“You are enough,” or something like it is a proclamation which I am sure you have heard before, if not often. In our individualistic, Western society, this sort of messaging that we are “good enough” or we are “worthy,” permeates our media: whether it be in cinema, where the protagonist needs to learn to “believe in themselves,” coming to a realization that they are sufficient to overcome whatever the antagonist may be; and certainly on social media this gospel pervades self-care and self-love circles.
As a silly example, growing up, I recall hearing the advice that one character told Yugi, the protagonist in the cartoon Yu-Gi-Oh (a show about people battling each-other in a card game): “believe in yourself, and you’ll always win!” The implication is that Yugi always “has it in himself” to win the game, he just has to appropriate that truth and apply it: if he does that, then he will manifest on the battle-field that which is ultimately already true about himself. As another and significant example, look at this line from a “worship song,” one which I recall being sung often in Chapel when I attended Cedarville University: “Anthem” by Phil Wickham.
You call me beloved,
and you call me friend,
Your grace says I’m worthy,
You welcome me in.
In the context of this song, the implication is that God’s grace confirms that which was the case prior to the confirmation: the one singing is “worthy.”
As today marks the first Sunday in Lent, a season for reflection with fasting on our own human condition with a view to Christ’s atoning work, I thought it would be good and timely to reflect on this identity claim.
The Burden of Self-sufficiency
First, it’s important to establish what this message communicates. To claim that “I am enough” or that “I am worthy” communicates that I in myself meet some standard or criteria. Pragmatically, this phrase often is used to assure someone of themselves in moments of self-doubt or self-deprecation, as if to say, “all of those bad feelings about yourself, all of your shortcomings, all of your anxiety, all of your imposter-syndrome,” or whatever, “don’t focus on them! You are worthy!” The intended result is to foster a certain “self-love” by which the recipient accepts themselves as they really are, which is implied to be good. It is interesting to note that there is usually no genitive (what am I worthy “of”?), or no standard (by what standard am I “enough”?), by which the person is to measure themselves. This is kind of the point: the person is called to eschew the standard or measurement of “worthiness” (or at least an “unrealistic” standard or measurement — but who decides what’s “realistic”?) on the basis of an a priori knowledge that they are “enough.”
However, I am convinced that such messaging is profoundly damaging, as rarely does that a priori knowledge match up to that which is known a posteriori. In other words, although we may claim it for ourselves twenty-four hours a day, when the rubber hits the road, when we look ourselves in the mirror at the end of a day, I think most, unless it’s just me, have a profound intuition that they are, in fact, unworthy. Religion is not necessary to tell me that I am not enough –or else, why would the youngest generation, notable for their irreligion, also be the most depressed?1 It’s simply plain from the facts; and if this sort-of intrinsic “enoughedness” were the case in truth, you would expect it to at least sometimes line up with experience. The claim, although it may have felt good for a while to assert, simply does not hold up to examination: “I am a disappointment, I am a bad friend, I am prideful, I should not have said that, I am lustful,” or whatever, “and I certainly am not worthy.“
The consolation, “you are worthy,” is a hope placed inward — namely, it seeks something within me to get me through lived-experience. And the problem with an inward-pointing hope is that it is one which, on account of the unworthiness which we all intuitively feel, will fail. So, if our hope is set inward, upon someone as bad as I know myself to be even on my best days, then the only logical result is despair and hopelessness — anything else would just be self-denial or mere delusion.
The Freedom of Acknowledging that We’re Not Good Enough
In contrast to the “worship song” cited above, there is another beautiful and timeless hymn which speaks to the human condition profoundly. I’ll only cite a few verses, but it’s one of my favorites, so I would implore you to listen to the whole thing:
I hear the Savior say,
“Thy strength indeed is small,
Child of weakness, watch and pray,
Find in Me thine all in all.”Jesus paid it all,
All to Him I owe;
Sin had left a crimson stain,
He washed it white as snow.
At first brush, what Jesus says here may sound kind of disparaging! “What do You mean, ‘my strength indeed is small?’ I thought that ‘Your grace said I’m worthy!'” It may sting at first, like antibiotics on a wound, but I hope you see how incredibly liberating this is: Jesus knows that you are a disappointment, that you have been a bad friend, that you are prideful, that you should not have said that, that you are lustful. Therefore, we can be honest with ourselves and before our God with who we are: sinners; unworthy, not enough. But the most joyful truth ever made known among men is that we do not have to be enough, and, in fact we cannot. For Jesus, ever-loving, stoops down low, taking to Himself a human nature, to be enough on our behalf. And, unlike ourselves, this truth is firm and unshakable. When we fail, when we disappoint, when we sin, and when we are laden with all such worries about ourselves, we can come confessing to Christ our fears, anxieties, and sins; and Christ in turn always says to us anew,
Δεῦτε πρός με πάντες οἱ κοπιῶντες καὶ πεφορτισμένοι, κἀγὼ ἀναπαύσω ὑμᾶς. ἄρατε τὸν ζυγόν μου ἐφ’ ὑμᾶς καὶ μάθετε ἀπ’ ἐμοῦ, ὅτι πραΰς εἰμι καὶ ταπεινὸς τῇ καρδίᾳ, καὶ εὑρήσετε ἀνάπαυσιν ταῖς ψυχαῖς ὑμῶν· ὁ γὰρ ζυγός μου χρηστὸς καὶ τὸ φορτίον μου ἐλαφρόν ἐστιν.
“Come to Me, all who are tired and laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for Your souls; For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light.”
Matthew 11:28-30
Christ, in a real sense, is the Christian’s sufficiency, in Whom the only real hope lies, the “hope” of our own goodness failing miserably. And to acknowledge that we are “not enough” for the Christian need not, and should not, cause hopelessness: for that is simply not where our hope lies, for it was for this very reason that Christ came. It is our role to “find in Him our all in all.” And in this is real, lasting, external consolation; no longer do we need to carry our own burden to show that we ourselves are worthy. Self-doubt still exists, of course, and often our faith is weak such that we can barely see our Savior, our failings getting in the way. But in these moments we can look to our Hope, Who will bear us up, not only for this life, but unto the next.
So, in conclusion, do not look to yourself for hope. But look to God in Christ. You are not worthy, you are not enough; your strength is small. But Christ is very strong, strong enough for all of your unworthiness.
This is the first in, Lord willing, the first of a series of reflections on the Christian life for Lent 2025. Stay tuned for more!
- The mental health downward-spiral of the modern West is a complicated issue which is complicated, and I think there are many valid “reasons” which could be given for it (including social media use and abuse, political uncertainty and polarization, romantic dissatisfaction in singles and couples conjoined with and caused by rampant pornography addiction, abysmal diets, etc.). I personally think, though I am a non-expert, that the abandonment of traditional religion may be among the leading causes, since “vague spirituality” cannot really provide hope. When the reality of life sets in, and it will to everyone eventually, what is the logical response but despair for someone who does not have a meaningful grid by which to process these things? ↩︎