Beth Moore has written many books, but she says So Long, Insecurity is the closest she'll ever come to writing an autobiography.
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Moore's life, like those of so many women, has been challenged by insecurities. But no more! She believes there is a cure for insecurity, which she says has become an epidemic. Women do not have to allow insecurities, or "lies," to cause them to miss life. Moore presents the truth as a way to help women experience authentic security.
The Buzz features an excerpt from So Long, Insecurity: You've Been a Bad Friend to Us. (Click here to purchase this book.)
Insecure Enough to Matter
We all have insecurities. They piggyback on the vulnerability inherent in our humanity. The question is whether or not our insecurities are substantial enough to hurt, limit, or even distract us from profound effectiveness or fulfillment of purpose. Are they cheating us of the powerful and abundant life Jesus flagrantly promised? Do they nip at our heels all the way from the driveway to the workplace? Scripture claims that believers in Christ are enormously gifted people. Are our insecurities snuffing the Spirit until our gifts, for all practical purposes, are largely unproductive or, at the very least, tentative? Maybe you can answer each of those questions with an honest no. The only reason I'm bothering to write a book instead of leading a small group, however, is because I believe if you can, you'd be in the vast minority.
I'm convinced that many women--if not most--have enough insecurity to hinder them. I recently surveyed more than 900 women and found that 78 percent admitted to having feelings of insecurity at or above a level that bothers them. That qualifies as a major cry for healing. Of the total number of respondents, 43 percent described their issues with insecurity as anywhere from "pretty big" to "huge." If those 900 women are remotely reflective of the rest of us, we need to own up to a serious problem and seek serious solutions from a Creator who wonderfully crafted us.
Before we inch any further, let's start shaping some working definitions of insecurity so we can figure out if ours warrants attention and healing. Later in our journey, we'll also discuss various experiences that can feed those insecurities. Rest assured until then that there are often plausible explanations for why one person's insecurities exceed another's.
I am well enough acquainted with the issue to know that as we start defining and describing this malady, those of you with fairly chronic cases are going to begin to feel insecure even about your insecurities. (It takes one to know one.) Try not to go there. There was a time when I would have been tempted to put away a book that magnified my vulnerabilities, but these days I'd rather press through the discomfort of staring at my weaknesses than live in denial and bondage. The enemy of your soul has a tremendous amount to gain if you don't deal with your insecurities. Don't let him have that kind of victory. Let's just stay honest and courageous, and trust that help is on the way.
OK, let's start by looking at one specialist's definition of insecurity:
Insecurity refers to a profound sense of self-doubt--a deep feeling of uncertainty about our basic worth and our place in the world. Insecurity is associated with chronic self-consciousness, along with a chronic lack of confidence in ourselves and anxiety about our relationships. The insecure man or woman lives in constant fear of rejection and a deep uncertainty about whether his or her own feelings and desires are legitimate. (Joseph Nowinski, The Tender Heart: Conquering Your Insecurity)
I hope that definition conveys to some extent the idea that insecurity is not the same thing as sensitivity. The latter can be a charming trait that is often evidenced in thriving individuals and relationships. Not everyone who is sensitive is insecure, but make no mistake: everyone who is insecure is usually sensitive to a fault. Confusingly, these are often people who can dish out all sorts of things they can't take. As you glance over this first definition, keep in mind that you don't have to possess every description or element to qualify as insecure and in need of healing.
For instance, I don't have anxiety about all my relationships, but I have enough to bother me in a few. Likewise, I don't live with a constant fear of rejection in all my associations, but a handful of experiences have left some sizable wounds. I also don't grapple with feeling like I have no place in this world. In fact, like so many other women who are in over their heads in responsibility--moms, teachers, caretakers, doctors and corporate executives, to name a few--some of my insecurity stems from being uncomfortable with the place that I do have. Whether we feel insignificant or overrated or drunk on some loony cocktail of the two, insecurity lands with both feet on two words: self-doubt. I step in it. Then I swim in it. Then I nearly drown in it.
This morning I went on a walk to listen to praise music on my iPod and hold the themes of this book out before God in hopes that He would speak to my heart. He spoke, all right. I realized that maybe I don't just doubt myself. Maybe I subconsciously doubt God for using me. Let me be frank: if I were God, I wouldn't have given me a second look. I constantly feel unqualified, inadequate and out of my league. I realized this morning that I not only lack security, I also lack faith. I don't just doubt myself, I also doubt God about myself. It was a revelation to me. Almost a horror. I wonder if you can relate.
If you know Jesus Christ personally, He has chosen you, too, and has appointed you to accomplish something good. Something that matters. Something prepared for you before time began (see Eph. 2:10). Something meant to have a serious impact within your sphere of influence.
Perhaps, like me, somewhere deep inside you entertain the lie that you know yourself better than God knows you and that you've somehow successfully hidden something from His omniscient eye. This could be the only explanation for why He bothers with you. For those of us who try to live in the light of Scripture, this thought process is far more subtle than outright. Roots always extend underground. Sometimes the only way we know one of these roots exists is when we see what's growing from it. If we have false assumptions like, "If God really knew me, He wouldn't like me" hidden somewhere in our core, it will feed our insecurities like a zookeeper shoveling hay to an elephant. We only know that assumption is there because something big, alive and destructive is growing from it.
Some of us never seek healing from God for our insecurities because we feel like we don't fit the profile. We think insecurity only looks one way--mousy, maybe even inept--and that's not exactly who we see in the mirror. At least not once the mascara's on. And it certainly is not the woman we present to the public. Insecurity's best cover is perfectionism. That's where it becomes an art form.
Keep an open mind to what an insecure woman looks like, and don't be too hasty to let yourself off the hook just because one dimension of the portrait doesn't look like you. The fact that she can be a complicated mix of confidence and self-consciousness is the very reason it took me so long to identify it in myself and admit it.
As I was preparing to write this book, I took an insecurity inventory and found that many of the statements did not apply to me at all.
Do I cry easily? No.
Do I avoid the spotlight in social situations? Uh, no. There's a reason some of my best buddies call me "Beth La Ham."
Other suggestions on the inventory, however, were so descriptive that I felt my face flush like someone had caught me cheating.
Do I have a strong desire to make amends whenever I think I've done something wrong? Are you kidding me? I have a strong desire to make amends even when I haven't done something wrong! And not solely because I want to do the godly thing. I battle an inordinate desire to make peace that can't always be others- or God-centered. I dread the backlash of people far more than the backlash of God at times. He's infinitely more merciful. Depending on how insecure I feel at the moment, having someone upset at me is very unsettling even if I was on the right side of the conflict. I cannot count the times God has had to tell me to cease trying to fix something that insists on staying broken. Loss of favor and approval and harmony is excruciating to people with insecurity.
Here are a few other survey questions that hit the bull's-eye:
If someone gets angry at me, do I have a hard time not thinking about it? I try to limit myself to obsessing.Do I sometimes feel anxious for no apparent reason? God knows I do.Does it hurt my feelings when I learn that someone doesn't like me? Breaks my heart.Do I fear that my husband might leave me for someone else? Not all the time. Not most of the time. But more often than I think is healthy.
Did you catch the part of the definition that describes insecurity as "a deep uncertainty about whether his or her own feelings and desires are legitimate"? How often do you have to ask yourself if what you're feeling is even real? Or if your desires should be quashed or pursued? If you're discerning or just suspicious? If you were supposed to do "this" or not? If you're like me, it's more often than you want to admit.
You might protest with something like this: "But Beth, I feel all those same things and I don't consider myself insecure." My question in response would be: How intensely do you feel those things? If you feel as intensely as I do, that woman you see in the mirror probably has a bigger insecurity problem than you're giving her credit for. Or, more important, seeking healing for.
SOURCE: Charisma Magazine - Beth Moore
