Do I Have What It Takes?
I’ve grappled with a question that’s haunted me most of my life.
It’s followed me like a shadow… or a pesky mosquito, small enough to ignore at times, but too persistent to dismiss. Sometimes quiet. But when it gets close enough to your ear, it’s like it’s quietly screaming: “Do I have what it takes?” The question has shape-shifted over the years, taking on different meanings in different seasons. And I’ve heard plenty of inner voices try to answer it. Depression says, “No. Absolutely not. You’ve already tried and failed. What’s the point?” Anxiety says, “Maybe… but what if you mess up again? What if they find out you’re not enough?” Perfectionism adds, “You do… if you get it right. Every single time.” People-pleasing whispers, “You have what it takes as long as they’re happy with you.” Codependency chimes in, “You’re valuable when you’re needed. Stay useful, or stay invisible.” Imposter syndrome grins and mutters, “You’re just faking it anyway. Someone better is coming.”
It’s exhausting. It’s isolating. And at times, it’s paralyzing.
I haven’t always had names for those voices, but I know the feelings. The silence. The questions. The fear of being too much or not enough. As a middle schooler, and well into high school, I remember looking around and feeling like everyone else had the rulebook: how to act, how to speak up, how to fit in.
I’d wonder if I should take the risk to say what I really thought or go for what I really wanted. But most of the time, I stayed quiet.
Observing. Mimicking. Trying to blend in.
It wasn’t that I didn’t care. It was that failure felt unsafe.
Rejection felt unbearable. Not fitting the mold felt like riding a bicycle downhill with no brakes, knowing a crash was coming, bracing for the impact. And yet, even in those moments, something deeper stirred.
Looking back now, I think it was bravery. A divine nudge perhaps, whispering: Maybe this fear is worth pushing through. So I did.
Again and again, I chose what felt like risk. I leaned into wonder and chose adventure. I embraced the unknown with trembling hands.
And if I’m honest, it wasn’t always the right choice either. I fumbled through some really bad decisions with heavy consequences. But I’ve also tried relentlessly not to give up.
College was a mixed bag of beauty and brokenness. I walked through traumas that left deep scars. But I also lived in other countries, saw the world from different angles, and realized just how small I was; and somehow, how much I still mattered. That I can carry both brokenness and beauty in the same hands. That maybe impact isn’t about being the best, but about being faithful to show up.
I’ve kept choosing courage, even when I felt anything but strong. Someone asked me the other day:
“If your life were a movie, what would it be called?” Almost immediately I thought:
“Resilience.”
Because that’s the common thread.
Not ease. Not winning. And definitely not perfection. But resilience - the decision to get back up and keep showing up when it would be easier to shut down.
I’ve wrestled with identity most of my life.
I’ve bopped between almost every label from punk to preppy, hippie to wannabe athletic, geeky theatre kid to full-on band nerd.
Sometimes (okay, a lot of times) it was messy.
But sometimes, it was beautiful.
Because when you live in all those spaces, you end up befriending people in all of them.
And that taught me something sacred: How to see the person, not just the persona. How to recognize the same beating heart underneath every trend, type, and label.
My empathy grew tenfold. But so did my ache. Because as much as I gave, and listened, and got people… I rarely felt like anyone got me.
People seemed (from my skewed lens) to want me only when they needed something:
A shoulder to cry on. A safe place to vent. Someone who would understand when no one else could… or at least someone who would listen without judgment.
Now, I’m a parent and a working professional. Trying desperately not to pass on these insecurities to my kids through my parenting decisions. Wanting them to feel secure in their identity in Christ, not in what the world has for them, and definitely not what the shadowy questions want to pester them with. And I’m not where I thought I’d be in my career, at least not by traditional timelines or corporate standards.
But I’m still standing, still working to put that damned question of whether I have what it takes behind me and instead focusing on the fact that I do have what it takes because what it takes is not to give up.
I’ve made it through 100% of my hardest days. And I still choose to show up. Not because I always feel like I have what it takes- but because I believe God does.
And He lives in me. So that’s enough.
If you resonate with any part of my story, please know this: Those voices that tell you you’re not enough?
They lie. They’re loud. They’re convincing. But they’re not true.
Here’s what is true:
You are fearfully and wonderfully made. (Psalm 139:14)
You are God’s masterpiece, created in Christ Jesus to do good works He prepared in advance for you to do. (Ephesians 2:10) You are chosen, holy, and dearly loved. (Colossians 3:12) You are more than a conqueror through Him who loves you. (Romans 8:37) You are not alone. He will never leave you or forsake you. (Deuteronomy 31:6) And when you feel weak, His power is made perfect in that very place. (2 Corinthians 12:9)
This isn’t a motivational speech. This is an identity reminder. This is who you are - not because of what you’ve done or failed to do, but because of who God is and what He’s spoken over you.
He doesn’t ask us to have it all together.
He asks us to trust Him. To keep showing up. To believe that He’s already equipped us with everything we need for the season we’re in.
So when that pesky question creeps back in...
“Do I have what it takes?”
You can take a deep breath, look it in the eye, and say:
“No, not always. But He does. And He lives in me. So that’s enough.”
Takeaway
Takeaway
You don’t have to have it all figured out or be perfect to show up. Your presence matters. Your story matters. And when God lives in you, you already have what it takes to keep going—even on the days you don’t feel it.
Prayer & Reflections
What inner voice have you been listening to lately that doesn’t align with God’s truth?
What would it look like to replace that voice with what He says about you?
Say This Prayer With Me
God, I confess I don’t always feel like enough. I compare, I overthink, and I listen to voices that don't come from You. But You’re steady. You’re faithful. And You’re with me. Help me remember that because You live in me, I can show up—imperfect, uncertain, and still loved. That’s enough.
Amen.