Thoughts on Choosing God’s Voice Over Fear and Approval

I am a member of Valorie Burton’s Successful Women’s Academy. Each month, she takes us on a journey of self-coaching and coaching in community that helps us align our lives with what matters most. In my case, what matters most is God’s vision for my life.

Earlier this year, I had a choice to make. Would I continue trying to do what was expected of me by others, or would I stand firm and continue doing what God and I have been working on since the day I entered seminary? Would I trust the voices around me—or the voice within me, the one closest to eternity?

The choice should have been easy, but it wasn’t. Not until I figured out why I kept clinging to what others thought.

What I keep forgetting is that people-pleasing had its benefits. It meant that people liked me more—or so I thought.

Doing what those “wiser” than me did meant that I wouldn’t make mistakes—or so I thought.

Listening to those who were “successful” meant that I would be successful too—or so I thought.

So, when I read Valorie’s words, “Sometimes, I need to stay the course. Sometimes, I need to forge a new path,” I had to stop and ask myself if I was ready to forge a new path beyond my people-pleasing graduate education days that required me to please professors and institutions.

The part of me that needed a yes to a new path spoke quietly. This time, without the excuse of needing to earn a degree or a high grade on a paper, I set out to honor her wisdom. It was not pretty.

Anyone who has done something that has never been done—or something familiar in a new way—knows that between the internal critics and the external “concerned citizens,” you can lose yourself. That still, small voice within—the one whispering what God already knows—can get pushed aside by the bully called fear.

Elizabeth Gilbert talks about fear in her book Big Magic. It was her advice that gave me the push I needed in the right direction. In the book, she talks about having a healthy relationship with fear. She explains that healthy fear keeps us alive, safe, and aware—which is a good thing.

However, fear cannot be in control of our lives, and it definitely cannot be in control of our creativity, which is at the center of my life’s work. The goal of a healthy relationship with fear is to accept it as a companion alongside creativity—not as the boss of creativity. It’s not about beating fear over the head; it’s about choosing harmony. She writes, “It seems to me that the less I fight my fear, the less it fights back. If I can relax, fear relaxes, too.”

So that’s what I set out to do—stop the fight and let fear be fear, but not let fear be the driver of my life or creativity.

The moment I started doing that, things got interesting. The cautious people kept being caring and offering advice about how to stay alive and safe. However, my response to them was different. I thanked them lovingly and kept going. Guess what? I’m still alive. The fear they shared was based on that one time in their life, not a prayerfully discerning response to my current reality. But I didn’t need to point that out. I just let them be them—and kept being me.

The critical people kept doing what they were best at, but this time, instead of letting their opinions get the best of me, I didn’t respond. I didn’t even try to correct them. I simply listened, nodded, and kept going in my right direction.

Looking back, every time I’ve managed to succeed, it was because I let fear be fear—and kept doing what I was called to do anyway. When I was on stage performing my one-woman show in Scotland, New York City, Atlanta, and Washington, D.C., I was always afraid. But I got on that stage every single time and did what God told me to do.

When I preach my dramatic sermons—or any sermon, for that matter—I am definitely afraid. But I keep doing what God has called me to do. I also don’t look for people to shout “Amen” or shake my hand afterward. If it happens, good; if not, good.

Every single time I’ve let fear be fear and me be me, I’ve managed to do something I love. Every time I do something I love, I feel closer to God—and inevitably, closer to humanity.

Remembering those times helps me the next time. But more importantly, not wasting my time trying to stop being afraid is what matters most.

What about you? How is your relationship with fear?