So Long Insecurity

by Beth Moore

  But we can stop playing the game even if no one else in our environment signs the no-compete. If we don’t think we can, we’re not giving ourselves enough credit. When we work from an activated mentality of God-given security, we are fully capable of thinking another woman is beautiful without concluding we are ugly. We can esteem another woman’s achievements without feeling like an idiot. We can admire another woman’s terrific shape without feeling like a slob. Where on earth did we come up with the idea that we have to subtract value from ourselves in order to give credit to someone else? You see, it’s our insecurity that makes us so poor at math. It constantly leads us to draw the wrong conclusions.

  If security says 2 + 2 = 4, insecurity says 2 + 2 = 9. In other words, she is this + I am that = I’m a loser. Or just as often we might come to the opposite conclusion: she is this + I am that = she’s a loser. The insecurity equation can play out any number of ways. Consider a few others:

  I tried to talk to her + she seemed really distracted = she hates me

  She’s really gorgeous + she gets a lot of attention that I don’t = she must be really conceited

  She’s got this + she’s got that = I’ve got nothing

  She doesn’t have this problem + I’ve got that problem = she doesn’t have a care in the world

  Look what she’s got on + look what I’ve got on = I have the fashion taste of a tsetse fly

  Do any of those equations sound vaguely familiar? That’s exactly why we need to start catching ourselves in the act of comparison and tell ourselves to stop. We need to roll our eyes at ourselves and think, There you go with the bad math again. Even when we’re convinced our facts are straight, if insecurity entered a single digit into the equation, we can’t trust our summation. 2 + 2 = 5 is still wrong even if it’s closer than 2 + 2 = 9. Let’s learn to call ourselves out before we ever make it from plus to equals.

  You may not know what to think about the art of talking to yourself. Actually though, we do it all the time. I’m only recommending that we become deliberate about what we say. I’ve suggested several statements so far to whisper in our own heads when we need to summon forth some healthy activity from that secure person God has placed within us. Here are a few of the most vital ones:

  “I am clothed with strength and dignity.”

  “My security is mine to keep. God gave it to me. No one gets to take it from me.”

  You might be relieved to know that the psalmists addressed their own souls on any number of occasions. One asked himself, “Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me?” (Psalm 42:11). Another called himself to a summit of focus: “Praise the LORD, O my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name. Praise the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits” (Psalm 103:1-2). The psalmist likely didn’t command his soul to praise because that’s what he felt like doing anyway. I believe he caught himself in the act of destructive or distracted thinking and intended to change the course of his thoughts. That’s exactly what you and I must do if we want to start living like the secure people God created us to be. We must catch ourselves in the act of unhealthy thinking and call our souls to switch tracks.

  Needless to say, the power of talking to our own souls pales in comparison to pouring out our hearts to God through prayer and requesting His all-glorious intervention. That’s why we equipped ourselves with an intense prayer journey in chapter 9. We can turn back to it at any time. By the last page of this book, we’ll also have a brief prayer we can say every single morning of our lives, if necessary, to stand our secure ground. This self-talk I’m suggesting is designed to replace the destructive statements and poor equations we’re already replaying.

  In Galatians 5:26, we can find some great words straight off the sacred page to whisper to ourselves when we’re tempted to enter the competition our culture has cast between women:

  We will not compare ourselves with each other as if one of us were better and another worse. We have far more interesting things to do with our lives. Each of us is an original.

  The Message

  So that’s the first one: we’re going to start catching ourselves in the act of comparison and call ourselves out. Now let’s look at a second way we can develop a case of infectious security with our own gender.

  Start Personalizing Other Women

  When we feel threatened by another woman, we need to personalize her. This point never would have occurred to me without happening on the wording recently from Eugene Peterson’s translation of Galatians 5. It spoke so clearly to our present subject matter, I almost pole-vaulted ahead of myself to write this chapter. In a segment of Scripture dedicated to drawing a stark contrast between natural living (us on our own) and supernatural living (us empowered by the Spirit of Christ), we’re implored to drop . . .

  . . . the vicious habit of depersonalizing everyone into a rival.

  Galatians 5:21

  Read those words a couple of times and start analyzing the concept in your own experiences. That’s what I did. I began to test the indictment on every rising temptation I had to feel either threatened by or competitive toward another woman, even if for only a moment. In no time at all, I knew Peterson’s translation was right on target. In order to successfully view someone as a rival, we have to depersonalize her to a measurable extent. And make no mistake, it’s a vicious habit. In order to nurse a rival mentality, we almost always view our competitor through a one-dimensional lens. She is not a person. She is a contender. If she got the guy we wanted, we don’t see her in terms of a multilayered life of ups and downs, self-doubts, and second guesses. We depersonalize her into a manipulator or a relationship wrecker. It’s easier to despise her that way. If she got the promotion we sought, she’s the embodiment of selfish ambition in tan hose and black pumps. If she’s more attractive than we feel, she’s only skin deep. We can’t fathom that she’s ever been betrayed or brokenhearted. The list goes on and on, and the concept remains intact.

  When we go against the grain of our human nature and determine to personalize someone instead, rivalry loses its bedding ground. My oldest daughter attended junior high and high school with a total phenomenon. Her friend Brittney was not only beautiful. She was smart. That wasn’t all. She was so incredibly gifted at sports that her name made the Houston Chronicle numerous times. She was just the kind of girl so threatening that none of her female classmates and team members should have liked her. The problem was, they couldn’t help it. Brittney was also one of those rarities as endearing as she was talented and as gracious as she was attractive. Amanda was crazy about her. Still is, as a matter of fact, and the feeling has always been mutual. If my much shier girl was ever jealous of the friend that couldn’t shake a spotlight, I never caught a glimpse of it. Amanda simply never could depersonalize Brittney enough to feel rivaled by her.

  Now let’s raise the stakes and go from a sweet example to one where the odds are beyond every fair player. A dear friend of mine lost her young husband years ago to an ugly affair that turned into a wedding. My friend didn’t have the luxury of running from every reminder because their unsuccessful marriage had resulted in two beloved children. This meant that she came face-to-face with the happy couple at least every other weekend and at every school and sporting event. By anyone’s standard, she had every right to hate the woman who had taken up with her man, and granted, she did allow herself to bask in disdain for a couple of long and miserable years. Then one day while we chatted on the phone, she mentioned something in passing about some advice her ex-husband’s wife had given her. I was flabbergasted.

  “Hold up,” I said. “Are you telling me you two are talking? Like, casually?”

  “Oh, Beth,” she said, “she’s got so many problems. I feel for her. I wouldn’t be in her position for anything on earth. I don’t feel threatened by her anymore.”

  I wanted to tell her she was nuts, but I couldn’t deny her pervading sense of peace and liberty. What had shifted my friend’s mind-set? She could no longe
r get away with depersonalizing the other woman. In the process of seeing her competitor trying to navigate life’s inevitable challenges, my friend became less and less fixated on her as a rival. I’m not suggesting we all buddy up to our betrayers or make friends with a spouse’s mistress. I do, however, think that if we view potential contenders as equally broken people with real problems, pain, hopes, dreams, and disappointments, we will have taken the first step toward unraveling a rivalry. No one lives on this planet long without scars. The woman who hurt you—whoever she may be and whatever the circumstance—has also been hurt. Either we can keep stabbing each other back or we can lay down the sword.

  In Jesus’ name.

  Incidentally, I’ve also found it difficult to keep despising someone I consistently pray for. I won’t kid you. The process is really hard at first, especially if betrayal was involved. But consistent and humble prayer eventually has a way of changing our feelings and paving a way through the dirt so that the favor of God can flow when the dam breaks. And it will. When I humble myself enough to pray for someone I feel threatened by—and especially when I muster up the courage to ask God to profoundly bless that person—I end up blessed every single time, and the rivalry gets diffused. I keep 1 Peter 3:9 in the recesses of my mind so I can recall how God can work in a harsh conflict:

  Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing. (emphasis mine)

  It’s how we take the high road when somebody is begging us to mud wrestle with her in the potholes of the low road. The very day I stop praying, the toxins return to my emotions.

  How about a third way we can develop a case of infectious security with our own gender?

  Don’t Trip Another Woman’s Insecurity Switch

  Listen, sister, in a culture this torturous on our gender, we need to be friends, not competitors. We need one another’s help, and often when we give it, the benefits that come back to us in terms of our own security are definitely worth the effort. Glance at a handful of examples that illustrate this concept:

  If you have the money for a great wardrobe, or even if you have especially great taste on a budget, you don’t always have to outdress the rest of your friends. Only avid competitors always feel the need to win.

  If you have a fabulous figure, you don’t always have to wear a skimpy bathing suit when you and your husband are going boating or to the beach with several other couples. By all means, wear it for him in a less public place, but take caution before you parade it in front of all the other husbands and their wives. You could end up ruining another woman’s time or causing a serious altercation between her and her man.

  The same suggestion goes for provocative dress when a group of couples is going out to a movie, a restaurant, or an event. Sometimes women dress sensually around other men because they want their husbands to wake up and notice them. But they have no idea how they could be making the other wives feel. Let’s exercise a little sensitivity and deal with our insecurities and cravings for attention in ways that don’t minimize the women around us. You’ll especially want to avoid sensuous dress if you and your mate are being taken out by an employer and his or her spouse, especially if they are older. I assure you it will not serve you well. You will never gain the genuine favor of anyone who perceives you as a threat.

  If you know there are certain areas that trip a sister’s switch, you can avoid intentionally steering discussions toward those subjects. Years ago when I was a young bride, Keith’s Grandma Pereira told me a story I’ve never forgotten. She and Keith’s grandfather lived on a farm with a pond where she had practically domesticated a gaggle of geese. They followed her around like a litter of puppies. On one Saturday afternoon while she and I were on a walk, I spotted a goose hopping behind us that had only one leg.

  “What happened to that poor little guy?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said, “but he’s my favorite—I guess because I have to keep an eye on him all the time. The others peck at him constantly because they know he’s weak.”

  It really disturbed me. In fact, I nearly cried. I’ve seen that same syndrome a thousand times with gaggles of humans. We all have just enough meanness in us to occasionally enjoy a peck or two at somebody we know to be weak. Maybe we’re usually compassionate, but every now and then we’re in a mischievous or terse mood or maybe just tired of tiptoeing around a person who needs to deal with her issues. No matter what’s driving us to pick at somebody, let’s keep in mind that only insecure people enjoying tripping another person’s insecurity switch. Every time we’re tempted to do it, we’re probably having an attack of our own and trying to build up our wounded selves at somebody else’s expense. I’ve noticed along the way that mean girls grow up to be mean women if they never catch an ugly glimpse of themselves. Let’s take a good, long look in the mirror and make absolutely sure we don’t see a mean woman staring back at us.

  Mind you, some women are so insecure, there’s not enough you can do, wear, or say to shield them, and to be honest, they’re the ones who need to get the big grip. Try this for the balance when you can’t decide if your sensitivity is helping them or hurting them: the goal in our female relationships should be to encourage one another’s security. Not enable one another’s insecurity. If we simply help each other stay chronically insecure, we’ve accomplished nothing. I want my closest female associates to offer me a relatively safe place to grow in my security, not wear themselves out over my lack of it.

  If we want to develop a case of infectious security with our own gender, here’s what we’ve learned so far: we should start catching ourselves making comparisons and tell ourselves to stop; we should start personalizing the women who feel threatening to us; and when possible, we should avoid tripping another woman’s insecurity switch.

  We Must Be Examples of Secure Women

  For most of us, to see is to believe. The thought never crossed my mind that I could come to love Jesus more than any other living soul on the planet until I saw someone cloaked in flesh and blood actually do it. Her name was Marge Caldwell. Until then, the whole idea was nothing more than a lofty theory we had sung about at church but hung on the coatrack when we headed to the car. The thought also never crossed my mind that I could love the study of Scripture and get the thrill of my life out of hearing God speak through the pages of the Bible until I saw someone else do it. His name was Buddy Walters. Both of these living, breathing examples proved to me that something most Christians believed was theoretical was indeed really possible. And for normal people just like me. I wanted what they had, and bless God, I found it.

  Most women will likewise never believe that a secure woman is a real, live possibility until they see one face-to-face. Problem-to-problem. Threat-to-threat. Chase-to-grace. If you’ll become the first example in your sphere of influence, you won’t be the last. You may pop up all by your lonely self in the beginning, but soon another will pop up close by, then another, because it’s as contagious as its counterpart. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if a few of those girls who popped up around you were twelve or thirteen years old, with their whole adolescence and adulthood ahead of them? Anybody can be like everybody else. Only those who are exceptional choose to believe the possible over the probable. You, beloved, were created to be exceptional.

  Like my friend Stacy. She’s a thirtysomething I’ve known since her college days, a devoted follower of Christ and a fabulous makeup artist by trade. A few weeks ago she was at my office to help me get ready for a photo shoot for this book’s cover. When I told her what the book was about, she nearly flipped.

  “Beth, I’ve been obsessed with this subject lately,” she said. “I’m so concerned about it. I’m concerned for myself. I’m concerned for my six-year-old daughter and the one on the way. You can imagine in my line of work that I see insecurity everywhere. It’s epidemic.”

  Then Stacy told me a story right in the middle of applying my eye makeup. Throu
gh the years she’s done her magic on a very attractive socialite for various events in a large, metropolitan city. Because my friend is so adorable and lovable (my description, not hers), she soon won the unsolicited favor of the socialite and found herself on the guest list of a prestigious annual event where fashion is queen. Because she’s convinced God orchestrated the relationship, she attends every year. But every year she also stresses. What’s a social stepsister supposed to wear to a ball filled with rich Cinderellas? What should she do with her hair? We’ll pick up the story in her own words.

  I’ve done makeup on women in those kinds of circles so many times, and I know the kind of insecurity they battle. No matter who they are, how they look, or what they have, their world is filled with so much pressure to be perfect that it’s unbearable. And I, a woman who has walked with Christ all these years and ought to know better, found myself feeling all the same things every time I got ready for that event. I was acting no different than a woman wholly without the indwelling Christ . . . until this year. All of a sudden I stopped myself in the middle of a panicked frenzy and said to myself . . .

  Before she finished her sentence, she put down the makeup brush and patted her heart passionately, confidently, and almost tearfully. She hit each word slowly and deliberately like a hammer on a nail until it pierced my granite head and penetrated all the way to my heart.

  But . . . I . . . have . . . this . . . Treasure!

  Chills instantly covered my arms. I knew exactly what she was talking about because I was familiar with the passage. It’s from 2 Corinthians 4: