Let’s go back to March. I scan through the themes for the next quarter: “Listen,” “Imposter,” “The
Cost.”
Imposter?
The description reads “You heard Him. You said yes. And now you’re here, in a place that
isn’t your own, doing work that often feels bigger than you.”
“I can relate to that,” I think, “So often I feel out of my depth and in the wrong place. I am
certain, so very often, that someone, anyone, could fill this role better than me. Perhaps I
can write about this . . . ”
It’s that thought of possibility that causes the voice to rise up. Sharp and piercing, it turns the
word itself onto me. Imposter! it hisses. You’re not on the field right now. You were only
there for three years. What is that to the lengths of service, complexity of experience, and
highs and lows that the women you are writing to have faced? So what that you support
and care for global workers now? I guarantee they have more expertise and experience than
you. It feels as though an accusatory finger is pointed right at me, stabbing at my heart. I
wither under it.
A month later, I get a call asking for help in my specialty field of care. I have to decide if I will
stay or go, and in the moment of indecision the voice cries out again, Imposter!
I have the training and years of lived practice and learning to meet the need, but I’m new to
this specific role.
And, says the voice, so similar to my own, your formal qualifications are not high enough.
Surely you need at least a PhD to be of any use.
The “yes“ I give is buoyed by another’s need, but shaky and faint under the accusing tone.
Another week and a colleague messages unexpectedly, asking for a quick chat about some
overlapping fields of care. I have worked in both areas and thought deeply about their
connections, but I haven’t done any formal study or research into the topic. I’m unfamiliar
with the terms she uses in her message, and I scramble to understand them even as I
question why she’s asking me. The thought tumbles around my head, a repeated refrain of Why me? Why me? Why me? I have enough experience to know how much I don’t know and don’t understand. There are plenty of experts in this area that she could talk to. Why me?
When the voice rears up, loud and clear, I’ve done most of its work myself. Imposter! it
cries. What can you possibly contribute to the discussion on such complex issues? You’ve
never even heard of some of these concepts before today. Imposter!
When I get the chance, I mention the voice to a mentor and friend. “How do I know what to
say yes to?“ I want to know. “Or do I just need to focus on getting more qualifications and
experience?”
Her answer is gentle and gracious. “It’s good to evaluate opportunities and make sure they
are the right fit for us,“ she says, “but right now, you’re new to this role. So much in your life
is changing and unsettled. You are learning and growing, and in seasons like this, imposter
syndrome can get loud. But loud is not the same as true. That voice stands in direct
opposition to God’s calling on your life. He loves you and calls you his own, and he has
equipped you for the work he has prepared for you to do. His resources are limitless. Your
responsibility is to steward your time and energy and expertise as best you can for his glory
and for the good of his people. He will take care of the rest. Focus on him.”
When I feel like an imposter, I’m blind to the many ways God has equipped me for whatever
the situation might be. Be it my own God-given skills and qualifications, calling on the
body of Christ around me, leaning on his wisdom, strength, and power, or—most often—some wild combination of all three, I can move forward with confidence as a daughter of the
King. Even as I write this, that accusing voice is loud, but I am practicing listening with
expectation to see what God will do. To see how he has prepared me. Psalm 23 has long
been a favorite, and I’ve found it helpful to meditate on and pray through each day. “The
Lord is my shepherd. I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he
leads me beside quiet waters. He restores my soul.”
I shall not be in want. I can go confidently where he leads. I can look to him.
What words from Scripture help ground you when imposter syndrome creeps in?
