The Problem with Projecting

Photo by Moni Mckein

Lately, I’ve been diving into the Enneagram—a tool that can be used not just for identifying your personality but also for using information regarding the common lies you can believe, what motivates you, and what you are most likely seeking in order to work with God to become a healthier person. I’ve been listening to Annie F. Downs’ podcasts in which she interviews a male and a female of each of the nine numbers, and I’ve been fascinated by getting a better understanding of the behavior of those around me. I have also learned over the last year that I am a 6—the personality that is most known for extreme loyalty but also is constantly looking for security and stability. A cardinal marker and common trap for a 6 (and for us humans beings in general) is projecting. Projecting is just a fancy word for saying that I assume that people think or feel the way that I imagine that they think or feel (and usually, the assumption is that they think or feel the same way that I think or feel about myself or in a way that seems logical to me). Basically, it’s a defense mechanism. Rather than seeing my own emotions toward myself, I assume that others feel that way about me.

It seems to me that there can sometimes be a fine line between playing the devil’s advocate and projecting. (Sixes are rightly known as the devil’s advocate kind of personality because they can see things from all sides.) In my case, because stability and security are my most-desired aspects in life, I often over-emphasize preparation and being aware of everything and everyone around me (even in terms of what could happen). That also translates into putting myself in the shoes of others to think and feel from other points of view. While this practice—that try as I might, I just can’t turn off easily—is good for developing genuine empathy and understanding, when a lens of woundedness comes into play, it can become a great deceiver and can slip into projecting.

Here are some examples of how this plays out in real time:
I’m walking across the room while people are taking a test, and my shoes are squeaking. Oh my gosh. I’m sure I am driving everyone crazy with these shoes. They probably can’t concentrate at all! They are probably so annoyed! I should sit down as soon as possible.

I get a “Hi, how are you?” text out of the blue from someone I haven’t heard from in ages, who I wasn’t ever really close to, and who comes from an environment of people who have sucked me dry in terms of favors, finances, and morale. I already know that that person is going to ask me for something. Should I even bother answering? But, of course, I do, eventually, because I want to be mature and not make assumptions…My gut was right though.

That person said something that could have been taken in the wrong way. But I know her heart and know that she only meant good things when she said that. I hope she doesn’t worry later about how she came off.

Someone drops by my house without calling first, and my floors are in desperate need of mopping. Man, just by looking at my floors, these people are going to think I’m a bad wife who just sits around all day and does nothing. (If you could see my to-do list!)

It just goes on and on. Sometimes, it’s related to wanting to understand and extend compassion to someone But, it can also relate to how people see me or how I could be affecting them or what they could think of me. It’s extra difficult because a lot of the times, without even meaning to, I pick up on something, and I end up being right. This only enforces my internal idea that all of my devil’s advocate conclusions are grounded and reasonable. Some are, and this aspect of my personality can be a gift. But, sometimes, when I’m not in a healthy place, I make assumptions about how others feel about me that are completely unfounded in truth. At this point, I’m hoping that at least someone who is reading this is thinking, “Oh yeah, I do this too.”

Now have you ever thought about how we can tend to do this not just with people but also with God?

When I first moved to Honduras, I was excited and eager to learn. My short-term experiences had given me a certain impression of the culture I was entering, and while it wasn’t wrong necessarily, it was just superficial. My expectation for life in terms of those around me was to be accepted. While I knew I wasn’t going to fit in, I had received so much hospitality leading up to my move that I felt like I was entering new opportunities for healthy relationships. During those first few years, while I experienced a lot of loneliness and hardships, there were a few constant practices that kept me in a healthy place—running, journaling, and worship.

I started running in college partially because of my dad’s influence but also because I started liking it. Because I live in my head so often, running is the perfect way for me to pray and intercede and spend time with God because it keeps me focused on this one breath and this one moment. No distractions. If I let myself wander in my thoughts, I’ll soon start convincing myself that I’m tired and want to quit. So, I listen to worship music while I run, and I let the songs that come on start to form a conversation between me and God.

Journaling is a similar concept for me. It’s letting that stream of consciousness, of worry, of to-dos, of unanswered questions, of pent-up emotions flow out of my mind and onto the page. My first few years in Honduras, I journaled almost every day. It was one of my quickest go-tos and forms of refuge.

I have always loved worship, and I am quick to feel a connection to God’s presence in worship (whether I want to or not). Worship throughout my years in Honduras has taken many different forms—dancing at Teen Challenge, sitting totally still and just being, kneeling in total loss, and leading. But, regardless, of the form, up until a couple of years ago, worship was synonymous with freedom for me.

So, here’s my confession—I ran for a year straight, every day probably about six or seven years ago. Then I got really sick, and I haven’t been consistently running since (until starting again this week). If you look at my journals, since right about the time that I started fostering the kids probably five or six years ago, most of my entries are just excerpts I like from the books I’m reading, the occasional song lyrics, Bible verses, and once in a great while, something I’m personally reflecting on. I just stopped processing in writing. And, as a sweet friend has said about me, “I know that when my baby is blogging, she is doing well. When she stops writing is when I need to worry.” She is so insightful. And, that last form of worship—leading—not ending so well is what seemed to tie a permanent knot in my throat and my soul. I still respond in worship now—but it’s usually in the form of tears I’m trying to hold back.

Recently, when Raúl and I spent a couple hours at the ocean, and I got to feel the force of the waves pounding against me after more years than I can count, I had a realization. All of this time, I’ve been asking God for purpose, for direction, for some instant gratification encounter, for some miraculous healing of my heart and to be able to get back to where I once used to be. But, in actuality, I think the solutions that I have been searching for are actually as simple and as rhythmic as those ocean waves. It’s in running, writing, and worship, daily.

So, what triggered my long avoidance of these healthy rules of life? The simple (yet ever elusive answer) is projecting.

It’s been as subtle as thoughts like this:

God, it seems like everything I try to do in ministry ends in failure. I’ve thought I was doing the best that I could. Maybe I’m just not very good at hearing Your voice. (So I unconsciously stop trying to—at least in a personal way--, and I reduce God to a boss and me into His employee. I’m just waiting for my next orders. When I don’t receive my next “orders,” my projection ends up being that God isn’t talking to me.)

I thought God led me to that place and those people, but that ended in more hurt and betrayal and rejection. Did He do that on purpose? If I ask Him where to go or what to do next, what if He asks me to be in a position to get hurt again? I do want to be obedient… (But I unconsciously close myself off to a lot of what God could have to say to me for fear that He’ll ask me to do something I’m afraid will lead to more pain. My projection is that God isn’t safe or isn’t interested in protecting my heart.)

No matter what I do, nothing seems to turn out right. I have really wanted to please God, but everything just ends in failure. (Because I feel displeased and useless, I assume God must be displeased with me or that He’s as angry with me as I feel.)

So, even though I’ve known for a long time that I should run, it took me a long time to get started because I don’t feel like I’m very good at running (especially not with the pounds I’ve put on since getting married), and I couldn’t handle failing at something else. And, also, for me, running is just as much a spiritual exercise as it is a physical one. There is a particular kind of vulnerability with God when I’m running that I was avoiding.

I still haven’t gotten back into a good personal journaling routine (yet), but that’s where the beauty of God’s grace has really shone over my heart and life. I decided to start blogging weekly just as a guilty pleasure outlet. It was a way of seeing if I could take writing more seriously and better steward something that I enjoy doing. As a result of making it a priority, I’ve had to reflect more and take more time to gain perspective and feel God’s kindness and process the jumbled emotions going on inside. I had been knocking on God’s front door looking for my next “ministry” step of purpose and fruitfulness. I was sure that He wasn’t necessarily as interested in my writing as He was in my “doing,” but it’s been through writing consistently that He’s led me stealthily through the back door of my own heart and back into His. He’s reminded me of His grace by connecting Himself deeply to writing, something I find joy in.

Worship has been the toughest nut to crack. Before joining a worship team, I had been so protective of worship in my life. I had always wanted to preserve the sense of freedom and self-expression and connecting with God exactly as myself that I’d enjoyed for so long. It’s not that I didn’t want to serve; it’s that I was afraid that my freedom would be taken away from me. And, apart from that, I was sensitive to how quickly I can fall into the religious trap of striving and performing. I didn’t want to make worship something cheap or thoughtless, nor did I want to make it something over which to obsess with perfectionism. When I finally joined, I did so in a place that seemed to be a clean slate that was just starting. I thought that I was entering into a safe place where freedom was valued. I felt blessed to be able to experience how hard it can truly be to lead others to worship and to appreciate the hard work and preparation that goes into not just rehearsing songs but also preparing one’s own heart. But, it wasn’t long before many of those things I’d feared began encroaching in ways that I hadn’t expected, and I left that situation with a profoundly broken heart. Something I guarded so safely for so long in my life felt contaminated. I felt like I couldn’t trust myself to discern safe places any more, and I worried that I’d made what was once just a precious, intimate space between me and God into something I now associated with disrespect and pain. Yet, now, I am slowly getting back to the basics.

The problem with projecting is relational in every sense. It takes away our capacity to relate directly to a person because we rely too heavily on our own assumptions. It becomes a breeding ground for lies from the enemy about our self-worth because those thoughts and assumptions are often never brought to light. It’s much easier to convince yourself that you’ll be rejected when you never test the waters of reality to see if it’s true. It’s also deeply unfair in relational practice—it’s not giving the benefit of the doubt or allowing the other person to defend himself/herself. It’s so easy to create a false sense of safety through projection, but what we’re actually doing is building walls around our hearts where no one can get in. Then, our narrative about rejection becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. We let no one in, so we assume that everyone is rejecting us.

When it comes to God, projection can be so subtle that it can take a long time to realize that we’re doing it. It can be a slow distancing over time, hiding small aspects of our heart in mere silence. It can be making ourselves so busy in ministry, doing things for God, even while we stop talking directly to Him. Or it can be continuing to pray fervently but never taking a breath to let Him get a word in edgewise. A lot of times, God’s kindness has to break through those walls in unexpected forms to make us realize that He isn’t who we’ve made Him out to be. I, for one, even in all of my brokenness and deficiencies, feel excited that God isn’t who I’ve thought He is. It means that I have a chance to let Him out of my boxy definitions yet again to get to know Him in new and deeper ways. It means that the way that I’ve seen God depicted, the way that others have talked to me in God’s name that have caused me hurt, don’t have dimension on a God who refuses to only have one name. He describes Himself in so many ways. His incarnation, His Son, Jesus, royally overthrew everyone’s preconceived notions of a Savior. So, I am eager to open the door to let Him surprise me with Himself, to show me my blind spots, and to once again save me from myself. When I’ve painted Him as an unrelenting boss, He has scooped me up like a father. When I’ve assumed He’s angry, He grants me overwhelming grace. When I drag all of my “doing” to His feet like a payment or a penance, He reminds me that all along all He wanted was my heart.




Even if you, like me, have caught yourself projecting your own ideas onto God, there is hope. We can never tether ourselves too tightly to an idea of Him that He can’t unravel. We can’t hide ourselves so stealthily under our assumptions of His nature that He can’t find us and pull us out. For me, it has started with a sincere admission that I have deceived myself into thinking He is someone He isn’t and with inviting Him to show me once again who He really is in all of His sweetness, fierceness, and faithfulness. I think that’s a step worth taking for all of us. By default, getting to know the truth of who God, our Creator, is will also give us new, kinder, and more truthful perspectives of who we are as well. While we may have been looking from a lens of hurt, rejection, and pain, spending time with our Father calls us up to view life and even our deficiencies from heavenly places of divine security.


Photo by Christian Hansel