SELF-IMPROVEMENT

The Day I Chose “Foolishness”

An Identity Beyond Achievements

Photo by Chermiti Mohamed on Unsplash

Do you live each day throwing caution to the wind?

Do you take ups and downs in stride, believing that things will fall into place?

It sounds easy. It even sounds brave. We all long for that kind of freedom — carefree, content, unshaken by circumstances.

But is that living — or drifting? Is a life without fixed goals, a life without purpose? Does living this way make us less diligent, less focused, less worthy?

The truth is, we want certainty. We crave a destination. And when we don’t have it all figured out, we fear others will see us as weak.

The Choice That Defied Expectations

The day I walked away from my well-paying job to focus on family, I remember the shock it caused — I had just been promoted and was climbing fast up the corporate ladder.

On paper, everything about my life screamed “success.” By every worldly measure, I was on the rise.

But my days were long, the commute draining, and my family was getting what was left of me, not the best of me.

So I stepped away.

And that’s when the comments came. Relatives, especially the “all-knowing” aunts, shook their heads and were quick to say, “Such a waste. Who leaves stability in times like these?”

To them, I had chosen recklessness over responsibility.

The irony? They had never worked outside their homes, but they believed my worth was tied to a fat paycheck, a fancy title, and the steady upward march of visible achievement.

Culture often says the same. Across the world, we equate success with money, position, and progress.

But where in that equation is patience? Where is forgiveness? Where is love?

Where True Identity Is Found

We chase professional upgrades, yet neglect upgrades of the heart.

We don’t ask: Am I kinder today than yesterday? Am I more humble, more generous, more patient? Am I practising forgiveness?

Rather, we measure success by what others can see. Promotions. Houses. Cars. Achievements.

When the same trials visit us again, they unveil blind spots of the heart. God lets them surface so we can be tested, refined, and taught.

We grow when we choose to see and learn.

At first, when my relatives questioned me, my blood boiled. I felt defensive, because their words stirred doubt: Had I done something foolish? Had I thrown it all away? Was my job my identity?

For a long time, I fought for approval. I justified myself, promising I’d return to work when my son was older. But slowly, God turned my heart.

He whispered: Your identity is not in your job, your goals, or your achievements. Your identity is in Me.

This truth unravelled the chains of striving, and something inside me broke free. I didn’t need to justify myself anymore.

Patience replaced anger. Peace quieted the turmoil.

James writes: “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.” (James 1:19)

That verse became a mirror. Our worth isn’t defined by worldly approval but by the fruit we bear within.

Success That Doesn’t Feed the Soul

Work hard. Do your best. But let’s not be deceived: a career, a house, a lifestyle — even a perfect family photo — cannot define success.

Those things please the eye. They impress others. But they do nothing for the soul.

The soul grows through mercy. Through the quiet acts of kindness. Through the unseen choice to forgive. Through patience in the face of delay.

Yet mercy is often missing — from how we treat others, and especially from how we treat ourselves.

We set impossible standards. We drive ourselves without rest. And when we stumble, we call ourselves failures.

But Jesus gave us a different standard.

“Go and Do Likewise”

A lawyer once tested Jesus with a question: “Teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?” (Luke 10:25)

Jesus pointed him back to the law: Love God with all your heart, soul, strength, and mind, and love your neighbor as yourself. (Luke 10:27)

But the lawyer pressed further: “And who is my neighbor?” (Luke 10.29)

In response, Jesus shared the parable of the “Good Samaritan”.

A man — brutally beaten — was left for dead by the roadside. Two religious men — respected, accomplished, outwardly successful — walked past without stopping.

Though despised in that society, a Samaritan stopped and showed compassion. He bandaged wounds, gave his time, spent his resources, and carried the man to safety.

“Which of these three,” Jesus asked, “proved to be a neighbor?” (Luke 10.36)

The lawyer said, “The one who showed mercy on him.” And Jesus said to him, “Go and do likewise.” — (Luke 10:37)

We read this story as a call to show mercy outward to others. And it is. But what about inward? What about when the person left beaten by the road is you?

Mercy Starts at Home

When we deny ourselves mercy, we end up pushing too hard, striving too far, and overcompensating for our own unforgiving standards.

We forget patience when progress is slow. We forget compassion when mistakes pile up.

Our striving blinds us. We cling to goals — driven by time, by comparison, by deadlines, by the heavy weight of others’ opinions. But mercy — toward ourselves and others — loosens the grip.

Mercy is not weakness. Mercy is the very nature of God.

“The Lord, the Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness, keeping steadfast love for thousands, forgiving iniquity and transgression and sin” — (Exodus 34.6–7)

If God pours out mercy and grace on us, why do we deny our own hearts the same compassion?

But Jesus says: “The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit.” (John 3:8)

To live with mercy is to loosen control. It means letting God guide you.

This doesn’t mean abandoning diligence. It means anchoring diligence in grace, not pressure. It means that when plans shift, we do not collapse.

When others surge ahead, we are not undone. When failure comes, we do not condemn ourselves — but rise yet again in God’s strength.

A Better Goal

At life’s end, God will not count your promotions, measure your titles, or tally who envied your success.

He will look at your heart.

Did you love Him? Did you show mercy?

That is the fruit of a life well-lived.

It is far more important to become a better person than a bigger success.

Show yourself mercy. Forgive yourself as God forgives you. Walk gently with your soul. Then extend that same mercy outward.

Because success may impress the world, but only mercy will transform it.

I have always found that mercy bears richer fruits than strict justice. — Abraham Lincoln