The Most Attractive Quality
They say self-confidence is attractive, and there’s some truth to it. The woman who walks into the room self-assured and comfortable in her own skin is, well, captivating. She speaks intelligently, moves gracefully, holds her head high, and never seems to walk alone. Perhaps we’re drawn to her because we’re looking for what she has. We wonder, “What’s the secret to that unflappable security?”
Yes, self-confidence is attractive, but it doesn’t reflect the whole truth. Airs of confidence are often accompanied by insecurity and/or pride, even if unknowingly. Our pastor recently reminded us that no one totally evades the “fear of man” —that fear of being relationally and emotionally rejected. Countless artists write and sing about our desperate longing to be loved and accepted by others: “We all live and die through someone else’s eyes, that’s why we need to belong,” croons singer-songwriter Ben Rector. His song Wanna Be Loved posits that this hunger for acceptance is why we try to look a certain way, why we say funny things to get a laugh, and why we get our hearts broken. The lyrics are telling:
And every move leads right back to
Our need for acceptance, our fear of rejection,
Oh, a little love,
Yeah, that’s what we want.
Fear of man is the natural (albeit miserable) plight of people who have been separated from the ultimate source of love and security. It leads us to concoct all sorts of if/then hypotheticals in our heads: “If I could just lose twenty pounds, or get chosen for this team, or get that promotion, or be a part of their friend group, then I would feel good about myself. If I just had a significant other, or a bigger platform, or more success with my side-hustle, then I would feel secure. If these people invited me or those people complimented me, it would validate my worth.” Does the praise of man actually build self-confidence, or just feed an insatiable need for more and more human praise? Is self-confidence even what we need at all?
There’s a better antidote for our confidence problem, and it’s much more effective and attractive than self-confidence. I call it Christ-confidence. More than a cheesy, religious cliché, this is a life-transforming reality for those who have heard the good news of the gospel and placed their faith in Jesus Christ. The author of Hebrews spells it out for us:
Therefore, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he has opened for us through the curtain, that is through his flesh, and since we have a great high priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart, in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering. For he who promised is faithful (Hebrews 10:19-23).
Sin shattered human confidence. Our first parents, who once relished the presence of their Holy Creator, hid in fear and shame after they disobeyed. They were soon exiled from the garden. A cherubim with a flaming sword guarded the entrance and signaled the bitter reality: God’s children were no longer worthy to enter the proverbial “room” with confidence (Gen 3:24). God’s life-giving presence became a fearful place, his holiness the threat of death for sinners. Even when God dwelt with Israel in the wilderness, a gigantic curtain hung in the tabernacle to safely shield sinful people from his direct presence (Ex. 26:31-34). The high priest alone could draw near to God and only once a year after thorough cleansing. More cherubim, skillfully embroidered on this thick veil, signaled the same warning: Keep out. You are not acceptable, and you have no confidence to enter and be received.
This righteous rejection reverberates down through the ages into every human heart. Deep within, we all feel the insecurity of a reality we can’t name: We’ve been rightfully rejected by our Creator and King, so we frantically search for acceptance from everyone else. No amount of human validation is enough to make us eternally secure, though. And no amount of human love can grant us true confidence. The self-confidence we seek is a myth, a striving after the wind. And this is where the gospel meets us with good news.
As Jesus hung on the cross, he bore not only our sin, but also the shame, insecurity, and rejection that came with it. His closest friends turned their backs on him (a bitterly painful experience), but unfathomably worse than that, God turned his face away. The sinless son of God was exiled from his Father’s presence for our sin. Yet, when Jesus breathed his last, an incredible thing happened. That massive veil that guarded the entrance to God’s presence in the temple was torn from top to bottom—as if strong, invisible hands reached down and ripped it in two (Matt 27:51). The torn curtain signaled the new reality: All who trust in Jesus’ perfect sacrifice have restored access to God. And here’s the thing. Access equals acceptance. Because of Christ’s sacrifice, we have confidence to boldly enter God’s presence as those who are fully forgiven, loved, accepted, and approved by him.
The more we grasp the complete love and acceptance we have in Christ, the less we need it from other people. Christ-confidence enables us to walk into a room without fear because our security isn’t based on how great others perceive us to be; it’s based on our union with Jesus. Christ-confidence frees us to laugh at our quirks, admit our weaknesses, and face criticism or rejection from other people without being totally crushed. It empowers us to give love to those around us, rather than using them to fill our tank or grow our self-confidence. Christ-confident people radiate the beauty of genuine humility, self-forgetfulness, and a true interest in others. So rare and alluring, it draws people in and leads them to wonder, “What’s the secret, and where can I find it?” I daresay, there is no quality more attractive than Christ-confidence.
Lord, by your grace, make it true of me. True of us.
