Burnout and the Identity Treadmill: How to Find Real Peace

Blog by Alan Fadling

I’ve struggled with insecurity most of my life. More often it has made me timid rather than brash or self-promoting. It has been important for me to lean into my insecurities rather than avoiding what makes me feel timid.

Avoiding what provokes insecurity hasn’t been a good move for me. Accommodating insecurity tends to expand it instead of reduce it. Insecurity has me looking to my work to get something. Working from security in Christ enables me to come to work to give something. The difference is profound, even if it is hard sometimes to discern.

In a recent podcast interview, I was asked, “What is something you think you need that you don’t actually need?” My answer: more fame.

I’m an author. Most of us who write books would like more people to know about our books and read them. There is nothing wrong with that. We work on marketing and publicity. That’s a key element of the work of being an author.

But fame? That’s a different thing. That’s about having more and more people not only knowing about you but also liking you or admiring you. Doesn’t that sound at least a bit insecurity-driven?

If my identity is rooted in fame, how much fame will satisfy me? Won’t I always be able to point to someone who has more of it than I do? And won’t that in turn drive me to seek more of it? Fame solves insecurity like saltwater quenches thirst. It doesn’t. More fame only drives insecurity deeper.

Having the good opinion of a lot of people doesn’t actually change anything about me. If many people appreciate a book I’ve written, I can say “thank you.” It’s a gift. But if I need lots of people to like a book I’ve written, then I’ve stepped into a trap.

And you don’t have to be a public figure to want more people to like you. Social media is obviously built on a common longing to be liked. The most basic positive response to a social media post is called a “like.” There’s a great difference between enjoying likes on your posts and needing them. Assuming that the likes others add to your social posts are essential to your well-being will put you on a treadmill that is steadily running faster and faster.

So, in case I haven’t made it clear how insecurity drives hurry, let me say it bluntly: If you have to do impressive things to prove yourself, you’ll have to keep doing more and more. An identity you have to prove is subject to the law of diminishing returns. You have to do more and more, bigger and better, to get the same identity high you got before with doing less.

You can walk on this identity treadmill at 3 mph. Or jog on it at 5 mph. You can even sprint on it at 12 mph. But eventually you just can’t run any faster. You can’t do more. For some, this becomes burnout. For others, it provokes a kind of midlife crisis.

But these painful experiences might be a gift if they awaken us to the reality that what we were painfully trying to earn is something God has already given us.

Let me ask a simple question: How do you know if insecurity is driving hurry in your life?

One way to discern the answer to this question is basic: Insecurity and true prayer are at odds with one another. Humility and prayer are longtime friends, and insecurity is very different from humility.

In An Unhurried Leader, I talk about why I sometimes struggle in prayer: “I’ve come to discover that my struggle in prayer tends to correspond to the degree that I am seeking to establish my identity through things I do and through what others say about me. This me is what Brennan Manning, in his book Abba’s Child, called the impostor, and this impostor often tries to take responsibility (and credit) for my leadership roles” (p. 152).

Here's an extended description of the impostor as Brennan Manning described it:

“Obviously, the impostor is antsy in prayer. He hungers for excitement, craves some mood-altering experience. He is depressed when deprived of the spotlight. The false self is frustrated because he never hears God’s voice. He cannot, since God sees no one there. Prayer is death to every identity that does not come from God. The false self flees silence and solitude because they remind him of death.” (Quoted in An Unhurried Leader, p. 152)

I’ve come to recognize in my own experience that when I’m resisting the regular practice of prayer, it’s often a time when this impostor has been operating as my primary identity. Only an identity rooted in something real and God-given can really pray. If I am awake enough, I realize that my level of resistance to prayer is a warning light on the dashboard of my leadership, making me aware of this misplaced sense of identity.

Resistance to connecting with God is a sign that I don’t really believe my value is rooted in God but is hiding out there somewhere for me to find and achieve myself.

Remember: You are already valued by the One whose perspective matters most. Take that with you as you engage your life, your relationships, and your work.

For Reflection:

• That little line from 1 John 4 would be good to keep in the back of your mind, perhaps as a question: “How am I coming to know and more deeply rely on God’s love for me? In what ways might insecurity be driving me to grab for something I actually already have in God?”