—which results in feeling empty and immobile. We become tired of thinking, crying, and trying to be okay, so we do nothing in hopes of protecting ourselves from pain and humiliation. Only—it leads to shame and self-blame and may leave others thinking we’re aloof, uncaring, or arrogant. They might see a ‘strong, silent type’ who has it all together, an ‘uncaring, childish type’ who has no regard for others but themselves, or a mixture of everything else that isn’t the real you (or me).
In reality, we’re crumbling inside–so afraid to let anyone see cracks in our facade, but we continue to break. We become masters of disguise, hiding our vulnerability behind a mask of indifference. However, this isolation only deepens the wound, preventing us from experiencing the healing power of Jesus through connection and vulnerability.
“But I thought you were Christian? How can you feel that way? How can you think that way? Do you even consider yourself a Christian with those struggles?”
Perhaps it’s because I’m not faithful enough. It’s due to my moral failings.
Ha! I beat you to it. Already feeling guilty, I become even more ashamed. Maybe by demeaning myself first, it would hurt less when the same judgment comes from you. Or perhaps I’m just being a know-it-all fortune teller. This constant need for approval and reassurance leaves me feeling hollow as my energy gets sucked by the mental gymnastics I ascribe to. So, I walk as a hollow shell, pretending to be full while empty. I have moments like these, but you probably do, too, don’t you?
Jesus highlights the feelings of emptiness in John 5:44, “How can you believe when you receive glory from one another and do not seek the glory that comes from the only God?” True belief and lasting satisfaction come from seeking the glory (i.e., recognition and approval) that comes from God alone, and Jesus can fill that empty void.
The Weight of Glory
Reflecting on John 5:44 reminded me of a book study on C.S. Lewis’ thoughts on the ‘weight of glory.’ We all desire it—Glory that is more than fleeting approval—something profound, meaningful, and purposeful. It’s a longing for something greater than we could ever hold or bear, something greater than we are—something that finds fulfillment in the eyes of God, not in man. That hollow feeling I described and the constant need for reassurance is a sign that I’m looking for my worth in the wrong places. It’s like I’m trying to fill a God-shaped hole with the fleeting opinion of others. If Lewis were alive, he’d probably tell me the “weight of glory” I yearn for is not at the pool's shallow end (i.e., “the world”).
My friend and I concluded at least three main messages from our readings. First, we must reorient our desires from worldly validation to seeking God’s approval alone. Neither flawless performance nor the opinions of others give us the value our hearts truly desire. It's given to us by God Himself. We are His masterpiece, created in His image (Genesis 1:27), woven together inside our mothers’ wombs, fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:13–14).
Next, embracing our true identity in Christ (Genesis 1:27, Galatians 1:10) helps us understand that our desire for glory is not inherently evil. God created us to experience the joy of being loved and valued by Him. Once we understand that it's not about what we do but who we are in Him, we lose the shackles of external validation that holds us captive in the world. We begin to grasp our true worth when we ground ourselves in Christ. Then, this newfound love for Christ allows us to discover our unique identity in Him—as children of God.
Finally, we begin to live in anticipation of our true home (i.e., heaven) when we experience the fullness of glory in God’s presence. When we accept that we can present our imperfect yet authentic selves to the world, true belonging with Christ will happen (2 Corinthians 12:9), leading us to Him and fellowship with other believers. In other words, we can say that our sense of belonging stems from looking to Christ, not outward or inward (judgmental inner self) but from the unwavering love of Christ.
And yet… It's so easy to forget God’s truths as we “hustle” and “bustle” for our worthiness. The world will try pulling us back to pursue worldly affirmation.
Perfectionism
Raised in a scarcity mindset, I struggle with perfectionism. I feel as if I’m never enough or simply never likable or loveable because of my imperfections. Brene Brown describes the struggle with perfectionism in one of her books as “a self-destructive and addictive belief system that fuels this primary thought: If I look perfect and do everything perfectly, I can avoid or minimize the painful feelings of shame, judgment, and blame.”
“You are not enough…” is a lie of perfection that maliciously tears us down. We ignore it, and then the voice becomes louder and more relentless in getting our attention: “You are not enough! You are not worthy! You are destined for isolation!” Dark clouds start to gather in our heads as we search for self-worth. When our thoughts become clouded, we scream at the top of our lungs for help but forget Who to call on. The lies chip away at our sense of self until fear creeps into the heart, growing into something more sinister and resulting in our succumbing to ‘hustling’ and ‘bustling’ for worthiness. Then, dark thoughts block our view of God’s truth, so our vision blurs as we try not to drown in that mental cave* of negative feelings and thoughts. What happens next is heartbreaking—we can lose ourselves in the abyss and start believing that perfection is the cure for our inadequacy. But why do we relentlessly strive for these unattainable ideals during moments when our mortal capabilities get tested?
The Selfishness Paradox
In Beth Moore’s Living Free devotional, my friends and I reflected on the paradoxical nature of selfishness. It can manifest itself in two ways: on one end, the inflated self says, “I am so great, so I don’t need God,” while the inadequate self says: “I am so lacking that I need to prove myself constantly. I don’t think God can do anything for me.” Both seem different but stem from pride and fear, and it’s not one or the other but both. Pride urges us to seek control and not trust in God’s sufficiency, while fear whispers we’ll never be enough unless we constantly prove ourselves. These human experiences are difficult and real, reflecting our human tendency to strive for worth and security outside of God. Despite our faith, we realized that most of us get stuck in a cycle of self-reliance that leads to deeper feelings of shame when we don’t measure up to the image we think we should be—perfect. We forget (oh, we do) that love and grace are given freely as gifts from God.
Christ-like
As Christians, we are called to be Christ-like—not perfect—but to follow Jesus. Yet we struggle with the desire to pursue perfection while knowing that only Jesus truly attained it. Why? Why do we do it in every area of our lives — at school, work, and even in the comfort of our homes? Perhaps it’s because the world teaches us at a young age that our value depends on our achievements and perfectly working towards them.
Maybe it stems from a desire for control, a way to shield ourselves from the vulnerability of imperfection—just as Adam and Eve tried to clothe themselves once they understood they were naked. Or maybe it’s a misguided attempt to earn love and acceptance, believing flawlessness is the key to belonging. Perfectionism sets an impossible standard, a mirage we can never quite reach because of our mortality. It whispers lies of “not enough” and fuels the flames of self-doubt. And so, we burn. But Jesus picks up the ashes of our striving. His compassion gives us grace that offers healing and reminds us that our worth is not found in flawless performance but in His unconditional love.
Shame vs. Compassion
Shame thrives on humiliation and lies that tell YOU: “you are not enough” and “you will never be enough.” Brown describes how to combat it: “If we can share our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding, shame can't survive.” Jesus beautifully demonstrates this through His compassion by coming down on earth as the Son of Man and dying on the cross in response to our sins. The Holy Spirit sheds light on the cave* we’re trapped in and enters it, rebuking shame. We are redeemed, forgiven, and truly and deeply loved by our Creator. When we confront shame, we fall to our knees and pray, finding comfort and strength in our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. Who can understand better than Jesus? He endured and conquered shame–beaten, ridiculed, and rejected–as he became the perfect sacrifice for our sins. Who can understand shame better than Jesus? We surrender our shame through prayer because He showed us boundless compassion and grace when He died on the cross. We find hope as He releases us from hatred, condemnation, and despair, as we turn, set our sights on Him, and abide in Him.
More Than Enough in Christ
The search for being “enough” and connecting to our sense of value is a lifelong journey. It takes courage to be authentic and be Christ’s follower in an unforgiving and cruel world that rejects Jesus. When we embrace our vulnerabilities, we understand that Christ is the One who can quench our thirst for glory and purpose. Journeying with Christ is a life filled with love and connection that allows us to accept our imperfections, genuinely experience life's beauty and fulfill our part in God’s stories. I pray that we may live meaningful lives filled with grace similar to what God has shown. Just as Jesus gave a new command in John 13:34-35, we are led and shown how to love one another as He loved us. By doing so, everyone will know we are His disciples. For in following Jesus and valuing others, we truly reflect the heart of God.
What determines our value? Or rather, Who determines it? We are called to become image-bearers, embodying the fruits of the spirit and leading others to Love—Christ—the Giver of true value. We become new creations in Him and become more confident in knowing that our lives have a purpose because He died for us—and we live for Him.
At that moment, when Jesus carried the weight of the world’s sins on His shoulders, He declared that we are worth saving, worth loving, and worth dying for because He forgives and teaches us to forgive (Matthew 6:14-15). No other act of love could be so bold in proclaiming our value, like how our Saviour gave His life up on the cross for us. Despite our limited understanding of our worth and the weight of glory, we were made to belong. God’s truth reminds us that what we bear in His image is good—seeking to love (Him) and be loved (by Him).
