In my early years of ministry, well-intentioned people would often repeat the same phrase like a broken record:
“It is not about you, Juan Carlos. If you want God to use you, don’t focus on yourself. If you want to make a difference in this world, it cannot be about you.”
Really?
That statement sounds deeply spiritual, but I believe it falls short when subjected to careful and objective examination.
Why?
People often repeat what they have heard without taking the time to examine whether it is actually true. There are many reasons for this: social influence, cognitive biases, personal experiences, and the tendency to trust respected voices without critical reflection. Once an idea is accepted by enough people, it becomes remarkably easy to spread—even when it is incomplete or simply wrong.
A statement may sound inspiring, but if it lacks evidence, coherence, and consistency, it cannot withstand honest scrutiny. Careful examination often exposes logical fallacies, contradictions, and significant gaps in reasoning.
Consider another perspective.
If you genuinely want your life to make a meaningful difference in the lives of others, then, in one very important sense, it must be about you.
You must first become the kind of person capable of helping others.
Jesus said that “the blind cannot lead the blind.” His point was obvious: before leading someone else, you must first possess greater vision yourself. Before lifting another person, you must stand on solid ground.
If you want to help the poor, you cannot remain trapped in poverty yourself. How can you give generously if you have nothing to give? How can you offer emotional support, empathy, and patience when your own emotional reserves have been depleted? How can you inspire courage if you are ruled by fear? How can you teach strength while living in weakness?
When God called me to follow Christ, I was twenty-three years old. At that time, a powerful Jesus Movement–type revival was sweeping through the Methodist Church in Cuba. I became president of the Methodist Youth League, and the fire of God burned intensely within me.
My desire to please the Lord led me to become a passionate—and sometimes controversial—leader.
Many admired, respected, and celebrated my leadership. Others merely tolerated me, rejected me, or expressed a quiet but unmistakable contempt for my convictions.
Today I understand why.
I was young. I was sincere. But I was also inexperienced.
My unchecked zeal led me to organize a nationwide movement promoting a life of self-denial among young believers. My desire was noble: I wanted an entire generation to reflect the character of Christ in every area of life.
That was good, and for a season it served an important purpose.
Unfortunately, some young leaders misunderstood what true self-denial meant. Guided by a distorted form of humility, they gradually sabotaged their own lives.
Because they believed money was unimportant, they saw little reason to work diligently. Since appearance supposedly did not matter, they neglected how they presented themselves. Their attitude became, “Our way or no way.”
Their goal slowly shifted. Instead of winning souls and making disciples, they became more interested in winning arguments and gaining followers.
The result was tragic.
They lost credibility.
They damaged meaningful relationships.
They forfeited influence.
The problem was obvious. They were so determined to prove that God was right that they failed to demonstrate that He was real.
Many also became suspicious of education, personal development, and intellectual inquiry. As a result, they missed extraordinary opportunities to influence an emerging generation of leaders, thinkers, and culture shapers.
One of the dominant teachings at the time was that Christ’s return was imminent and that the world, as we knew it, was about to end. While that expectation fueled sincere devotion, it also caused some people to neglect the responsibilities of building meaningful, productive lives in the present.
Now let me come to the heart of my argument.
What does it really mean to say that “it has to be about you”?
It means that before attempting to rescue someone from the tragic consequences of an unlived life, you must first become a person of strength rather than weakness.
You must rise above before you can lift others up.
You must become emotionally healthy before you can help heal wounded hearts.
You must become financially responsible before you can practice lasting generosity.
You must become spiritually mature before you can guide others toward maturity.
Isn’t this exactly the kind of life God desires for His people?
The apostle John certainly thought so when he wrote:
“Beloved, I pray that you may prosper in all things and be in health, just as your soul prospers.”
Notice the order.
Prosperity and health are wonderful gifts from God, but both are secondary to the condition of the soul.
A healthy soul is cultivated through self-awareness, humility, discipline, repentance, and the daily pursuit of virtue. It requires the courage to confront your weaknesses instead of pretending they do not exist.
Growth never happens in a day.
It happens daily.
Day after day, disciplined choices shape a resilient heart and a mature character.
One of the greatest strengths a man can possess is emotional health.
An emotionally healthy man is resilient. He adapts to adversity without losing himself. He is self-aware enough to recognize his limitations and wise enough to establish healthy boundaries. He navigates life’s victories and disappointments with hope, stability, and a deep sense of God’s purpose.
Such people become safe places for others.
Their strength enables them to walk beside those who are struggling through the wildfires and the cool breezes of life.
That is why I began this chapter by saying that if you truly want to make a lasting difference in the lives of others, then, in an important sense, it has to be about you.
You must first care for yourself if you hope to care well for others.
Consider Jesus’ command:
“Love your neighbor as yourself.”
Not more than yourself.
As yourself.
If you consistently love your neighbor while neglecting your own God-given responsibilities, you are not practicing biblical self-sacrifice—you are practicing self-neglect.
Denying your most basic needs is not an act of holiness.
It is often an act of self-sabotage.
Perhaps that is why Ecclesiastes offers this sobering warning:
“Do not be overly righteous… Why should you destroy yourself?” (Ecclesiastes 7:16)
God never intended self-denial to become self-destruction.
He calls us to become healthy, whole, and mature people—not so that we can live for ourselves, but so that we may become a greater blessing to everyone around us.