Whether you’re into the Enneagram fad, or any other personality test out there, sometimes having insight into who we are can help to reveal greater truths buried within.

I am an Enneagram 1, and my biggest struggle is perfection, the root cause being pride. I learned young that if I could perform well, it pleased others and I received accolades. I skated through my youth and teen years as a perfectionist and it worked in my favor academically, socially and especially in my faith.

The more experience I gained in life, my perfectionism was just fed fuel to keep up the fire within. I thought highly of myself, my abilities and my place in life.

I was an exemplary wife, despite the fact that I pledged “I Do” as a teenage Bride and walked through some dark spots in my marriage. But my choices led to reconciliation and a changed husband (perfection bonus points, amiright?).

Even after dropping out of college to marry my 18 year old soldier, I went on in my education to earn my Masters degree. I excelled academically, putting forth little effort to write “A” papers and pass exams with flying colors.

I had my moments of waywardness as a young Christian but by my mid-20s I had built a reputation as a faithful woman in my church community. I could lead, teach, counsel and encourage with the best of them.

And once I became a Mom, I prided myself in being good at that, too. I eventually lead a local MOPS group and taught the other Moms how to be good, too.

In those moments I did the best with what I knew about myself. I did these things wholeheartedly, striving to love people and serve the Lord. But the truth is, I did it all in my own strength. I misrepresented the humble, loving, serving, giving Savior I proclaim. Because I was serving in my own strength, I’ve perpetuated lies the ”church” whispers- to wear masks, to act perfect and to give absolutely no grace. I counseled using theology and dogma and doctrine I believed to be RIGHT. I did biblical exegesis from a place of absolute certainty and not from a place of humility.

The hardest thing for a perfectionistic, prideful person to do is to make right wrongs. It’s a daily struggle still to just say sorry when I know I’ve hurt someone. Because the tape playing over and over in my mind tells me one truth: I’M AN UTTER FAILURE. And admitting that out loud, when I do indeed fail, is truly frightening.

Sure, you might see what my life looks like on the outside. You may have even benefited from my serving or loving or giving in the past, But I owe lots of apologies for not being surrendered in humility. Pride truly does come before the fall.

Reflecting on these moments in my life, I’m filled with shame. I remember sitting across from a friend broken by an unfaithful husband and saying the “Christian” thing was to stay married. I didn’t sit with her devastation. I didn’t encourage her worth as a person, apart from being a wife. I gave her a solution. And the more I know Jesus, I know this was dead.wrong. I didn’t weep with her as she wept. I did eventually apologize, but this was one example among many I could write about.

I’ve used perfection and being right to cover up the inner dialogue that tells me time and time again that I’m not good enough. That I am a failure. I’ve boasted in being ”not much of a worrier.” Who was I kidding? My entire inner life is fraught with fear.

Fear has kept me small. It’s kept me trapped to the inner dialogue that says I’ll fail. It keeps me wearing masks and giving pat Christian answers because it’s safe…because I’m afraid I’ll alienate or offend… because I’ll look dumb or uneducated. Because honestly, it’s easier than being vulnerable, spread wide open and having a bleeding heart. It protects me and keeps me safe.

My fear keeps me quiet.

But over the last year and a half, things have been changing in me. I unpacked some truth about who I really am. I looked at my darkness. I shut the shame tape off. My worth and value as a person has more to do with who I am than what I do. I am a human BEING, not a human doing. And I realize as I look back and see the dark moments, that those same experiences fuel the power of my light.

You see- I’m different than I was a couple years ago.

I’m more interested in humility than pride.

I’m more interested in sitting with someone coming from a heart of empathy than judging them with theology.

I want every message and teaching I lead to leave people feeling valued, and not ashamed.

I’m going to love and lead and create safe places for people by being vulnerable. By letting myself actually NEED Jesus instead of just being so self-sufficient.

I want to REHUMANIZE my life, my love, my relationships, my service. I stopped being so “Christian” and start being human. Jesus was FULLY God and FULLY human. For three decades every sermon, teaching, conference and revival message has told me how to be more GOD-LIKE. It’s time we start talking about how to be more human. Jesus entered our humanness, and I think there’s lessons and light to learn from being authentic instead of trying to be supernatural all the time.

Being human means I don’t have the answers to every doubter, theologian, apologist or relative. I’m finally at a place in life where I care more about relationships than I do about being right. I care more about people finding freedom, love and belonging than I care about being perfect.

My conclusion is simple: It’s time to rehumanize faith. There are countless hurting, broken, devastated people. Sitting in a pew on a Sunday morning isn’t enough to remedy the border crisis, the refugees, the wanderers, the disenfranchised, the marginalized, the addicts, drunks and abused. We need to embrace who they are- humans made in the image of God- before they even come near to the cross.

We love because He first loved us. Let me- and you- go and do the same. Love first. Be vulnerable first. Know our own worth first. You cannot love your neighbor until you love yourself.