Let pleasing God become bigger than pleasing people.
How was it that, mere days after my fortieth birthday, I could be knocked upside the head by one sentence, convicted of something I’d been doing my entire life?
But there it was. Staring back at me on my computer screen. It was random. Just a photo and statement on my Facebook feed. But the words convicted me to my very core.
I’m not sure exactly when I began copiously people-pleasing, but I remember being incredibly worried that people didn’t like me in elementary school. I fretted to the point of being physically ill if I thought someone was mad at me. Then I watched as a bully made all my fears come true. She decided she didn’t like me and that she would try to get other girls to not like me. I spent months on end contemplating how to change people’s opinions of me and get these girls to be my friends again.
I grew. I matured. I married. I had children. Still, I worried about what people thought and what they said. I was a college athlete and always had plenty of friends. I was outgoing, and I appeared confident, but inside I was walking a tightrope.