There are conversations that stay with us long after they’ve ended.
Not because they were long.
Because they changed something inside us.
Years ago, someone I deeply respected said something that caught me completely off guard.
They told me I lacked a coach’s heart.
The comment came after I questioned a decision they had made. I saw the situation differently and chose not to simply agree.
Until that moment, I had viewed this person as a trusted mentor.
Someone whose wisdom had shaped me.
Someone whose opinion carried significant weight.
So when those words landed, they landed hard.
For a long time, I wondered if they were right.
Had I become too direct?
Too strong?
Too unwilling to accommodate?
Had I somehow lost something essential?
Looking back now, I see that moment differently.
Not because mentors don’t have wisdom.
They often do.
But mentors are human.
They speak from their own experiences, blind spots, and limitations.
Sometimes their words reveal truth.
Sometimes they reveal disappointment.
Sometimes they reveal the discomfort that comes when a mentee begins thinking independently.
One of the quiet transitions of maturity is learning that honoring a mentor does not require surrendering your discernment.
Healthy mentoring should strengthen another person’s voice, not replace it.
It should cultivate wisdom, not dependence.
It should leave someone more confident in listening to God, not more fearful of disappointing people.
Ironically, becoming a coach has taught me this more than anything else.
My role isn’t to create people who think like me.
It’s to help people trust the wisdom God is developing within them.
I’m grateful for the mentors who have shaped my life.
Even the ones whose words wounded me.
Because healing from that experience forced me to ask a better question.
Whose voice has the final authority over my identity?
The answer changed everything.
A Question for Reflection
Has someone’s opinion ever caused you to question yourself? Looking back now, what did that experience ultimately teach you?
Keisa, like you, I once questioned myself because of a mentor’s opinion. He told me, “Ann, you’re just not strategic. You’re tactical, and that’s all you are.” His words cut deeply, and because I trusted him, I began doubting my abilities and professional value.
I did have room to grow strategically, but his delivery offered no path forward. Instead, it made one area for development seem like the sum of who I was. That experience taught me that feedback can either help people grow or cause harm. We must consider what is useful without allowing someone else’s judgment to define our potential.