Planted in the Love of God: Breaking Free from Performance Anxiety

I never thought I’d be that mom. I don’t even like baseball—but when my ten-year-old son steps onto the mound to pitch, my heart pounds and my soul shakes. I know he is loved unconditionally—as does he—but we both struggle with performance anxiety. He wants to do well. I don’t want him to experience shame or embarrassment. In those tense moments on the edge of my seat, all my theological training seems to fly out the window. Can he make it? Will it be enough?

With three sports-loving boys in the middle of multiple sports seasons, God is doing a deep and refining work on my own heart. I founded my identity for decades on besting (in all the things), and I find myself exposed once again. Old habits die hard. Generational sin patterns don’t just roll over. The performative identity that I thought was a long-dead stump has been sprouting new shoots—in me and my children.

Our culture loves bigger, faster, stronger, and better, and I spent many years cultivating a similar milieu in my own heart. It was not enough for me to be on a team; I had to be the captain. It was not enough for me to have academic success; I had to be valedictorian. Thankfully, the gospel’s incredibly good news of a received and completed identity in Christ set me on a different track. But, as my children now walk into worlds that pander to performative identity, I am finding that a root of performance still lives within me. Not only that—it has the potential to be passed along to my children as well. I long to see God do a deep work in me that bears the fruit of freedom—not only in my heart but also in the lives of those I’m raising.

Pulling Up Roots

Performative identities (whether in athletics or academic acumen) loudly promise power and prestige but quietly deliver paralysis. We chase (and often encourage our children to chase) scholarships, promotions, honor societies, and accolades, thinking they will provide a strong and secure foundation. However, in reality, any identity built upon performance is a house of cards—and our culture pays for it in record-high levels of anxiety and depression. The downside to accolades is angst over maintaining them. Once we’ve made the mark, we have to keep making the mark. Once we are at the top of the pack, we have to maintain the pace continually.

Activity and achievement are not wrong in and of themselves—after all, we want to work hard and glorify God as we cultivate the talents and opportunities he gives. But when these pursuits creep into the level of identity, they need to be rooted out and addressed. Even if our lips say, “Your deepest identity is that you are loved by God,” our lives can be undermining that same truth, sending our kids mixed signals. Whose standards are we striving after? What do we talk most about in our home? What fears keep us up at night? Is there an honor or accolade that we (or our kids) would be devastated to not receive or to lose? If so, it might be time to do some digging.

Planting the Truth

The incredible news of the gospel is that our lives are “hidden with Christ in God” (Col. 3:3). Through his life, death, and resurrection, Christ has done what all our efforts never could: he has opened a way to be in right relationship with the Father as adopted sons and daughters.[1] Christ secured the favor of the Father on our behalf. Now nothing can separate us from this love—because nothing we did earned it.[2]

The flesh, the world, and the Enemy of God constantly work to distract and distance us from these glorious realities. Thus, in order to be in this world but not of it, we have to continually fight to live out of our gospel identity. Daily, we need to remind ourselves and our children of the unshakeable foundation of who we are in Christ. We say with Paul, “I have been crucified with Christ. It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me. And the life I now live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me” (Gal. 2:20).

As we enter each new day in a world charged with performance anxiety, we remind ourselves and our children that it is “by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast” (Eph. 2:8-9).

Awaiting God’s Fruit

I know these right answers. Yet, my heart still quivers when a son is on the mound. I still battle anxiety when my kids head into try-outs or work towards a scholarship. Yet, God loves me enough to expose my deeply buried roots of idolatry and misplaced identity. He reminds me repeatedly that those who are extraordinarily loved don’t need to be extraordinary themselves.

One of these days, by God’s grace, performative environments won’t push and pull me. Worldly accomplishments will no longer tempt me when I’m face to face with Jesus and enjoying the eternal riches of heaven. Until then, I will be hiding in his finished work, repeatedly remembering the received identity we have been gifted at so great a cost.

Mangle the Stubborn Root

Mangle, Lord, mangle.
Mangle the stubborn root.
Smother, Lord, smother
Performance and its false fruit.

Dead, Lord, dead.
I thought that idol gone. 
See, Lord, see
In my children, it lives on.

Water, Lord, water,
Water the imperishable seed.
Deepen, Lord, deepen
Our rooted sense of need.

Grow us, Lord, grow us
To the full stature of sons.
Sustain us, Lord, sustain us
As your grace within us runs.

Harvest, Lord, harvest 
The fruit that you have grown.
Glory, Lord, glory!
May your glory be made known. 

[1] Galatians 4:1-7

[2] Romans 8:31-39