Finding joy that isn’t tied to approval, performance, or being liked

I care what people think. There, I said it.

I envy the people who can say what needs to be said and then move on with their lives. No replaying the conversation. No spiraling. No wondering if they were too much or not enough.

Me? I struggle with disappointing others. With saying the uncomfortable thing that still needs to be said. More times than not, when I speak up, when I’m at the table not as a “yes” person, I am sweating and thinking, oh man, they’re going to hate me now. Cue the spiral.

And while we’re being honest, appearances matter to me. How I show up. My energy. Even my outfits. Leadership has taught me that these things can be beautiful and important. But when being liked becomes the thing that holds your joy, when approval starts to equal worth, that’s a problem.

Even as I write this, part of me wonders if this is too much. Too vulnerable. Too honest. But here we are.

Advent, Mary, and a Different Kind of Joy

This week, during Advent, I keep thinking about Mary.

She’s young. Unmarried. Pregnant. Her reputation could have been destroyed. Her life was seriously at risk. When the angel tells her what’s about to happen, she asks the most human question: How? And then she does something that stops me every time.

“I am the Lord’s servant. Let everything you’ve said happen to me.” - Luke 1:38

Reputation or not. Mosaic Law or not. She doesn’t ask for a moment to think about it. She says yes.

Her joy wasn’t rooted in approval or even safety. It was rooted in God. And because of that, nothing could take it from her.

When Joy Gets Tied to Approval

We live in a culture that constantly pushes us toward expectations and performance. Be liked. Be impressive. Be agreeable. Be polished.

And while none of those things are inherently bad, they become dangerous when they start to carry the weight of our joy. When approval equals worth. When being accepted feels necessary to feel whole.

Joy that depends on people, circumstances, or outcomes is fragile.

The moment life goes off script, it slips right through our fingers.

A Simpler, Stronger Anchor

The beauty of Advent is its simplicity. A Savior born in a manger. A young woman who trusted God more than public opinion. A reminder that joy doesn’t come from doing everything right or being liked by everyone.

Joy isn’t loud. It isn’t flashy. It doesn’t demand perfection.

Joy is steady.

If I were Mary, I know that yes wouldn’t have come easily. But in this season, I’m learning how to trust God with my joy the same way she did. To anchor it somewhere it can’t be taken. To be who God called me to be, not who the world prefers.

And maybe that’s the invitation for all of us this Advent.

Not to stop caring overnight.

But to loosen our grip on approval and place our joy where it was always meant to be.