In the last few weeks, I’ve felt more personally tested than I have in a long time.

• accused of selling Jesus

• criticism of my Matai ceremony

• and the most recent situation I'm sharing in this Heart Note

Some fairly decent hits in quick succession. And these things usually precede newness and growth—which is a good thing, just uncomfortable.

Some seasons don’t test your gifting—they test your identity.

And you know me—I don’t just share the good and hide the messy.

I share what I genuinely believe may be helpful for others, even when it’s unfinished or uncomfortable.

It’s often in the messy moments that I’ve discovered some of the greatest diamonds—clarity, meaning, revelation, and growth.

So if you’ve ever found value in the good I share, many of those insights were first shaped in moments just like this—that's what these #HeartNotes are here to offer.

The Recent Situation

Last week, I received a 1:1 coaching application.

As usual, I asked a few clarifying questions—never to interrogate, but to ensure I was truly understanding the person and discerning whether I could serve them well, honorably, and responsibly.

This is simply part of my process.

Years ago, I said yes to everyone. And in doing so, I failed people—not because I lacked care, but because I lacked discernment and competence.

Clarity isn’t unloving. It’s responsible stewardship.

The Shift

As the conversation unfolded, the applicant shared something important.

Despite loving God deeply and having significant theological training, they said they often feel like they’re never doing enough for Him—a common symptom of performance Christianity.

This is exactly the type of person I love to help, so my questions were to gain greater clarity.

At this point, they asked if we could casually jump on a call that morning.

I explained that casual calls (different from my One-off Goodness Calls) aren’t part of my 1:1 application process.

The email-based approach is deliberate and intentional, to create the pace and clarity needed so we can both discern whether 1:1 coaching is truly the right next step.

So I suggested we continue clarifying in email first, so both of us were clear and protected.

That’s when the tone shifted.

Language appeared suggesting that I was "guarded, rigid, un-Spirit-led, and unlike Jesus."

What was meant to be a conversation for "clarity and service" turned into an "evaluation of Lee."

The issue was no longer whether we were a good fit—it had become a judgment about my heart and character.

That revealed something important:

Boundaries often feel like rejection to people who are used to immediate access.

By asking for clarity, my intentions were described as “interrogation” and “vetting,” and framed as a lack of compassion.

It caught me off guard.

This was someone I have no relationship with making broad conclusions about who I am and how I serve.

And that’s where this truth became clear:

Judgment without relationship is not discernment.

Clarity isn't Opposed to Compassion

Clarity can feel threatening to someone already carrying a performance yoke—because clarity exposes where pressure and self-measurement are still operating.

It’s like stepping into silence after living in constant noise.

At first, the quiet feels unsettling—not because it’s wrong, but because the noise had become normal.

So when performance-driven faith is met with clarity and boundaries, the discomfort often seeks a face—and in this moment, I happened to be the face.

So I have empathy here—because I understand why it happens.

Still, care was misread as control. Clarity was misread as rigidity. And they implied that I was "un-Spirit-led and unlike Jesus."

That stung.

And yet, this is exactly how deeply ingrained yokes and religious frameworks tend to operate—and often most strongly in sincere, knowledgeable believers.

When this individual asked to get on a call, they said that verbal processing felt easier than email. Yet email didn’t seem to be a barrier when clearly communicating their accusations and evaluations.

That made it clear:

It was never about email or a call. It was resistance to clarity—and the discomfort that surfaces when a performance yoke meets a boundary, expectations don't get their way, and the noise is interrupted by stillness.

The irony is this:

They were aware they were under a performance yoke and came seeking help for it—yet they wanted that help delivered on their terms, through the very mindset that created the weight in the first place.

You can’t heal a yoke with the same thinking that put it on.

You can't hold new wine with an old wineskin. You need a new wineskin. Meaning, you need new thinking.

And that requires humility, teachability, and courage.

Stand, Therefore

In the past, I would have explained myself. Felt guilty. Assumed I had failed. Tried to fix it.

Not from humility—but from old insecurities and a people-pleasing pattern I’ve spent years unlearning.

People-pleasing isn’t humility. It’s insecurity wearing spiritual language—and I was a pro at it.

And if we’re not careful, that same people-pleasing will cause us to absorb accusations, carry yokes that were never ours, and step into a kind of bondage we were never meant to live under.

I did reflect—I always do.

But this wasn’t correction coming at me. It was accusation. And accusation always has the same aim: to pressure you into compromise, control, and condemnation—also known as manipulation and intimidation.

Not every voice needs an answer. Some simply require a boundary.

Jesus modeled this well.

“He did not entrust Himself to them, for He knew what was in man.” (John 2:24)

That isn’t guardedness. It’s wisdom.

So I chose to remain anchored, and did not compromise my process or boundaries to meet expectations that weren’t aligned.

And the process naturally came to an end.

We’re not called to walk with everyone—even though religion and performance Christianity pressures us to. Many sincere people have worn themselves thin trying to do so.

But with those we are called to walk with, we do so honorably and respectfully.

And that’s exactly why these processes exist for me: to steward the assignment faithfully.

Final Words

So yeah, these last few weeks have been a good sparring session for my heart, lol. It only makes me even more thankful for the light & easy yoke of Jesus—it's often proved in these moments.

Some seasons don’t test your gifting—they test your identity.

Sometimes the greatest opposition doesn’t come from outside the faith. It comes from within it. And that’s often where identity is tested most.

But identity doesn’t need defending—it needs grounding.

“Jesus knew where He came from and where He was going.” (John 13:3)

That’s what kept Him steady when He too was misunderstood.

So if you find yourself in a season where your character is questioned, heart is misread, or faithfulness is quietly judged—pause.

This may not be correction. It may be confirmation—and an invitation to remain steadfast.

Because when identity is settled, accusation loses its power.

You don’t strive.
You don’t explain.
You simply remain.

And that’s how we walk with Jesus—not louder, not harder, but truer.

There is goodness here for you.

Hold The Vine.

1. Where in my life am I tempted to explain myself in order to feel safe or approved?

2. When my boundaries are questioned, do I interpret that as failure—or as an invitation to remain anchored in who I am?

3. Am I discerning correction through relationship and fruit, or reacting to accusation and pressure?

Honor one boundary without apology. Choose one place this week to uphold a clear, kind boundary—without over-justifying it. Let clarity be enough.

Bonus

• Struggle with not feeling enough? Watch this

• Fear what people think? Watch this

• Are you being misunderstood? Watch this