Dealing With Criticism
A Public Speaker's Thoughts (Things That Matter #14)
There’s a little mantra I’ve carried around for years and, unlike Biden and his recent attempt to do an interview on The View, I’ve never been left with regret afterward. It goes like this: Don’t welcome criticism from someone you’d never ask for advice. I don’t remember where I first read or heard that but, like my wife trying to parallel park, it stuck. Throughout my life, I’ve been criticized in nearly every area of my life.
As a pastor? Please. If a sermon didn’t change someone’s life or give them truth nuggets or stoke their positivity vibes, they chalked it up to a waste of their Sunday. And they were sure to tell me, too. If it did change their life, they were mad it wasn’t longer. As a pastor, you learn real quick that church folks will critique anything and everything they can: your preaching, your theology, your jokes, and your haircut, all while they’ve been a “believer” for 30 years and still can’t pronounce “Habakkuk.” And don’t even get me started on church music. There’s no pleasing anyone. They want revival, but only if the drummer plays softer. And only if the song was written before 1490.
As a professor, it’s the same circus, just different monkeys. Every semester ends with those delightful little evaluations where students get to rate you like you’re a poorly managed Chili’s. Course evals are like Yelp for young adults who, as we all know, are pros at judging. I once had a student say I was “too passionate about the subject.” I’m so sorry, dear student, that I love what I do. Should I hate it just a little more for you? Should I be a tad more pessimistic? Another said my class was “too hard,” which is interesting, because the assignment was “read the article and write a review paragraph,” not “conquer Everest barefoot.”
As a comedian, criticism is just part of the meal, too. You serve your set, you eat your fries, and then someone says, “You’re not funny.” Oh, thank you, Chuck, father of three, who loves couponing and yardsaling and has the emotional range of a wet paper plate. I wasn’t going to believe in myself today until your unpaid, unsolicited review just set me free. Sweet cargo shorts and Crocs, by the way!
And that brings me to why this principle matters so much. First, not all criticism is equal. Some is legit feedback and some is absolute noise. If you wouldn’t ask a person for directions, then don’t let them tell you where to go. If you wouldn’t trust them to help you improve, then don’t let them speak into your life. Again: don’t welcome criticism from people you would go to for advice!
Second, caring too much about the wrong criticism has a way of paralyzing you. Either that or you’ll find yourself constantly editing your personality like a text you don’t want your boss to read. I’m serious! Welcoming the wrong criticism will get you to second-guess everything. “Should I say this? Should I do that?” The fact is: criticism is inevitable. But internalizing all of it? No need! That’s how you create anxiety, not excellence. And yes, I realize it’s often easier said than done. But you still gotta try to do it.
Third, and maybe most importantly, letting go of the wrong voices lets you hear the right ones. That’s where the real power is. When you stop tuning into the big mouths up in the cheap seats, you can finally focus on your inner circle, your people, the people who love you, know you, and aren’t trying to prove anything by tearing you down. Of course, you need people who tell you when your breath stinks, your jokes flop, or your argument has more holes than the youth pastor’s theology. But they’re the people who do it because they’re for you.
When I was a young minister just out of Bible College, I had an older preacher overseeing me who repeatedly had two sayings for me: 1) “You gotta grow thick skin to be a minister” and, 2) “You gotta learn to let criticism just roll off like water on a duck’s back.” Both of those sayings drove me crazy. I thought thick skin would make me a callous pastor and letting things roll off would make me seem nonchalant. Neither fit me. Nevertheless, I understood the sentiment. What he didn’t tell me is that growing thick skin and learning to let things roll off usually takes many years.
I’m still learning to laugh off the cheap shots, to ignore the drive-by critiques, to leave the anonymous comment section exactly where it belongs…in the trash. I’m not saying it never stings. Sometimes it does. So, I always try to remind myself that, if I wouldn’t go to them for advice, I’m not going to take their insults to heart either.
So, for me, this is a principle that matters. The older I get, the more I realize: if I’m gonna make it through this world with my joy intact and my peace preserved, I’m gonna have to get real clear about who gets a seat at my table and when. And newsflash: not everyone deserves to dine with me. Some folks just need to be blessed and blocked.
So, the next time someone criticizes you and you find yourself getting a bit stirred up or rattled, just ask yourself: would I ever go to this person for advice? Is there any scenario in which I would ask them for pointers? If the answer is no, then go ahead and laugh and get back to living. Because, while their opinion might be loud, that doesn’t mean it’s at all worth listening to.