The trouble with finding our worth in our work

This is the first post in a three-part series about discouragement. I’m taking you on my  journey of how I’ve moved past finding my worth in my work, and what the gift of discouragement can teach us. 

The other day, I went to brunch with two of my good friends, Jan and Jennifer. It made me happy for two reasons: (1) Jan and Jennifer are funny and wise, and (2) Brunch is dessert disguising itself as an entrée—and this girl loves dessert. Over the course of coffee slurping and forks clanking, we laughed together and had good conversation, but one question they asked me stood out among the rest:

“How do you, a self-proclaimed people-pleaser and lover of numbers, not become obsessed with likes, shares, and stats?”

And my answer was… I do get obsessed.

I’ve set very high goals for myself about what numbers I’d like to see each week. Achievers, those who lean more on self and less on the God of amazing grace, often establish almost impossible-to-meet metrics. In reality, the blog is going amazingly well, but there are high numbers (almost absurdly high) that I’m not reaching. My discouragement comes when I don’t meet these goals that I have told myself I should reach.

Metrics weigh heavily on me, and while you may not have blog numbers, you have measurables of your own. Revenue projections, the weight on the scale, kids’ grades, and bank account balances can be just as heavy.  I often place my worth in my work, and that’s too much weight for work to carry. Ever-changing metrics are not the place to put the worth of an eternal soul loved by an unchangeable God. There are metrics in all of our lives that either bring us happiness or make us feel less-than. The problem surfaces when we convert these measurables from data that tells a story about our work to measurables that dictate our self-worth and value.

And when the latter happens, I go from being disappointed to being discouraged, and sometimes, when it’s really bad, that discouragement turns into despair.

I wanted to share with you what I’ve learned on this journey.

I’ve determined that there are three phases of this discouragement spectrum.

Phase 1 – Disappointment: Something didn’t meet my short-term expectations.
Phase 2 – Discouragement: Something didn’t meet my expectations AND I start to question my value, calling, or ability.
Phase 3 – Despair: Discouragement becomes a way of life when I believe that today will look exactly like yesterday, and nothing will ever get better.

Recently, I’ve been on the discouragement part of the spectrum, and it’s taught me a lot.

It’s uncovered my expectations. I expect immediate success, and when that doesn’t happen, my heart gets very sad. I believe that my life should move up and to the right quickly, and I am shocked when that isn’t always the case. I pin my expectations on God and get confused when He doesn’t deliver on what He never promised.

It’s shown me where I place my trust. I place my trust in numbers that are produced by people. When my numbers are up, I feel safe and secure. When they aren’t, I spiral downward. Instead of placing my trust in the unwavering, unchanging God, I take my trust and put it in things that are fickle and shaky.

It’s taught me how I define my worth. When my expectations are met, I feel like I’m fulfilling my calling and that the world is my oyster. When my expectations aren’t met, I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. I start to question my worth and purpose in the world when I define my value as success-by-metric.

It’s revealed my control issues. I believe that outcomes are up to me and me alone. That if I can just hustle enough, plan better, work harder, and do more, it’ll go how I plan. I believe that if I can just strive enough, I’ll reach my goal, but this isn’t always the case. And when I find this not to be true, I buckle down and try all the harder.

And it’s shed light on who (or what) I listen to. I tend to listen to a lot of lies from my enemy, lies like God doesn’t have my best interest at heart, that my work is where I should find my worth, and if my work isn’t going great, then I’m probably not great.

Who knew discouragement had so much to teach me? But discouragement can be an unusual gift if you use the hurt and the heartache to bring you closer to Jesus. My discouragement showed me all the ways I put trust in myself, and for that I am grateful because I don’t think I would’ve figured it out otherwise. If it weren’t for my brunch date, I probably wouldn’t have articulated all I had learned thus far. Coffee slurping, fork clanking, and mid-morning dessert have never been so beneficial.

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