July in Colorado is something sacred. The skies feel wider, the sun a little bolder, and everything seems to shimmer with the invitation of new beginnings.

And yet this week, while creation speaks of beauty and life, my heart carries a deep and aching heaviness. Like many of you, I’ve been grieving the heartbreaking loss of life in Texas. The weight of such tragedy settles into our bones. It’s the kind of sorrow that doesn’t ask for quick answers—only presence, compassion, and lament.

Still, even in the ache, God has not stopped speaking.

A few days ago, I watched two baby fawns nurse just outside my office window—tucked at the breast of their mother, unaware of the brokenness we carry. That tender moment reminded me that gentleness still exists in this world. That life still stirs quietly in hidden places. That the sacred often shows up in silence.

Then, on the Fourth of July, while driving north on I-25, I looked up just as the Blue Angels thundered overhead. Their formation is flawless. Their flight is bold and free. It was breathtaking. And somehow, it paired perfectly with the softness of the fawns—power and tenderness held in the same week, the same sky, the same soul.

All of these moments asked me to pause.

To pay attention.
To feel.
To ask.

What does it look like to live and love with that kind of freedom?
The freedom to be bold, to cry, and the freedom to be still or celebrate.
To show up in truth, whether mourning or rejoicing.

To learn to love well without shrinking. To learn to give without disappearing. Our God is in it all. It is a complex life we lead.

Today’s Question:

How Do I Know When My Love Is Christ-Like, And When It’s Coming from Fear or a Need to Be Accepted?

Thank you for this question. It comes up often, in my own heart, and in the hearts of the women I coach. Many of us have been taught that love looks like selflessness, sacrifice, and service. And in many ways, that’s true. But what happens when that service starts to erase us? What happens when our love becomes a tool to avoid rejection, gain approval, or keep the peace at all costs?

Sometimes our love isn’t love at all, it’s fear in disguise.

• If I do enough, they’ll stay.
• If I keep giving, maybe they’ll finally see me.
• If I don’t say no, I won’t lose them.

This friend is the exhausting loop of people-pleasing. It often looks kind on the outside, but it can leave us feeling resentful, used, and invisible. That’s not what Jesus meant when He said, “Love one another.”

The apostle Paul makes this distinction so clearly:

“Our purpose is to please God, not people. He alone examines the motives of our hearts.”
1 Thessalonians 2:4b (NLT)

True love, Christ-like love, isn’t driven by fear. It’s grounded in truth. It doesn’t ignore your needs, silence your voice, or cost you your God-given identity.

Christ-like love is strong and rooted. It flows from a heart that knows it’s already loved by God, not one striving to be worthy of someone else’s affection.

• It’s generous, but not grasping.
• It’s sacrificial, but never self-erasing.
• It offers a yes with joy and a no without guilt.
• It draws close in compassion, and steps back and leans in when truth is needed. Christ-like love does both.
• Jesus loved fiercely, but it didn’t mean he didn’t say no or walk away when people tried to control him. He said hard things in love. He allowed people to leave.

“Am I now trying to win the approval of people, or of God? If I were trying to please people, I would not be Christ’s servant.”
—Galatians 1:10 (NLT)

So how do you know if your love is Christ-like or driven by fear?

Start here:

• Does this love flow from peace, or pressure?
  Peace-based love feels like a deep exhale. You’re not hustling for worth—you’re offering care from security.
  Pressure-based love feels like walking on eggshells. You’re managing other people’s emotions or approval with your sacrifice.
• Am I giving from fullness, or from fear of rejection?
  Fullness-based giving overflows. You’re not keeping score. You’re not hoping it finally earns you a place.
  Fear-based giving is strategic. It’s survival. It’s trying to protect yourself from the sting of being left out, unseen, or unloved.
• Is this rooted in my identity in Christ, or in someone else’s expectations of me?

Anchor this in Scripture:
“Let each one give as he purposes in his heart, not grudgingly or of necessity; for God loves a cheerful giver.”
—2 Corinthians 9:7 (NKJV)

“The fear of man is a snare, but the one who trusts in the Lord is kept safe.”
—Proverbs 29:25 (NIV)

When our giving costs our voice, our rest, our safety, or our God-given worth, it’s not love. It’s a signal. A whisper from the Spirit to come back to center, to be held, to be healed.

You can be loving without always being available.

You can be kind without being silent.

You can serve without sacrificing your soul.

Let this truth sink deep:

Jesus never asked you to disappear to prove your love.

He already proved His love for you, completely, at the Cross.

A Prayer for the Pleaser

Lord, help me to love like You, freely, boldly, and without fear.

Help me recognize when I’m serving from fullness, and when I’m striving to earn what You’ve already given me.

Teach me to trust Your approval above all others.

In Jesus Holy Name,

Amen.

Reflection Question:

Have you ever noticed yourself giving out of fear of rejection rather than the freedom of love? What helps you return to truth and rest in God’s approval over human applause?

If you find yourself loving from fear, you can learn how to move beyond this during our six week flexible coaching program this summer. It starts next week. For more information click here…