House of Cards: The Danger of Measuring Worth by Spiritual Achievement

"Let not the foot of arrogance come upon me." – Psalm 36:11 (ESV)

Years ago, the Lord used a painful experience to reveal a pride I didn't realize I had. And lately, He's been guiding me deeper into that same lesson. Let me share what happened and see if you can relate.

It's easy for us to use our spiritual status to prop up our self-worth and social image. We look for fulfillment in how we're perceived or in the contributions we make to our church community. This breeds a feeling of "I've arrived!" — a sense that we've earned status or recognition, which makes us feel valued and like we belong. It's a transactional mindset: if I do — or appear to do — the right things, I'll be appreciated and respected. And pride is at the heart of it.

Here's what makes this so deceptive: spiritual achievement can become a substitute for dependence on God. We pour ourselves into serving the church and slowly come to rely on that service — and the recognition it brings — rather than on Him. It's a spiritual illusion. Spiritual cotton candy — it looks substantial but dissolves the moment you need it most.

In 2019, I was ordained as a deacon in my church. It marked the pinnacle of my spiritual achievement. I finally felt respected, accepted, and valued. I had arrived. It may sound silly for a 46-year-old to feel that way, but I did — and I don't think I'm alone.

Shortly afterward, my illusion shattered. A terrible conflict erupted, and I found myself on the losing side — stripped of my deaconship and ultimately removed from the church. In a short time, I went from being respected as a deacon to the depths of disgrace and rejection. That's what happens when you build your worth on achievement-based acceptance — it's a house of cards, and eventually it falls.

But God is good. He used this to humble me and reveal something wicked in my heart. While striving for acceptance, I had fallen into a formulaic spirituality — feeling I needed to earn my worth in my church community. I became overly concerned with what others thought of me, allowing that worry to dominate my heart — a place reserved only for the Lord. It took losing everything to see how hollow that pursuit really was.

Today, as I integrate into my second church since that experience, my approach looks very different. It's less about me and more about Him. I don't seek recognition — just the opportunity to serve the Lord and to bless the church. It's a refreshing perspective, and one I wouldn't have without the painful lesson God taught me through it all.

➤ BIG IDEA: Your spiritual worth is measured by Christ alone — not by achievement, title, or recognition. Anything else is spiritual cotton candy.

Questions to Ponder: Can you see yourself in my story — and if so, where, specifically? Where do you find your sense of spiritual worth: is it rooted in Christ, or has it quietly become tied to roles, recognition, or others' opinions? If it has, what's underneath it — what fear or hunger is that approval really feeding? Sit with that question.

☐ Application: With your journal in hand, start with an honest diagnosis. Write down where you look for worth — a title, a role, being needed, being praised, or what certain people think of you. Then ask the harder question: what is that approval really promising you? Name the lie beneath it — often something like "I only matter or belong if I'm noticed" or "I'm only safe or loved if I'm respected." You can't repent of what you won't name.

Then repent in two directions. In the moment: the next time the craving for recognition flares, confess it then and starve it — do one act of service no one will ever know about, and let it be enough that He sees. Over time: each morning, preach the truth back to yourself before the day sells you the lie. Your worth was settled at the cross — "God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8, ESV). You are accepted by grace, not by achievement (Ephesians 2:8–9). That's the real shift — moving where you draw your life from: not the applause you're chasing, but the acceptance you already have in Christ.

And pray this with me: "Lord, help me resist the urge to earn my value — in my church and everywhere else. Help me see my worth through Your eyes, not through the eyes of others. Make me humble, not arrogant. Teach me to find my life in You, not in what others think of me."