The Fear of Irrelevance

Sometimes, honesty is, by necessity, brutal. It’s not always fun to face the truth. It’s not fun to look inside of yourself and see something ugly, but that’s what I had to do. I sat down on our couch and made myself take a long hard look.

“God… what is this? Why am I like this?”

A constant uneasiness. Suspicion. Distrust. Skepticism. Like a tiny sliver, buried under layers and layers of skin that kept becoming irritated. A hang up that I was always working on, and yet, never overcoming. A niggling, subtle sense that something ,though I knew not what, was being threatened. I found myself frequently beating back the temptation to think criticizing thoughts of people who had done no true harm to me. And then, there was this insatiable desire to be good at everything. Everything. If others demonstrated a skill that I did not have, I felt a strange panic. I didn’t measure up. I felt a compulsion to learn that skill. If I didn’t, it was as if I was falling behind.

For as long as I can remember, I have been driven by an incessant internal pressure to achieve. There has always been within me, a nagging void, seeking worth, propelling me ever onward, and a gut-wrenching sense of failure cracking a merciless whip. Why did I feel this way? Why did the achievements of others make me feel as if I meant nothing? There was a deep sense of inferiority. Anything other people could do, that I could not, I perceived as a gap in myself.

I never thought of myself as “competing” with others, but essentially, I was. I was competing for the love, approval, and admiration of others. I realized at some point, that others perceive this as jealousy.

I *shuddered* at that thought.

Could I be jealous?

The realization that this was likely the case was painful and humiliating, but I had to look it straight in the eye. Ever since I was a child, I had to be the best. I had to know more. I had to have the highest grades. I had to accomplish the most. I had to achieve the fastest. I had to be the smartest. I had to win every award. I had to be the most successful.

It was like a drug.

A pat on the back and the twinkle of admiration in someone’s eye was my “fix.”

But then, as quickly as triumph is acknowledged, people move on. And, once people moved on, the devil was quick to point out all the things I still could not do. No matter how many times I “won”, I walked off stage with a hollow sense of failure.

You would think that achievements would be like bricks. Bricks that are stacked, one on top of another, all throughout your life, creating a strong resource for other people to glean and benefit from. In theory, many achievements would make you more valuable to others. I suppose that’s what I wanted to be. Valuable. Important to others. But for me, it seemed that once a victory was acknowledged, my new brick, whatever it was, was ground into a fine powder by that sense of failure, and then blown away in the next gust of wind. There was no stack of bricks. There was me standing next to the rubble of 1,000 attempts to feel like I mattered to people. And even though I had accomplished many things, and had a long trail of proverbial “trophies”, I still felt invisible.

There has always been, very deep within me, that sorrowing sense of irrelevance.

Easily forgotten.

Easily replaced.

Easily looked over.

I cannot tell you how many times, the sight of a strong support system has triggered a deep ache in the innermost places of my being. I can hardly watch “The Waltons” without watery eyes and a sniffle. Mark often glances over and inquires:

“Silly girl. Why are you crying?”

“Look at how they are all there for each other.”

Instagram posts of large groups of people gathered in a waiting room, anticipating a new life. Big extended family gatherings. Groups of friends hanging out. The sights always make me tear up.

How many times have I seen people rally around a person and felt that awful pain within myself?

That sting of irrelevance.

“Mark… there will be 10 people at my funeral. No one will even notice I am gone.”

“That’s not true.”

“Count.”

Irrelevant.

As I sat there, thinking over these things, my insides twisted.

“God… clearly I am afraid of being irrelevant to others. I am ashamed to admit I may be jealous and competing for relevance, but I see it.”

Immediately, a verse came to my mind, burning within my heart in white hot conviction.

“Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not [love], I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.”

Irrelevant.

I opened my Bible to 1 Corinthians 13 to read the rest of the chapter.

“And though I have the gift of prophecy and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not [love], I am nothing.”

Nothing…

Irrelevant.

Tears streamed down my face because God was being so graciously personal to me in that moment.

I read on.

“And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not [love], it profiteth me nothing.”

Nothing.

*Irrelevant.*

I read down through the rest of the chapter…

Love is patient, it’s kind. Love does not envy. Love does not vaunt itself. It’s not puffed up. It does not behave itself unseemly. Love does not seek her own, is not easily provoked, doesn’t think evil of others, (criticize), doesn’t rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.

Love never fails.

Love. Never. Fails.

Everything else can and will “vanish away”

Do more. Be more. Give more. Work more. Rise higher. Aim bigger. Go! Go! Go!

None of that ultimately matters.

I realized in that moment, that there is only one thing that truly makes you irrelevant.

No matter how good you are, no matter how many things you can do, no matter how many people surround you, no matter how much admiration you acquire, no matter how many people you please…

The only thing that makes you truly irrelevant, is if you do not love others.

I asked the Lord to help me that day.

To fill my heart to overflowing with His love for people.

I’ve walked quite a few miles since then. Most of them lonely without a grand support system and without people cheering me on. I’ve even walked away from what little approval I once clung to. I have embraced that upon this earth, I may never be deemed as important in the eyes of men. That the number of people who consider me valuable will most assuredly be very small. I will live out my days, never again pursuing some elusive sense of significance, but serving a tiny unit of people, with all the love I have to give.

I realize now, that that’s where it’s at.

I realize now, that upon this earth, there’s nothing I’d rather be.

Irrelevant to men. Significant to Him.