Refined by Adversity: A Journey of Maturity and Grace

Asserting our right to express ourselves is not inherently wrong. It is, in fact, a fundamental aspect of individuality and freedom. However, when self-expression morphs into relentless assertion—when the need to be heard overrides the need to listen, understand, and grow—it can become destructive. A lesson learned not through theory, but through experience.

There were countless moments in my life when I found myself overly eager to claim this right, sometimes even to the point of absurdity. I had, on several occasions, unconsciously embraced the notion that appearing intellectually superior—no matter how shallow the logic—was a badge of honor. I remember my high school years vividly, a time when I eagerly thrust myself into debates, initiated arguments with my mentors and classmates, and stubbornly defended points that, in hindsight, lacked real substance. My goal was not wisdom but dominance—winning an argument for the sake of winning, rather than to genuinely seek truth.

These habits did not serve me well. Instead of fostering respect, they alienated me. Instead of gaining admiration, I unknowingly pushed myself further away from those around me. The more I spoke, the less I acted upon what was truly right. I was consumed by the impulse to be heard but had little regard for the importance of listening. What I did not realize then was that understanding is just as important—if not more so—than the ability to assert one's thoughts.

As I moved into my college years, particularly within the structured discipline of the seminary, my tendencies toward self-assertion took a different form. It was no longer academic debates but rather unusual claims—premonitions, predictions, and discussions of supernatural elements—that filled my conversations. I spoke about experiences that seemed mysterious, moments that seemed profound, and shared theories that, at the time, felt like grand revelations.

Yet, as I reflect now, all those narratives feel empty in the grand scheme of my growth. They neither shaped my character nor solidified my development as a person of depth and wisdom. Instead, they were fleeting distractions—illusions of intellect and insight that held no real weight in the journey toward self-improvement. Looking back, I recognize that I was merely chasing a mirage, foolishly clinging to thoughts that did nothing to refine my soul or strengthen my purpose.

The greatest realization came when I finally allowed myself to step away from my own certainties. The decision to stop being deceived by my own inflated confidence opened a new avenue—one that led me toward maturity, patience, and faith. It allowed me to recognize that wisdom is not found in an overbearing voice but in humility, in quiet reflection, and in the willingness to listen.

Faith, much like wisdom, is cultivated not through force but through surrender—through the acceptance that we do not need to prove ourselves incessantly, but instead learn to trust in the higher truths that shape our existence. And so, as I continue this journey, I hold onto the lesson that assertion, when unchecked, can be blinding. But when tempered with understanding, patience, and faith, it becomes a force for growth rather than division.