When Approval Becomes a Drug

(Part 2 of 4 in the “Performing or Belonging?” series)

Let’s be honest, most of us are addicted to approval.

We don’t call it that. We call it being “driven,” “motivated,” “on our game.” But underneath the hustle is a hunger: Please notice me. Please like me. Please tell me I’m enough.

And if you think that’s not you, ask yourself this:

  • Why did you rewrite that text three times before sending it?
  • Why did you say yes when everything in you wanted to say no?
  • Why did that one piece of criticism stick in your head for a week straight?

We perform because we’re afraid.
Afraid of not measuring up. Afraid of being forgotten. Afraid that if we stop doing, we’ll stop mattering.

This world teaches us that worth is earned. That people only love winners. That image is everything. And that grind? It sneaks into every part of life including the church.

Somewhere along the line, we confused Christian faith with Christian performance. “Be a better spouse. Be a better parent. Read more Bible. Serve more. Smile while you do it.” It starts to feel less like grace and more like a spiritual rat race.

And people are tired of it? They are leaving the church over it. Not because they’re rejecting Jesus, but because they’re drowning in pressure they think He put on them.

But He didn’t.

Jesus didn’t say, “Come to me, all you who are killing it and crushing your goals.”
He said, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28, ESV)

Rest. Not reward for achievement. Not applause. Not another list of tasks. Rest. The kind that sinks deep into your bones and tells your soul, “You can stop performing. You’re already loved.”

That’s the gospel. And it is absolutely scandalous.

Because it means that the addict doesn’t have to hide.
The burned-out mom doesn’t have to fake it.
The guy battling depression doesn’t need to pretend he’s fine.
The believer with questions doesn’t need to perform certainty.

God doesn’t love the cleaned-up version of you. He loves the real you. The messy, insecure, unfinished, struggling version.

When we chase approval, we end up exhausted and empty. But when we root ourselves in grace, something radical happens. We start living from love, not for it.

And that changes everything.

You don’t have to prove your value. You don’t have to earn your belonging. You don’t have to perform your way into community. Not here. Not with Jesus.

Let’s call it what it is: performing is easier than being real, but it’s a prison.
It gives quick hits of affirmation and long stretches of isolation.

But belonging? That’s the long road to freedom. It’s messy, vulnerable, and sacred. And it’s worth every ounce of the effort.


This is Part 2 of 4 in our series on Performing or Belonging?
Next up: “The Longing to Belong” because every one of us is wired to be fully known and fully loved. And it’s time to stop settling for shallow substitutes.


Source: www.derrickhurst.org

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