People used to tell me I was gifted.
I heard it everywhere growing up. My teachers said it when I finished my work early. My family said it when I brought home good grades. My church youth group leaders said it when I sang on the worship team. My friends said it when I showed them a new song I wrote. It became part of who I thought I was – gifted.
And I liked it.
Until I didn’t.
Because here’s the thing no one tells you about being “gifted”: it sets you up to chase your own glory instead of God’s. And that’s a chase that always leaves you empty handed.
If you’ve ever been labeled something – even something that seems positive – you know that it can eventually feel like a burden.
The longer I carried the “gifted” label, the more I felt I had to keep proving it. Every test I took, every paper I wrote, every time I stepped on stage to sing…every opportunity became a chance to either live up to the label or let everyone down.
And deep down, I was terrified that one day I’d stop being impressive…and then who would I be?
What I didn’t realize was that I had turned the gift into an idol. I thought my worth came from what I could do, not who I was in Christ.
Eventually, I burned out. The same abilities that once brought me praise now made me tired. I kept striving to be the best at everything and worthy of the “gifted” title…and it never felt like enough.
That’s when God interrupted my striving with a simple but life-changing truth:
My gifts weren’t meant to make me great; they were meant to make God known.
I had been using my talents to build my own name, not his. I had been seeking validation, not purpose.
Romans 12:6 says, “We have different gifts, according to the grace given to each of us.”
That verse hit me like a reset button. My gifts aren’t proof of my value – they are grace, not things I’ve earned. They are tools of service, gifts from a gracious God who invites me to use them for his glory, not my own.
I started asking a new question. Instead of, “How can I use this to stand out?” I began asking, “How can I use this to serve?”
The moment I stopped clinging to my identity as a “gifted person” and started seeing myself as a gifted servant, everything changed. The pressure lifted. The comparison faded. I didn’t have to be impressive; I simply had to be willing and available to use what God had given me to point back to him.
God’s greatest gift isn’t creativity, intelligence, talent or even opportunity; it’s purpose. The chance to join him in his work of redeeming and restoring people to himself; to participate in something eternal.
And that’s the beautiful paradox: the more we surrender our gifts back to him, the more meaningful they become.
The real joy isn’t in being called “gifted.” It’s in being called.
I’m still grateful for the talents God gave me. But I’ve learned to hold them loosely and not put my value or identity in them. Because being “gifted” doesn’t make me special. It makes me responsible.
Responsible to love people more than my image.
To serve more than I strive.
To point to the giver, not the gift.
Because being “gifted” isn’t what makes me special. Being his does.
And the real gift isn’t what you can do. It’s who you get to do it for.