Who's Really Writing Your Story?

Here's a truth worth sitting with: Even the best stories can be ruined if the wrong person controls the script.

We've all experienced this. Someone tells us a story that meanders without purpose, leaving us wondering why we just spent five minutes listening. Then someone else tells the exact same story and we're captivated, leaning in for more. The story didn't change. The storyteller did.

What if this same dynamic plays out in our lives? What if our stories struggle not because they lack potential, but because we've handed the pen to the wrong author?

When Critics Try to Write Your Chapters

In 1 Samuel 17, we encounter one of history's most famous underdog stories: David versus Goliath. But before David ever faced the giant, he fought a different battle—one against people trying to control the narrative of his life.

The struggle began early. When the prophet Samuel came to anoint Israel's next king, David's own father didn't even bother calling him in from the fields. Seven sons paraded before Samuel, and only when God rejected them all did anyone think to mention the youngest boy tending sheep.

The message was clear: *He's just a boy. He doesn't measure up.*

Later, when David arrived at the battlefield and volunteered to fight Goliath, his oldest brother Eliab erupted: "What are you doing around here anyway? What about those few sheep you're supposed to be taking care of? I know about your pride and deceit. You just want to see the battle!"

Sound familiar?

The moment you decide to face your giants and step into your purpose, the voice of criticism often grows loudest. People who should be cheering you on start questioning your efforts. Maybe you've committed to spiritual growth, decided to break free from an addiction, or taken a risk toward the life God's calling you toward—and instead of support, you received skepticism.

Why do critics exist? Often for these reasons:

**They need to fight the same giant but aren't willing.** Your willingness to fight exposes their fear. If you lose weight, get out of debt, or kick the addiction, it eliminates their excuse.

**They're insecure.** They feel stronger when you're weak. As long as you have a problem, they can feel superior.

**They're jealous.** They don't know where they're going, so they resent that you're moving forward. They don't want you free because they're not free.

The Dangerous Game of Comparison

When King Saul finally agreed to let David fight Goliath, he did something revealing: "Then Saul gave David his own armor—a bronze helmet and a coat of mail. David put it on, strapped the sword over it, and took a step or two to see what it was like, for he had never worn such things before."

The critic's most powerful weapon is the comparison game: *For your story to matter, it has to look like someone else's.*

In a classic psychology experiment, researcher Solomon Asch asked people to judge which lines were the same length. When tested individually, people answered correctly. But when placed in a group where everyone else deliberately gave wrong answers, one-third of participants went along with the crowd despite what their eyes told them.

We think we're immune to this pressure, but how often does the crowd dictate our decisions? How often do we measure ourselves against someone else's journey and find ourselves lacking?

The trap is believing that if we just looked more like them, acted more like them, had what they have, *then* God could really use us. We try to face our giants while wearing someone else's armor.

But here's the truth: **You can never be who God designed you to be if you're constantly trying to be someone else.**

God cannot bless who you pretend to be.

Embracing What You Actually Have

David's response to Saul's armor is instructive: "I can't go in these. I'm not used to them." So he took them off. Instead, "He picked up five smooth stones from a stream and put them into his shepherd's bag. Then, armed only with his shepherd's staff and sling, he started across the valley to fight the Philistine."

David reminds us that **just because something's missing doesn't mean you have to function as incomplete.**

We convince ourselves that God could never use us because we don't have what someone else does. We're not as qualified, not as talented, not as experienced. But the more we focus on what's missing, the more we fail to see what's actually there.

When Diana Nyad was nine years old, she asked her mother where Cuba was. Her mother pointed to the horizon: "It's right over there. You could almost swim there." Twenty years later, Diana attempted to become the first person to swim the Straits of Florida without a shark cage. She failed. She tried again at sixty years old. Failed. Tried a third time. Failed. A fourth time. Failed.

At sixty-four years old, after 53 hours and 110 miles, she finally succeeded.

How? Partly because of something her father told her on her fifth birthday. He showed her the dictionary definition of her name: "Nyad—the nymphs that swam in the lakes and oceans to protect the waters for the gods. A girl or woman champion swimmer. Darling, this is your destiny."

His voice became the narrative for her identity.

Whose Voice Are You Listening To?

David may have been overlooked by his earthly father, but that day Samuel anointed him, he received a message from his Heavenly Father. He could walk onto the battlefield not based on what a king or brother said, but on the confidence of what God had spoken.

The same is true for you.

Your Heavenly Father hasn't just offered forgiveness or freedom from guilt. He's called you son. Daughter. He's given you His Spirit—His power working in you, equipping you for every giant you'll ever face.

Who controls the script of your life? The voice of criticism? The voice of comparison? Or the voice of your Heavenly Father?

It's time to take off someone else's armor. It's time to become who God created you to be. Your story is too important to let the wrong person drive.