Projection

You’re probably wondering why I titled this Projection. The truth is, I was in a conversation earlier this week with another leader, and we started talking about the next generation and the importance of addressing the internal issues that often lead to projection. My wife overheard it and said, “That should definitely be your next Echo.” So, here we are. Keep reading.

So often, we move through life looking at people and situations through the lens of our own internal struggles. Through wounds we haven’t healed. Through words that were spoken over us that we may have misunderstood. Through experiences we haven’t fully processed and questions we haven’t yet resolved in our limited, human way of thinking. And without even realizing it, we don’t just see others as they are—we often see them as we are.

Projection, as we know it, is a defense mechanism where a person unconsciously places their own feelings, thoughts, or motives onto someone else. Someone carrying unresolved anger may accuse others of being angry. Someone struggling with insecurity may assume everyone else is judging them. Even someone with a controlling nature, when challenged, might automatically assume that those in authority don’t trust their judgment or are trying to control them.

Projection is what happens when we misplace responsibility for our internal struggles and put them onto the people around us. We’re unconsciously seeing our issues in them instead of facing them within ourselves. Sometimes it feels safer to label it on someone else than to let God actually heal it in us. And in some situations, we internalize what’s been said or done to us, making it part of how we see ourselves.

I think back to a time when I was leading worship and felt led to pause and share what was on my heart. Afterward, I received feedback that was meant to be constructive, given to help me steward moments better. In their honest and humble effort, the only thing I walked away hearing was, “Don’t talk—just sing.”

Ouch. But I knew the intent wasn’t to hurt me. If you knew this person, you’d understand their heart. 

The feedback wasn’t meant to limit me, it was meant to lift pressure. As a young leader, I felt the need to do more, all while missing moments to truly steward what I was already stewarding. The feedback also came with this encouragement: “You don’t have to strive. Just be. Don’t carry the pressure for something you’re already doing well.” My leader was calling me up in my ability to communicate. It was an invitation to grow. An invitation to be sharpened, not forced. I learned that I was in process, and still am. And in that, I was reminded that sometimes less is more. You can still lead well without carrying unnecessary pressure.

I can laugh at it now, but at the time, that one line, “Don’t talk—just sing”, really messed me up more than I realized. But time, maturity and surrender have shown me that I’ve missed the larger context of the message.

I’ve shared this before, in a later season of my leadership, during a moment of vulnerability, speaking on the importance of releasing the words that have been spoken over us. It ended up being powerful and healing for many. But it wasn’t until recently—in a quiet moment with God—that He showed me where I needed to heal and revealed the truth of how it actually went. Sometimes we have to allow Him into our moments of self-reflection, allowing Him to point out the areas we haven’t dealt with and to be honest with ourselves.

For a long time, I only heard one thing and that became the narrative I believed. That’s no longer my story, because I’ve fully surrendered it, and I know who I am becoming in Him.

If I’m honest, I was in fact striving without realizing it, and I received the feedback through the filter of my own insecurity. I listened to the wrong voice, and my insecurity grew. Out of everything that was said to empower me, that one line became the loudest echo in my head.

I began to internalize it as: I’m not good enough. I’m not smart enough. What I have to say isn’t valued—only my singing voice is. So I started to hide even more behind my singing. I only spoke when spoken to. I held back on what I shared and how often I shared it. I began to overthink what I needed to communicate or how I needed to say it.

Looking back, because of the way I responded to that moment, it hindered other opportunities to use my voice outside of singing. It wasn’t until recent years that I’ve come to accept that I am an imperfect person on a learning journey. And that every opportunity is an opportunity to grow. When you embrace that, you become more teachable, and you can receive the hard lessons that are actually meant to sharpen you.

I don’t always get this right, but the same grace I receive is the same grace I need to extend. We’re all on a learning journey, doing the best we can with what we know. Could that line have been communicated more thoughtfully? Sure. But in the grander scheme, that wasn’t the takeaway. It was an opportunity for me to prepare with precision where I was weak and continue striding where I was strong. In the moment, that one line was the best way to convey it with the time available. 

As I was having this conversation this week, I was reminded of the scripture when Jesus says, “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother’s eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?” -Matthew 7:3. That’s how unhealed places in us can quietly distort our perception.

So now, this is how I step into every moment. When I find myself questioning motives, I don’t start by asking, “How does this make me feel?” I ask the Lord, “what are You trying to show me?” Or “what are You trying to heal?” Listen, we don’t identify with our emotions. We identify as Children of God. And I have to remind myself of that, often. This posture keeps me from reacting through old filters and inviting God to search my heart before I assign motives to someone else.

David prayed it like this, “Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts! And see if there be any grievous way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting”, Psalm 139:23–24. That’s the prayer that breaks projection. That posture leads to healing.

When we let God deal with what’s in us, we stop putting it on others. We stop carrying old narratives. We stop letting past words define our present identity. And we start walking in the freedom of who He says we are.

I know this was a longer write, but it took time to truly process all of this. And sometimes, we need the space to search our hearts through honest reflection and conversation so we can receive the healing that’s already available to us. So before we label someone, let’s ask God to examine us. Before we assume, may we invite Him to heal us. And before we project our pain, let’s surrender it. Listen for His echoes between the lines. That’s how we grow. That’s how we heal. And that’s how we learn to see others, not through our wounds, but through how He sees.