When You Assume It’s About You, Ask One Question

I’m sitting in church when a week of underslept hits like a wave. As I struggle to stay awake, I remember a similar moment years back. I was in college, attending a small church plant pastored by a friend’s dad. The pastor approached me after the service and gently commented about my nearly falling asleep. There was no judgment in his eyes or tone, simply care and curiosity.

I broke. Now fighting back tears instead of sleep, I confessed I hadn’t slept in days. Because grad school was not on my radar—overseas missions was the plan—but I couldn’t ignore the unexpected God-nudge to apply and application windows were closing. I’d had a full day of class, followed by an all-nighter working on applications, another day of class, then a late shift at Subway, followed by more work on the applications, and more class. I was approaching four days without an ounce of sleep.

I walked away from our conversation with a priceless life lesson: don’t assume it’s about you.

Often we don’t know someone else’s why. Appearances are misleading as we see only what’s on the surface. 

The yawn during church doesn’t mean your preaching is putting people to sleep.

The delayed response doesn’t mean you’re being ignored.

The invite you didn’t get probably doesn’t mean they don’t like you.

Even the rejection may not be personal.

Sometimes we’re simply busy, working through something unrelated, or not free to make the decision—as are others. Give grace. 

We assume it’s a slight and turn to self-pity. But if we unbridle our inner critic we only amplify the hurt. 

It’s Not About You

When I’m tempted to make assumptions about something that’s likely not about me, I ask myself a question: Is my reaction opening my heart or closing me off? 

Pausing to prayerfully assess helps me see whether I’m retreating, building walls, giving the enemy a foothold.

He’s sneaky like that, planting lies about what we deserve and what we’re worth. These whispers bring angst, anxiety, confusion. Believe them and we begin to isolate. We harbor bitterness, jealousy, and fear. Turn inward, where we’re at the mercy of our brutal self-talk. 

Assuming only that it’s not about me—that there are factors I can’t see—frees me to choose joy and love without hesitation. It means I move towards God, which helps me move towards people, like He always is.

Sometimes it all makes sense later. Sometimes it won’t, but we are still okay because we’re secure in our Father’s love. We don’t expect others to fill our every need because God already has.

Stop the Assumption Cycle

What is it for you that closes off your heart? 

Where are you quick to draw assumptions? Conclude that you were wrong, or wronged? Believe it was about you?

Self-retreat can become a habit. Our default response. Our way of living.

But it takes a toll. Our once tender heart becomes impenetrable. God seems distant. We feel alone.

How do we stop the cycle of assumption-drawing than walling ourselves off? We start with the question, Does this open or close my heart? Then we follow where it leads.

As you bravely choose open hands, surrender, and curiosity, God is with you. Let Him hold you and heal you and fill you.

But if you’re on the opposite trajectory, and the pain seems too big to overcome, here are three ways to remember it’s not about you.

1. Get Honest

We can’t grow from what we won’t own. There are plenty of times I clench assumed hurt longer than I should. Once I label my response as closing my heart, I’ve got to do something about it. But the first step is to get honest. 

Whether we’re right or wrong isn’t the question we need in these moments. Instead, use questions like Is my heart staying tender? Are my eyes on Jesus? Is my ear pressed to His heart? to shift your focus off yourself. 

When we put self at the center, we shut out both God and other people.

2. Seek Accountability

Honesty spills over into accountability. We get real with ourselves and transparent with God, and it becomes easier to share with trusted friends when we’re struggling. Yes, it takes some intentionality, but it’s the natural next step. 

I’m learning how much I need the ladies on my group text thread and the ones who gather in my living room over lunch hour. One is a group of likeminded soul sisters who live afar, but they’re instantly available via text. The other is comprised of neighbors. Proximity creates opportunity to bump into each other throughout the week, not just when we plan to meet. This too, is a great recipe for accountability.

Accountability means we lay our struggle on the table and invite others to ask us how we and God are doing. Even if they don’t check in often, lies lose power over us when we bring them into the light. Simply knowing that others know helps us remember that we have agency.

3. Ask for Prayer

Your accountability people are also great friends to turn to for prayer. They know you well, and care about you deeply. Lean on each other for prayer. 

I love my group text thread for the immediacy of response when there’s a time-sensitive prayer request. Although we may not all catch the text right away, someone will. There’s comfort in solidarity and power in praying together. 

When you know at least a few of your neighbors, prayer support and an in-person hug is as close as next-door. We’ve got multiple neighborhood group text threads too, which makes us all the more accessible to each other.

Pay Attention & Practice

The next time you’re triggered to feel sorry for yourself, put yourself down, or respond in hurt, pay attention. Start with that brave question–is my heart opening or closing right now? Practice unhinged honesty so you can heal, hear from God, and lean on trusted friends who pray for you and hold you accountable.

Let’s pray.

Lord when we think it’s about us, remind us that our purpose is to point the glory to you. We self-inflate or self-defeat when we make it about us. Help us to be brave enough to be honest. Give us clarity to see when our hearts become guarded and friends who will pray for us and encourage us to grow.

Just a friend over here in your corner,

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