What's Tony Thinking

Wrangling Your Inner Critic

A couple years ago I went to a workshop, “For Those Who Have Daddy Issues (And Who Doesn’t?).” It was the words in the parenthesis that gave me permission to go. That parenthetical grace-note said it was okay to be there. That I wouldn’t be outing myself as a singular misanthrope, bringing shame on the family or betraying my father. “Daddy issues? Hey, welcome to the club!”

Something similar could be said about admitting that many (most? all?) of us struggle with an Inner Critic. The voice that says, “When are you going to get your act together? Get it right? Live up to your potential?” The voice that says, “Yeah, you’re playing a good game, but you and I know there is something deeply wrong with you.” Or, worst of all, “No one could ever really, truly, love you.”

Pastor Steve Cuss has a great piece in the Christianity Today magazine titled, “The False Gospel of Your Inner Critic.” Here’s Cuss:

“I have battled a low-grade feeling of stupidity my whole life and never outgrown it. Even as an adult, it doesn’t take much for me to feel stupid—and consequentially, exposed. Leading through a building project helped me get very familiar with my inner critic. (Are you familiar with yours?) I decided it was time to learn to wrangle it, so I began to pay close attention to its messages.

“Here are the statements it would tell me over and over: You should know better by now. You are stupid and everyone knows it. You are not worth being loved. You are not worth people’s time.

“It is quite arresting to read the message of my inner critic written plainly like that. If I don’t wrangle him, his words become like a stagnant pond in my soul, breeding and growing all manner of shame toxins. How can we learn to turn down the noise of our inner critic and hear what God has to say about us?”

What God has to say about us and what the Gospel promises are a 180 from our relentless inner critic. God says, “I have called you by name, you are mine.” “Your name is ‘Beloved.'” “Nothing can separate us.” “There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus.” “I forgive you all your sins.” “I love you.” I go to church to hear those words, those promises, those truths.

I’m taking an art class these days from my wonderful teacher, Kathleen. Early on in the first class Kathleen had all seven of us raise our right hand and solemnly pledge, “I will not say, ‘I can’t paint’ or ‘I’m no artist.’ I will not criticize my paintings, say they are awful or terrible or hopeless. I am doing art, I can paint. I am learning. I’m here to have fun.” Or something about like that.

As a veteran art teacher, Kathleen knows that we are our own worst critic. And that if we are going to wield a brush against a blank canvas it is a great act of courage that requires some effort to tell our own chorus of inner critics to “shut up and stand down.” That said, the pledge is only partially effective. As I listen to my fellow students, and myself, muttering and damning, pledging to not do so doesn’t eliminate it. But she has made a point. We all have an inner critic that can shut us down. Be aware and go easy on yourself.

Cuss says that it may be helpful to write down what our inner critic is saying to us. There in black and white, we can see how mean our IC is, and generally how out of touch with reality he/ she is.

Cuss also notes that most of the regnant “gospels,” i.e. life systems promising fame and fortune or at least safety and security, to which we pay attention demand that we pay a big price if we’re every going to get the reward (which remains oddly elusive, always just a little further down the road, requiring one more achievement, merit badge, or acclamation). He contrasts the Gospel of Jesus Christ with the “gospels” of this world:

“In every gospel except one,” observes Cuss, “the humans do the paying and the “gods” get the benefit. If we look back at ancient Rome, we see that the people did all the paying and Caesar got all the benefit.” The same can be said for any secular god of success, wealth or achievement.

Every gospel but one.

More from Cuss:

“Because the gospel of Jesus Christ is true, because God is who he says he is, and because I am who he says I am, I orient my life around his Word first. When my inner critic speaks up, I let him run his mouth for a while, but once he’s done, I read God’s Word as the last word.

“I tried to fire my inner critic once,” writes Cuss, “but he still showed up to work the next day. He’s not going anywhere. I cannot eliminate his words, but I can contain them so he no longer gets the last word.”

As in my painting class, we may not — right hand raised, pledge spoken — be able to fire our inner critic or effect our own liberty by our own will power, but we can get a handle on him and maybe tell him to take the afternoon off. “I cannot eliminate his words, but I can contain them so he no longer gets the last word,” wrote Cuss.

Our God is the one who gets, and insists on, the last word.