For five decades, He has sustained and built this ministry, guiding, providing, and transforming lives through the power of Jesus Christ. We are deeply grateful for the many leaders, individuals, and families who have been part of that story. Every changed life and every life supported is a testimony to His kindness and His truth at work among us.

This anniversary invites us to reflect with gratitude and to look ahead with intention, asking the Lord to lead us clearly into what is next.

After two significant victories, the people of Israel were approached by travelers who claimed to have come from a distant land. Their story seemed convincing. Their bread was dry and moldy, and their clothing appeared aged from a long journey. Everything seemed to confirm their story. According to Scripture, God’s people were deceived because they only examined the evidence and looked at what seemed reasonable, but they did not inquire of the Lord (Joshua 9).  As a result, they entered into a covenant that brought hardship for generations to come, all because they did not turn to the Lord.

This kind of seeking is often slower than we expect. It happens as we return to the Lord again and again in prayer, as we listen together, and as we make room for Him to lead us. It calls us to slow our pace, resist the pressure to decide too quickly, and trust that His direction is worth waiting for.

I find myself less interested in mapping out five- or ten-year plans; I’d rather us have a clear sense of the Lord’s leading. We’re becoming more committed to seeking Him faithfully for each step ahead.

That has meant slowing decisions, revisiting them in prayer, and seeking the Lord not only individually but together as a staff and leadership team. We are giving careful attention to wise counsel, allowing time for clarity to develop, and resisting the urgency to move just because something appears right in our view. This kind of attentiveness is shaping how we approach what lies ahead.

In 1 Kings 12, we find another cautionary account. Rehoboam stands at a pivotal moment in his leadership and seeks counsel from the elders who had advised his father. They understood the weight of the decision before him and offered wise guidance. He also consulted his peers. In the end, he rejected the counsel of the elders and followed the advice that aligned with his instincts and his friends. The outcome was costly.

It is too easy to rely on what seems wise in the moment—on knowledge, experience, or even strong conviction. I often feel that pull myself. Those things matter, but they are not enough on their own. I want to continue growing as someone who seeks the Lord, listens carefully, and receives counsel with humility.

As a ministry, we are committed to that same posture as we make decisions and look ahead. We want to be people who seek the Lord together, who listen well, and who move forward with humility and clarity as He leads.

We are considering how to serve the next generation with clarity and compassion while also honoring the faithfulness and strength of those who have carried this ministry for many years. We are asking the Lord how the shape of our ministry may continue to grow and adapt so that we remain faithful to our calling in the years ahead.

We are committed to continuing to listen carefully, move thoughtfully, and trust Him to lead us.

As we mark this milestone year, our desire is simple: to remain a people who depend on Him.

Would you join us in praying for wisdom, unity, and clear direction as we take these next steps?

Over the years, much of our public communication has focused on explaining who we are, what we believe, and where we stand. That work has been important. In a culture where repentance is often dismissed, where sexual behavior is increasingly treated as identity, and where the church has at times struggled to speak clearly and compassionately, it has mattered to name truth with conviction. We have believed, and still believe, that healing is not found in a method, but in a Person—Jesus Christ.

At the same time, the people we want to reach are changing. Many in the younger generations carry real anxiety, relational hesitation, and uncertainty about face-to-face engagement. Some have little church experience, while others have been wounded by it. Many are exploring spirituality without a clear foundation in the gospel. This is a challenge every generation faces: how to carry the enduring truth of the gospel in ways people can truly receive. We do not claim to have all the answers, but we are asking the Lord to guide us.

That is why our new website (soon to be live) and updated public language matter. We remain a robust resource of articles, testimonies, and position papers. That part of our ministry is not going away. But the way these resources are presented is changing. We are shaping a softer on-ramp, using warmer language, and placing less emphasis on defending our existence. We want our public presence to feel more invitational and clearly centered on ministry, compassion, and help.

We are not stepping away from biblical conviction. We are seeking to communicate that conviction in ways that are more accessible to those who need it most. This includes removing some overtly political language and reducing language that was once necessary to defend our place. We want people with questions to feel welcomed immediately. Our old tone sometimes kept distance with warnings and pushback; now we’re aiming for the kind of place that says, “Bring your whole story here and we’ll meet you with compassion and truth.”

We are also making important changes internally. In our groups and intake process, we are moving away from self-assessments and toward a more intentional process of discipling identity through Scripture and the indwelling Spirit of God. We want people to encounter more than information or categories. We want them to encounter formation. Our desire is to help people understand who they are in Christ and to walk with them patiently as that truth takes root.

We are grateful for what God has built through so many years of ministry. By His grace, that work has given us a strong foundation to serve from. As we continue to build on that foundation, we ask for your prayers that we would speak with clarity, lead with compassion, and faithfully point people to the freedom and cleansing found in Jesus Christ.

Empathy, rightly understood, reflects the heart of the Father. We see this clearly in Jesus. He met the woman caught in adultery with both compassion and truth. He engaged the woman at the well with kindness that exposed her deeper realities. He touched the lepers, healed the broken, and wept over Jerusalem, longing to gather His people.

Jesus embodies empathy by the mere fabric of His life, which we seek after.

But His empathy never led Him to affirm what was contrary to His Father’s will. It always led people toward truth, freedom, and restoration.

Over the past several decades, a significant shift has occurred. Empathy, for many, is no longer about understanding someone’s experience. At times, it gets reshaped into something that demands agreement. The simple “I see you” can turn into “I must validate you.”

When empathy is redefined this way, it starts to take people in a different direction. What starts as understanding becomes agreement, then tolerance, and eventually permissiveness.

I’ve watched this happen over time. People who once held firmly to what they believe the Scripture teaches, have felt the pressure to walk it back. Not always because they stopped believing it was true, but because they didn’t want to be seen as unloving. Accusations, cultural pressure, and painful personal situations have a way of pressing on the heart. Over time, that pressure can cause people to question what they once knew.

These situations are rarely simple. They are often filled with love, fear, misunderstanding, and a deep desire on all sides to be seen and known. Recently, I spoke with a mother who told me she felt tormented. Her daughter, who was once gay and now identifies as a man, told her she would take her own life if her mother didn’t affirm her identity. This is where things become deeply conflicting and painful. What her daughter is asking for begins to function as pressure, and that pressure settles into the heart of a parent who sincerely wants to love well. The demand itself becomes coercive, even though it is framed as a desire for compassion and understanding. Saying this does not mean that someone’s pain isn’t real or that their experience should be dismissed. It simply means we have to be honest about the weight these expectations can carry in relationships.

We have to be honest about what is happening.

Scripture gives us language for this. For instance, in Romans 1, Paul describes what happens when truth is suppressed. It doesn’t happen all at once. It begins with a shift, a willingness to set something aside. Over time, what was once clear becomes questioned, and what was once questioned becomes affirmed.

This is not just something “out there” in the culture. This is something we all have to wrestle with. I’m reminded of Aaron in Exodus 32. The people grew restless. Moses was gone. Fear and uncertainty gripped them. They demanded gods to lead them. Aaron didn’t stand firm. He yielded to the pressure and helped fashion the golden calf.

This came from weakness, not strength.

And it led to destruction.

That story lingers because it forces a hard question: Are we, in our desire to love well, yielding to pressures that harm the people we care about?

Are we saying yes to things we know are not true because we feel the weight of being seen as unloving if we don’t? It’s not a simple place to stand, especially when it involves our children, our family, or people we deeply care about.

Scripture does not leave us without guidance. In 1 Corinthians 13, we are told that love “does not rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoices in the truth.” That means love and truth are not in competition with each other. They belong together.

So, what does that look like in real life?

I think it sounds something like this:

“I see you.”
“You matter.”
“I care deeply about you.”
“And because I love you enough to always be a person of truth, I cannot step outside of what God has said.”

That kind of love is not easy. It doesn’t remove the tension. It doesn’t always resolve the relationship the way we hope it will. But it keeps us anchored in Christ.

God has not asked us to choose between truth and love. He has called us to live and walk in both.

I am still learning what that looks like, and I know I don’t always get it right. I am still asking the Lord how to love people well without stepping outside of His truth. I don’t have every answer, but I do know this:

Empathy, when it is separated from truth, does not lead where we hope it will.

But when it is anchored in truth, it can point people to Jesus, who is full of grace, mercy and truth.

Inside this Edition

Articles & Reading

• Inquiring of the Lord

• Holding Love and Truth When It's Challenging

• What is Changing, and Why

• Mission Statement

Notices

• Updated Website Launching April 30th, 2026

Events & Groups

• Husband Material's Same-Sex Connection™ Seminar | Online | May 30, 2026

• RHN HOPE Conference | Colorado Springs, CO | June 12-13, 2026

• Quarterly Prayer Meetings for FSM | Dates set for 2026

• Summer Group - Colossians Study | June 23 - August 11, 2026

• Be Steadfast Parents Groups | Online and In-Person

• Living Free Discipleship Program | September 29, 2026

Inside this Edition

Articles & Reading

• The Morning Jesus Declared His Mission: A Reflection for Advent
• When Holidays Hurt: Dr. Townsend on Grieving Well
• Faltering Faith—The Ongoing Call to Follow God
• Year End Donations & 2025 Contribution Statements

Events & Groups

• The Porn Free Man | Free Online Conference | January 9-10, 2026
• RHN HOPE Conference | Colorado Springs, CO | June 12-13, 2026
• FSM turns 50 in 2026! Donations appreciated!
• Quarterly Prayer Meetings for FSM | Dates set for 2026
• Be Steadfast Parents Groups - Online and In-Person
• Living Free Discipleship Program - September 29, 2026

The synagogue was simple and spacious, familiar in every way. Dust hung in the sunlight streaming through the windows. Jesus took His place and watched people enter. He had known most since childhood. Here He’d learned Scripture and worshiped beside His neighbors. As they filed in, He felt His Father’s heart for them and prayed for them.

Nothing about this Sabbath suggested it would be different. It was simply Jesus’ turn to read.

The conversations quieted as they stood together, robes rustling, to recite the Shema: ‘Hear, O Israel, the Lord our God, the Lord is one.’ Their voices rose in prayer, carrying words they knew by heart, words of thanks, petitions for mercy, and remembrance of God’s promises.

Next came the Torah. A man Jesus visited often stood and cleared his throat to read the portion assigned for this Sabbath.

Then came the reading from the Prophets. The attendant brought out the large scroll of Isaiah from the cabinet and placed it in Jesus’ hands. He unrolled the crackling parchment carefully, knowing where to find the passage He intended to read—Isaiah 61.

He read aloud: “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me …”

Ah, yes. These words. They loved Isaiah and hearing the promise of their coming restoration. Someone would be raised up by God. Perhaps another judge, a king, a deliverer who would finally bring comfort to their shared pain. Yes, they loved the hope of Isaiah.

Jesus continued: “…to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor…”

Then Jesus rolled up the scroll with a soft crackle and returned it to the attendant. He sat down, and every eye in the synagogue settled on Him, waiting for the teaching to come.

“Today,” He began, “this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

They marveled at His gracious words, recognizing the beauty and authority with which He spoke. In their wonder, they saw only what they had always seen—Joseph’s son, a local man—but His words pressed beyond their expectations. He was declaring something, and they felt the weight of it. Was restoration here? Our promises, fulfilled? Was He saying He was the fulfillment?

This moment in Nazareth reveals to us how easily we, too, can miss the nearness of God when it comes in familiar places. It calls us to look again, to listen again, and to open our hearts to the Messiah who still speaks and fulfills His promises in ways we do not expect.

Through Advent, we pause to reflect on moments like this, allowing Jesus to draw our attention elsewhere. In that synagogue, He declared His mission through Isaiah, giving us a truer focus for Christmas.

This is the mission He claimed that day. He came in the fullness of the Holy Spirit to bring good news, to bind up wounded hearts, to proclaim freedom, and to open doors long closed. This is the mission He entrusts to His people. His disciples carried it, and those after them did as well. At First Stone Ministries, we glimpse this restoration every day. We sit with those who carry sorrow or confusion and watch the Lord bring comfort. We walk with individuals longing for freedom and witness Christ open what has been shut for years. We do not heal or rescue, but He does. We join Him as He brings hope, dignity, and restoration to those who turn toward Him.

Those who serve in this work often find Isaiah’s words resonating in their own lives. We are not distant helpers but fellow travelers who have known God’s comfort, His freedom, and His restoring grace. The mission Jesus proclaimed in Nazareth shapes us as we extend it to others.

As we near fifty years of ministry, our hearts are full of gratitude and expectation. Isaiah 61 has set our course, reminding us that Jesus restores what is broken, rebuilds what has fallen, and renews what has grown weary. We’ve watched Him do this in many lives, and we trust His restoring work isn’t finished.

We are seeking the Lord for His vision for this next season. We want to be shaped, strengthened, and led by Him. Our confidence is not in ourselves but in His Spirit, who is still at work. His heart remains for the brokenhearted, the captive, and the one longing for hope.

This Advent, may our hearts turn again to Jesus, who fulfills every promise. And as we enter our fiftieth year, may we follow Him with faith, humility, and expectation, trusting that the same Jesus who spoke in the synagogue at Nazareth is the One who leads us now.

May the hope of Christ fill you this Advent, and may His restoring work continue in your life and in our ministry in the year ahead.

What is Grief?

Townsend defines grief this way:

Grief helps us process the reality of loss. Simply put, grief is letting go of what you cannot keep. Grief requires accepting, both mentally and emotionally, that something or someone you loved and valued is no more…And grief converts a wound into a memory. That is, when you learn the process of letting go, the pain you feel in the present moves down your neurological pathways physically [literally] into your memory banks, where the past resides. In the memory banks, you can review the past, understand the past, and learn from the past…Without grief, the wound never becomes a memory. You remain stuck in reexperiencing the hurt and hard times over and over again (pp. 90-91).

Components for Grieving a Loss

1. Acknowledge the Attachment

Townsend says it best:

“Without an emotional attachment, there is nothing to grieve…The greater the grief you feel, the greater the love you have for the person [or object] you lost. And you can’t instantly undo the attachment…The pain you feel is a good thing; it is a sign that you are alive inside” (p. 92).

2. Accept That You Can’t Control the Loss

Townsend explains:

“Grief requires that you give up control of the other person’s decision and admit that you do not have the power to make him or her love you or move toward you. You are accepting a type of helplessness…But in the end, you must accept that the other person is in the driver’s seat of his or her own life and path, toward you or away from you…This is a difficult area for most of us. No one wants to feel helpless…We resist helplessness when we don’t want to lose love [or an object, experience, etc.]. However, the sooner you can allow yourself to experience helplessness—to admit that you have no control over the other person’s decisions—the better off you will be” (pp. 92-93).

3. Name What You Valued

We affirm the importance of someone or something when we name what we valued. You cannot walk away from a relationship, especially without saying goodbye to both the bad and the good. A half-grief is never a healing grief.

Townsend notes:

“The ungrieved ‘good parts’ stay inside her [your] mind and heart and haunt her [you]” (p. 95).

He continues:

“It is better to help your friend [or yourself] to say things like, ‘I know he was controlling, but I do miss the good times.’ In that way, she is able to begin letting go of the whole person” (p. 95).

4. Surround Yourself with People Who Are Comforting

Townsend insightfully observes:

“Grief is letting go of something we can’t keep, but nature abhors a vacuum. It is hard to let go of a relationship [especially] by yourself, because there is a vacuum inside where the person used to be…You will continue reaching out and desiring the other person even though you know the relationship is over. Having people around you who have the capacity to comfort can help to fill the vacuum…Allowing yourself to be comforted by others not only salves your grief, it also greatly reduces the power of the vacuum” (p. 96).

He offers this wise, practical guidance:

“How do you know if someone has the capacity to comfort? By the degree to which they remain present with you when you grieve. Being present means they don’t try to give you advice, cheer you up, or change the topic…It is important, however, to be intentional about grief and not skip over it” (p. 96).

5. Allow the Sadness

 Sadness includes both longing and mourning. Your heart feels downcast. Townsend recommends allowing yourself to set aside doing and enter a feeling mode. Some suggestions include:

• Recalling both the good and the bad aspects of the relationship
• Meeting with a friend or a counselor to talk about the experiences you had
• Role-play what was said, what needs to be said, or what you wish you could say

Townsend points out:

“By welcoming your sadness, you allow your feelings to simply catch up with and ally with your thoughts about the reality of the loss” (p. 97).

Also, tell God honestly how you feel. He understands. After all, He watched His Son be tortured and die on that wretched Cross. The difficulty was so great that He had to turn away.

6. Give Yourself the Gift of Time

Townsend concludes:

“Remember that grief has its own pace. One part may take more or less time than you expected. Don’t attempt to force or control your grief process. Give yourself margin within the components” (p. 99).

If this season feels lonely or heavy, may you know the quiet nearness of the Lord who sees you, hears you, and walks with you through every step of your grief.

Bronwyn Welch gleans and reflects on Chapter 8 from John Townsend’s book, Beyond Boundaries.

Recently, we were reading about Abram, and I was gobsmacked again at how personal Scripture can get. His story stirred something in me because I see it in so many lives around us — parents crying out for reconciliation with their kids, and men and women who are fighting like crazy to walk in freedom from temptations that never seem to quit. And with Christmas coming, the season of promises finally fulfilled, this hit me even harder. A lot of us are still waiting, still knocking, still hoping for God to move and bring home what feels lost.

Reflection 1: The Pattern of Promise and Partial Obedience

Abram’s story starts with God calling him out of Haran — a place whose name is often connected with dryness or barrenness. And honestly, many of us know exactly what that feels like. God calls us out of something empty and points us toward something beautiful that we can’t see yet. That’s faith.

Then God gives Abram a second round of encouragement through a confirming dream. I love that. God knows we’re fragile. He knows we need reminders. So He reminds Abram.

But then Abram obeys… kind of. God told him to leave his family, but he brings Lot along anyway. And I thought, Yep. There it is. Human nature. We hear God clearly, but we only halfway obey because we want to keep something familiar, something comfortable, something we think we need. I’ve done that more times than I want to admit.

A lot of believers I know truly love God, but they feel this same tug-of-war inside. Hope and fear, faith and grief, longing and uncertainty are all tangled together. Abram’s story gets right into that tension, the place where we’re trying to trust God and still wrestling with our own humanity at the same time.

Abram settles for a time in Shechem. Later in Scripture, this same region is where Jesus meets the woman at the well. I can’t get over that. The promise God begins in Genesis connects all the way to the Messiah ministering to a broken woman whose testimony changed her whole community.

Then Abram sets up camp with Bethel (“house of God”) on one side and Ai (“desolate place”) on the other, and right between them he builds an altar. That picture gets me every time. Life often puts us between God’s presence and desolation. The altar — the place of worship and surrender — stands right there in the middle.

Then the famine hits. And this is where the story turns hard.

Reflection 2: The Temptation to Run to Egypt Instead of Returning to the Altar

When the famine comes, Abram doesn’t go back to the altar he built. He doesn’t stop to pray. He doesn’t ask God what to do. He heads straight for Egypt. He just packs up and goes. No conversation, no consultation. I read that and thought, Abram, my man… what are you doing?

But the Holy Spirit reminds me that I’ve done the same thing many times.

When life gets complicated, painful, or overwhelming, most of us don’t slow down and seek the Lord. We panic. We pull away. We scramble for solutions. Egypt becomes the place we run to when faith feels too risky.

When Abram arrives in Egypt, fear overtakes him. He asks Sarai to lie, saying she is his sister, because he believes the Egyptians will kill him for her beauty. And I almost said out loud, What?! Come on, Abram! But again, fear makes fools out of the best of us. I’ve made decisions that made just as little sense when I was scared or exhausted.

Pharaoh takes Sarai into his household. Plagues hit Pharaoh and his people. Something exposes the truth — Scripture doesn’t say how — and Pharaoh rebukes Abram and sends him away with Sarai and everything he has. And here’s the wild part: Abram leaves Egypt with more than he brought — but not all of it was good (perhaps even Hagar). Even when Abram fails, God protects. God intervenes. God covers.

Then Abram returns to the place where he first called on the Lord. After all the fear, all the bad decisions, all the running, Abram remembers where he belongs.

Back at the altar.

That’s the heart of the story for me. God gives promises. We believe. Then trouble comes, and instead of going to the altar — the place of prayer, surrender, and meeting — we sprint to Egypt. We try to fix everything ourselves. We forget God’s faithfulness. We forget His voice. We forget His promise. We forget that it’s not all about us.

Is faith hard? Yes.
Does God always do what we expect? No.
Does that make Him unkind? Not even a little.

His ways are higher. His thoughts are higher. He sees the entire battlefield when we only see a few feet ahead.

Our world often says God isn’t good because evil exists. But Jeremiah says the human heart is deceitful above all things. If God blessed everything people desired, the world would tear itself apart. His restraint is mercy, even when we don’t understand it.

I’ve known people who walked away from God because He didn’t give them what they demanded. And it breaks my heart every time. Jesus died on the cross to give us everything we truly need, and still some people turn aside. Even when Jesus walked the earth, people walked away from Him.

And then I think of Corrie ten Boom. Arrested. Beaten. Sent to Ravensbrück. Losing her father and sister. And she came out saying, “There is no pit so deep that Jesus is not deeper still.” That is faith that has been to Egypt and back — faith that went straight to the altar afterward.

Conclusion: Christmas and the Promise Kept

This Christmas season, I hope we remember that God always keeps His promises, even when the waiting feels endless. He kept His promise in Bethlehem. He keeps His promises now. He calls us out of barren places. He meets us at the altar. And He invites us to trust Him when we cannot see the path.

Will He accomplish His will and not ours?
Yes. A million times yes.

I leave you with 1 Peter 1:3–9, a reminder of our living hope:

3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who according to His abundant mercy has begotten us again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,
4 to an inheritance incorruptible and undefiled and that does not fade away, reserved in heaven for you,
5 who are kept by the power of God through faith for salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.
6 In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while, if need be, you have been grieved by various trials,
7 that the genuineness of your faith, being much more precious than gold that perishes, though it is tested by fire, may be found to praise, honor, and glory at the revelation of Jesus Christ,
8 whom having not seen you love. Though now you do not see Him, yet believing, you rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory,
9 receiving the end of your faith, the salvation of your souls.

Inside this Edition

Articles & Reading

• Breaking Free from the Fear of Man
• Boundaries with Adult Prodigal Children
• The Words We Hide Behind
• Honoring Convictions, Praying for Courage (Charlie Kirk)

Events & Groups

• Be Steadfast Parents Groups - Online and In-Person
• Quarterly Prayer Meetings for FSM
• Re:Storied 2025 Southwest - November 7-8, 2025

Have you ever walked away from a conversation and replayed it in your head a hundred times, wondering what the other person thought of you?

Or held back from saying what you truly believed, just to keep the peace?

Or have you said yes when you wanted to say no, simply to avoid disappointing someone?

That invisible tug, the desire to be liked, praised, included, or approved of, is often more powerful than we realize. The Bible calls this the fear of man. We might also call it a man-pleasing spirit or people-pleasing. It can shape our lives in ways we do not even see until we stop to ask: Whose opinion holds the most power in my life?

Recently, I led a four-week teaching series on this subject. What follows is a summary of the journey we took together. We exposed the roots of approval addiction, uncovered its cost, and pointed toward the freedom that comes only from trusting and fearing the Lord.

The Snare of People-Pleasing

Proverbs 29:25 warns us: “The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe.”

That word snare is vivid. It pictures a trap laid by a hunter, waiting for its prey. Fear of man is like that. It lures us with the promise of safety, but it ends up enslaving us.

This man-pleasing spirit shows up in many ways:

• Needing affirmation to feel okay.
• Avoiding conflict at all costs.
• Constantly comparing ourselves to others.
• Over-apologizing, over-performing, or overthinking.
• Replaying conversations long after they end.

Christian counselor Rick Thomas defines approval addiction as seeking from others what we should be receiving from God. That is exactly what the fear of man does. It misplaces our need for security, value, and love.

Where It Comes From

Most of us do not wake up one morning with approval addiction. It grows over time.

• Childhood Messages: Some learned early that love felt conditional. Affection came when we got it right. Criticism loomed when we did not. Others grew up in homes where kindness was scarce, and silence left a hole they now try to fill with affirmation.
• Social Pressure: As teenagers, fitting in feels like survival. Today, the pressure just changes form through those curated highlight reels of social media, the subtle measuring of success by appearance or achievement, the fear of missing out.
• Personality and Pain: Natural peacekeepers can drift into people-pleasing. Perfectionists can become enslaved to others’ opinions. Past rejection, betrayal, or trauma can leave us hyper-vigilant against disapproval.

All of this quietly shapes us into believing that we are only safe when others approve of us. When that belief takes root, we live adjusting, performing, and striving so we will not be rejected again.

But at its deepest level, the fear of man is not only a people problem. It is an identity problem. If I do not know who I am in Christ, I will try to build my identity on borrowed opinions. Praise feels like permission to be okay; disapproval feels like proof I am not enough.

The Cost of Living for Approval

Fear of man is costly. It weighs down our emotions and shapes our obedience.

Saul at Gilgal

Think of King Saul. God’s clear command through Samuel was to destroy the Amalekites and all their possessions. Yet Saul spared King Agag and the best of the livestock. When confronted, he admitted, “I have sinned. I violated the Lord’s command and your instructions. I was afraid of the men, and so I gave in to them” (1 Samuel 15:24). Fear of people’s disapproval cost him his throne and his standing with God. Saul’s story reminds us that the fear of man does not just shape feelings—it can derail obedience itself.

Aaron at Sinai

Or Aaron at Sinai. While Moses was on the mountain with God, the people grew restless and pressed him to make a god. Under that pressure, Aaron gave in, melted their gold, and shaped a calf. Moses rebuked him, asking, “What did this people do to you, that you have brought such great sin upon them?” (Ex. 32:21). Aaron’s excuse was weak: “They gave me the gold, and I threw it into the fire, and out came this calf!” (v. 24).

This account is striking. Aaron had been called to be a priest before the Lord and to serve the people, yet he quickly complied with the people’s will instead of leading them in truth. Scripture doesn’t explicitly say Aaron feared the people, but his failure to restrain them (v. 25) shows how human pressure can compromise even a man of God. Whether through weakness, poor judgment, or fear, Aaron’s compromise demonstrates how the fear of man can outweigh the fear of the Lord.

The Sobering Lesson

Both Saul and Aaron were leaders called by God and both illustrate the same truth: when keeping people happy becomes our focus, we often end up disobeying God.

And it is not just ancient history. I have tasted the same struggle in my own life. Years ago, during a church conflict, I froze. Instead of asking, “Lord, what do You want me to do?” I thought, “How do I keep the peace?” Fear made me passive. What felt like self-protection was actually self-sabotage, and what I mistook for peace was destructive to others. In those days, I never imagined that passivity and avoidance could become a doorway to wickedness. My inability to act rightly may have wounded souls in ways that only God’s grace can yet redeem.

Fear of man does not just make us insecure—it makes us unreliable. It keeps us silent when we should speak, passive when we should act, and enabling when we should confront. It harms relationships by replacing love with self-protection, and it damages our souls by keeping us bound.

Taking Steps Toward Freedom

Thankfully, God does not leave us trapped in people-pleasing. His Word gives us a way forward.

1. Practice a Preference for God: Steve Macchia calls this noticing God in every relationship, circumstance, and conversation. When He is big in our eyes, people’s opinions shrink.
2. Secure Your Identity in Christ: Galatians 1:10 reminds us to seek God’s approval above all. Rooted in Christ, criticism does not crush us and praise does not inflate us.
3. Recognize Triggers: Triggers are like dashboard lights—not the problem themselves, but signals pointing us back to God.
4. Invite Accountability: Confession breaks fear’s grip. Sharing honestly with trusted friends and advisors helps bring freedom.
5. Cultivate the Fear of the Lord: Proverbs 19:23 (NIV) says, “The fear of the Lord leads to life; then one rests content, untouched by trouble.” Awe shrinks fear.

Ultimately, Proverbs 29:25 reminds us that freedom is not just the absence of fear but the presence of trust. Trusting the Lord anchors us in His safety, making His voice steadier than the shifting approval of people. To trust the Lord is to believe that His voice carries more weight than anyone else’s. It is choosing His approval over the crowd’s, His presence over their pressure. Trusting the Lord steadies us individually, but it was never meant to stop there as we do need others to help us live it out.

Finding Freedom in Community

We do not break free from the fear of man alone. God designed us to grow in community. Malachi 3 contrasts two groups. Some grumbled, comparing themselves to the world, saying, “What is the use of serving God?” But others feared the Lord and spoke with one another, and God Himself listened and wrote their names in His book of remembrance.

That is the fellowship we need: conversations that magnify God, encouragement that anchors us in Christ, and accountability that calls us back to obedience. The fear of man flourishes in isolation but withers in a community where God’s greatness is the main conversation.

An Invitation
Has the fear of man set a trap for you? In your relationships, your decisions, or in the hidden places of your heart, where has the pull of a man-pleasing spirit—your need for people’s approval—kept you bound? Ask the Holy Spirit to search your heart, your mind, and your motives. Ask Him to expose what is hidden, and to empower you for change.

The fear of man does not merely inconvenience us; it enslaves us. This truth is sobering, but the good news is greater still. Freedom is possible. Jesus has already won it through His cross and resurrection, and He gives you the power to walk in that freedom. The same Lord who calls you to fear Him above all else also invites you to trust Him as your refuge and strength.

As Proverbs 29:25 promises: “The fear of man lays a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is safe.”

May we be a people who walk in that safety—anchored in Christ, freed from the trap of people-pleasing, and alive in the joy of fearing the Lord together, for His glory and the good of others.