It’s like telling to a fish to just ignore the water and swim wherever it wants to.

I always care what other people think. It’s hard not to be myself, but I feel very badly when it upsets people, even if I don’t like them.

Awesome comment, annegb.

Naismith, that’s a really good point about context. I realize that I’m talking about this rather vaguely, and you’re right to point out that there are different kinds of issues, and different situations. Clearly if you’re working in an organizational capacity with someone, their views are relevant. I’m probably thinking about this in a more informal context, and that’s where I need to parse this out more–because even in some of my more personal decisions, I can’t say I’m entirely immune to the influence (and anticipated reactions) of others.

Thanks Ardis! Very nice to have the Declaration of Independence on my side.

Jessawhy, you’ve figured me out. I saw the Niblets results and immediately composed this post in a fit of rage. (Actually—and this is only because I care so much what others think–I was enormously flattered that anyone voted for me for anything, especially given the extent to which I’ve fallen into blogging slackerdom.)

Katya, that’s another good qualification that I hadn’t taken into account, and one that’s clearly relevant. Some people’s opinions definitely matter to me a lot more than others. Random person on the street telling me that the end is nigh—not so much. My advisor telling me that the end is nigh—a little more cause for concern. I think Starfoxy once mentioned that she found it more difficult to comment on blogs once she knew people, because she cared more what they thought, which is a dynamic that makes a lot of sense to me.

Last Lemming, that’s an intriguing way of putting it; I’ll have to think about that.

Zina, thanks for your thoughts; I like what you say about seeking to be peacemakers. And this got me thinking:

By the way, I did assume that those people you’re describing who are being lauded for “being themselves” aren’t usually doing so in the cause of religion; (other than secular zealotry); I only brought up the example of being one’s self for the sake of following God because I think that’s a clear case where avoiding “fear of man” is definitely a virtue.

This probably isn’t quite what you’re talking about here, but I do think this dynamic plays out in the area of religion. I’m thinking of the way in which this narrative shows up in the context of our own religious community–we love stories about people who defended the faith in a hostile environment, but we don’t tell as many about people who realized that there are times when loudly proclaiming your testimony isn’t actually the best move. And more internally, we talk about the liberal who dares to challenge a conventional interpretation at church, or the conservative who bravely stands up for truth among a group of apostate-sounding Mormons.

This is something I really struggle with personally as far as finding a balance—on the one hand, I get frustrated when I feel like I have to drastically censor myself at church, but on the other, I do think there’s something to be said for respecting community norms. (On a related note, I also think it’s worth acknowledging that of course community expectations affect us, rather than lecturing people for caring too much if they at times find those expectations difficult.)

But getting back to your comment, I have to admit that I’ve struggled a bit with the ideal of fearing God more than [wo]man. Maybe if it were framed as “your relationship to God is ultimately the highest priority, but that’s not to say that other relationships don’t matter, deeply” as opposed to the, “don’t worry about what others think, only worry about what God thinks” version. I think I’ve had too many bad experiences with people using the latter as justification for acting obnoxious. Or using it as a kind of weapon (e.g, what’s wrong with you that you care what others think, and not just God? you must have no faith). Hmm. Maybe what I’m trying to get at is that as I see it, God doesn’t ask us to abandon our relationality to follow him, but rather wants us to follow him as the relational beings that we are.

Thanks, Kevin! I appreciate your kind comment, because truth to tell, I care what you think.

aerin, I appreciate your thoughts. I agree that it’s a balance–and often a tough one to find. Like you, I’ve found the line “you’re too sensitive” to be strikingly unhelpful; that’s great that you’ve found a better way of dealing with the issue. And that’s a good reminder that people’s reactions as often as not are about them; that’s something I don’t remember as often as I could.

This is very much a challenge for me (as is probably obvious), and I think I’ve finally started to figure out that criticizing myself for being sensitive and reacting strongly to things doesn’t really get me anywhere. It’s much more effective, I’ve found, to accept that I’m prone to reacting intensely–a fact which poses both benefits and challenges–and my task is to go from there and think about how to responsibly work with that, instead of trying to turn it off.

Th., admit it, you love a good paradox.

queuno,

That’s a complicated statement, particularly when we assert that we are punished and saved on our own merits…

Sure, exaltation depends on a marriage relationship (either entered into here or in the eternities somewhere), but it’s an individual effort that comes first…

I’m not trying to downplay the role of individual effort, but I’d take issue with the assertion that we’re saved on our own merits. The fact that salvation requires a relationship with Christ already goes against any ideal of autonomy, I would say. But my point here was more that in an LDS worldview, the highest form of existence isn’t to be a completely autonomous and independent individual. That’s an aspect of Mormonism that I really like, that relationships with other human beings matter in a way that’s eternally significant.

That is a marvelous way of phrasing it. I think I agree with you (I’ll know better after I’ve mulled it for a bit . . . you know, processed it). I’m going to quote you . . . Thanks.