am (i)nadequate?

“Being “worthy” of a gracious Savior

includes a sense of unworthiness”

— John Piper

Disclaimer:

*This blog post reflects things I’ve learned through personal experience, study, and daily life. As a Christian, I firmly believe in the importance of using your own discernment, that is part of our duty as believers. It’s not my job to force or change your mind; I’m simply laying out what I’ve found to be true. It’s up to you, the reader, to test it and see whether it aligns with Scripture!*


“My worth is found in God, who has revealed Himself through His Son, Jesus Christ. Salvation is a gift of grace, secured by Christ’s sacrificial death and resurrection. It is not earned, but received through faith alone—a faith that is itself a gift from God. True faith is marked by repentance and a continual turning to God in trust and obedience.”

All of that to say, I still experience feelings of inadequacy and moments where I feel out of place.


So, how did I get here?

A few weeks ago, I had a full-blown meltdown at my parents’ kitchen island. What caused it? Months of built-up regret, anger, and confusion I had pushed aside for far too long.

To set the scene:

For years, I lived as a so-called Christian—but in reality, I was a hypocrite. I claimed faith in Christ, but I hadn’t truly surrendered my life to Him. It wasn’t until my sophomore year of college, when I hit rock bottom, that I came face-to-face with the truth: I wasn’t living out the gospel I said I believed. That moment became a turning point, revealing areas of my life that desperately needed to be brought into the light and made new.

Since then, the way I walk, talk, and carry myself has changed. That includes what I read, watch, what I listen to, who I spend time with, and—most importantly—how I treat and serve others.

I won’t go into a deep monologue about my background or where my beliefs stem from, that’s a post for another time. But after years of church hopping, moving, and growing, I’ve found a denomination that aligns deeply with my convictions. For context: I’m a member of a Reformed Presbyterian church in Charlotte. Right now, I’m not able to attend regularly because of where I live, so in this season, I’ve been part of a non-denominational home church in Pinehurst.

My convictions have led to a deep desire to prioritize orthodoxy (right belief) every day. And because right doctrine matters, my orthopraxy (right practice) must align with it and be treated with equal importance.


My view of people:

For those outside of the faith—whether atheist, agnostic, or part of another religion, I don’t view you with superiority or scorn. I don’t hold you to a biblical standard because I know (believe) true morality and purpose comes from God, and that the foundation for how we are meant to live is revealed in His Word. Without that foundation, I understand why the culture and world we live in can feel like your only guide. Where it’s “you against the world,” trying to fit in, follow the trends, or follow the next cultural or political wave. Scripture itself prepares us for this reality, so I approach you not with condemnation or attack, but with compassion and hope.

For those within the Christian faith—those who believe in the creation story, the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, and that salvation comes by grace through faith in Christ alone, I hold a different expectation. This belief transforms us. It compels us to turn from sin, pursue holiness, and live lives marked by joy, surrender, and obedience. For us, the call is ongoing repentance and alignment with the truth of God’s Word.


Before the meltdown:

Over the past few years, I’ve had the gift of truly connecting and forming meaningful friendships with fellow believers. I’m incredibly grateful for the love, fellowship, Bible studies, and deep relationships that have grown out of that.

Growing up in various denominations and filtering through a multitude of churches has given me a unique perspective—an inside look at both healthy and unhealthy places of worship. That experience has shaped me.

For those who didn’t grow up in church or haven’t had to hop around to find where they belong, landing in a healthy church might feel easy, normal, or comfortable. But for someone like me, it’s a rare and precious thing. When a church is built on a foundation of sound doctrine (orthodoxy) and lives it out faithfully (orthopraxy), it’s not something to take lightly. Consider yourself deeply blessed if you are part of a church where the foundation is firm, the intentions are godly, and the leadership earnestly seeks to glorify God in all things.

Rare & Precious Thing:

As I write this, I want to be clear—this isn’t meant to come across as, “You don’t care,” “It was easier for you,” or “Your worship isn’t good enough.” That’s not my heart. What I am saying—or maybe asking—is:

Have you become too comfortable?

Pause. Sit with this question for a while. Let it soak in.

 

Build-up to meltdown continued:

These past few years of growth have made me unashamedly bold in my faith. There’s a deep, burning desire within me to share the gospel with others—and not just that, but to encourage, support, and pour into the people around me.

When I look back at my younger self, I see someone trying to live in both worlds, claiming Christ while craving the world’s approval. That double life was dishonest and ultimately empty.

Now, I want better—not just for the lost, but for believers too. I long to see the Church walk in truth, grounded in doctrine, and rich in both faith and practice. Not because God has shown me something better for my own sake, but because it’s clear: God does not need us—yet He chose to create us, love us, and use us for His glory. The Church needs us to be faithful, not for status or show, but because we are His body, and we’ve been given the privilege to reflect Him.


Why the meltdown?

This feels a bit embarrassing to write—but I truly believed I was doing my part. I was showing up, staying available, volunteering where needed… and the biggest part that ultimately led to the meltdown: holding my Christian friends accountable.

I don’t need to be recognized. I’m not looking for applause or praise—I genuinely love being part of the covenant family. It brings me joy to serve the church and be faithful to my Creator. Hurt feelings shouldn’t stop me from doing what God has called me (believer) to do.

But here’s what became clear through a deep conviction and a growing desire to see more for my brothers and sisters in Christ: accountability is practically non-existent in much of today’s contemporary church. That lack of correction and loving discipline is one of the reasons we see pastors, elders, deacons, staff members—and yes, even congregants, making headlines for the wrong reasons. It's why the word “Christian” so often gets a bad reputation.

So—to my comfortable family, friends, brothers and sisters in Christ, elders, deacons, anyone who sits in church on a Sunday morning, attends a midweek group, drops off their kids at monthly camps, signs up to volunteer, and checks all the “Christian” boxes—the list goes on:


Why does accountability make you so uncomfortable?

Why does even the slightest challenge to grow—just 1% more in your faith—feel like a threat rather than an invitation? Why is it that when your faith family loves you enough to call you higher, it turns you away?

Meltdown:

Cold white quartz island beneath my skinny arms, face buried in my hands, bawling my eyes out—telling my dad how I must come across: legalistic, better-than, a know-it-all. Just a stuffy 23-year-old Christian, compensating with book knowledge because I’m unmarried, have no kids, and returned home to live under my parents’ roof. It must mean I have no real-world experience, no understanding of how hard life can get, and no authority to speak on solutions, since I haven’t gone through those struggles myself.

My dad came over and simply hugged me for what felt like minutes, not saying a word. He let me cry and feel all those raw emotions, before gently reassuring me of my growth, my love for God, and my passion for living righteously—for God’s glory.

I look back on that meltdown and see how selfish I was, to think I deserved anything from anyone. I caught myself wondering if I had just kept my mouth shut, or not offered a better way, maybe I would’ve preserved the image of being a “good” friend. But at what cost? Allowing others to walk toward harm just so I could protect my own reputation?

“Oh how unworthy I am—and yet, how grateful I am for every moment I feel inadequate. It’s in those very moments that I’m reminded I was never meant to carry the weight of being enough—because I am not. Where I fail, He picks me up. Where I tarnish my image in pursuit of His, He restores what truly matters. My lack of worldly achievement or approval doesn’t disqualify me, it magnifies His grace. Everything in me, and around me, points back to Jesus. His worth covers my unworthiness. His strength steadies my weakness. His righteousness clothes my shame. I don’t need to be seen as the “good” friend, the “wise” Christian, or the “mature” one, only as someone whose life is bound to the cross and led by the will of the Savior.”

What now?

I share this with an eagerness for you to know that, despite how it might appear, holding people accountable is not easy for me. This might come as a surprise to some in my life, but the truth is, I don’t want to be disliked or seen as the "know-it-all." Serving, loving, and volunteering come much easier for me—and I truly believe those are God-given gifts. The reason accountability has become a part of my walk is because I spent 21 years living unaccounted for—and what a miserable sister in Christ I was.

How much easier it would have been for someone to say to me, “Wake up and come to church on Sunday instead of sleeping in because you got too wasted the night before. I'll save a seat for you.” Or, “Hey, stop ignoring my text messages about grabbing coffee and actually come connect with me/us.” Or even, “Dress like you actually love and respect yourself.” Maybe, “Stop cussing like a sailor because that doesn’t reflect your love for Christ or look any different than the world.”

And the hardest one, “I know losing your brother is crushing, but there are better ways to cope. Let’s talk about it.”

How much easier it would have been for me to experience the love of Christ and His plan and purpose for my life, if there had been just one person in the countless churches I walked into who would’ve spoken into my life like that.

To my comfortable Christians: continue to serve, attend service, write notes, drink coffee, smile, and hug your fellow brothers and sisters in Christ. Do not slander one another. Be gracious, patient, and understanding to those around you, and truly seek to understand their walk, what their relationship with Christ really looks like. But above all, do not forget to hold one another accountable.

Lovingly, gently, and humbly.

Are you going to let someone you love touch the hot stove? Or are you going to tell them it's hot and warn them from the hurt, pain, and danger?

Let’s all work and function as the body of Christ. Let’s strive to be well-rounded believers.

This looks like:

  1. Being grounded in sound doctrine.

  2. Living out the truth of Scripture in our daily lives.

  3. Showing love and grace to others.

  4. Not just attending church on Sundays, but actively engaging with our community.

  5. Offering a helping hand, a listening ear, when someone is in need.

  6. Being disciplined in prayer and the reading of Scripture.

  7. Showing mercy and compassion when those around us fall short.

  8. Truly believing that our God can and will transform lives, and never diminishing the work of the Holy Spirit.

  9. Holding one another accountable in love, as we walk in obedience to Christ.

My prayer for myself and the church

Lord,


Let me be a well-rounded believer! Not one who only talks about faith, but one who lives it out with humility and a servant’s heart. May I hold others accountable in love, always pointing them back to Christ in their moments of weakness. May I be accounted for! Help me to maintain the balance of truth and grace, growth and repentance. May I love You with all my heart, soul, mind, and strength, and love my neighbors as myself.


Am I inadequate?
Yes. And thank God I am!
Only in recognizing my inadequacy can I fully see the sufficiency of Christ,
the beauty of the gospel,
and God’s plan, perfectly fulfilled.


 


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