“My mom wanted to tell you that she wants to become a Christian. She’s been thinking about it for a long time, but after getting to know you, she decided that it’s the right thing for her.”
“I think you bring a lot of strength to this house!”
“Christians are good people.”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“You’re the good kind of Mennonites.”
“God wants you here.”
All of these quotes are things that have been said either to me or to both me and Rachel during our time working at the Maria Skobtsova House (MSH) in Calais. Every time someone says something like this to me, I’m both flattered and intimidated.
I’m flattered because my abilities to pretend that I know what I’m doing are obviously working.
I’m intimidated because I know that deep down none of those statements are true.
I know what you’re going to say: “Not so fast! You are a good person, and you really do impact people’s lives for good!” I’ve heard this before, many times in fact. Most often, it’s my wife who says this when I express to her my deepest insecurities and the fact that I feel like I’m faking everything. Even coming from the person I love and trust most, the words ring hollow to me.
It’s not that I don’t believe I’ve done good work in Calais. I know I have. I know I’ve made a difference in the lives of the women that we serve here in MSH.
But I can’t shake the feeling that one day I’ll be found out. One day I’ll be seen for what I really am: a complete failure, who just so happens to be good at pretending (I was an actor in high school, after all). One day my wife and kids will leave me, I’ll be kicked out of my job, and I’ll be on the streets, where I belong.
I understand that all of this might sound overly dramatic. And I know that it is. It’s just a feeling I get deep down that I will never be able to do enough. If people knew the truth about me, they wouldn’t want me around. The truth is I’m lazy, I have a sarcastic sense of humor that can really hurt people when I want it to, and I talk way too much. Sometimes I struggle with understanding why God allows the things to happen that we see in Calais. When I see how other Christians react, I wonder why I’m still a believer.
But I keep doing what I do here, trying hard to understand what the next right thing is. I feel like I fail more often than I get it right. Eventually people will see who I really am and everyone will leave me. I’m a faker, and until now I’ve been pretty good at it, but it can’t last forever.
After all, Scripture tells us that people are created in the image of God. If we truly believe this, then why don’t we focus on finding that image and seeking out the beauty in where God is already working in each person’s life. Is it really that much better to tell people that they are evil from birth to the grave, assuming that each person’s only intent is to do evil all the time?
I’m not just saying this to try to make myself feel better. I wasted so much time feeling worthless that I just can’t get it out of my head now. I’m doing much better these days, but the trauma of my childhood will always be with me. When you’ve spent so much time being told how much of a worthless, evil, inherently bad person, eventually you internalise it.
Perhaps the darkness inside each of us doesn’t have to be so dark at all. Perhaps there’s light in everyone, if we know where to look. Sure, we all do bad things. Sure, we break each other’s hearts. Sure we hurt and murder and kill each other. But we aren’t beyond hope. God is present in each of us, and we all reflect God’s light to a larger or lesser degree.
But I don’t think I’ll ever shake the feeling of being a fraud, a failure, an imposter. I’m just waiting for the day to come when everyone will realise it.
But now, with all these kind words that have been shared with me, I feel like the burden has become mine. I have to continue living my life in a way that I can feel worthy of the things people say about me. If it’s because of me that people have chosen to become Christians, then it’s up to me to live my life worthy of the image of God that people see in me. What they think about me isn’t true, but I feel that it’s necessary to continue to carry on the facade of being the loving, caring person that people think I am.
Underneath it all I’m a hermit who just wants to crawl into my hole and give up.
But I can’t give up. The things people believe about me may not be true, but my intense belief that everyone is worthy of love is very real. And so I live with this contradiction within myself. I have to pretend to be one person, while on the inside I know that I’m not really that man.
Perhaps you feel the same. I’ve heard it referred to as “Imposter Syndrome.” But for me it’s not a syndrome; it’s the truth.
But it’s something I’m working on. I’m trying to live my life in such a way that I don’t feel like an imposter forever. I want to live life so that at the end of the road I can look back on what I’ve done and say, “You really did make a difference.”
I don’t think the feelings will ever go away, all I know is that I can live a life dedicated to the image of God that I want to see in each person with whom I interact. Then, even if I feel like a fraud, I can have a true and lasting impact on those people that God loves.
Which is everyone.
And though I know that many of my readers—and many who grew up in the same strict environment as I did—feel the same way, I believe you, too, can overcome these feelings of self-doubt and inherent worthlessness. Is this something you’re working on as well? Have you thought about it? How do you reconcile these contradictory ideas while still trying to love your neighbor?
Coffee & Theology 