A woman, in a white robe, carrying a paintbrush dripping with rainbow colors, walks in quiet strength and divine purpose, set apart from a crowd chasing rage and performance—clothed in truth, creativity, and humility because she is called, chosen, and set apart, as it states on her robe. The sun rises behind her.

I used to think I wasn’t good enough.  

I was always either:

Too loud. Too quiet.  

Too pretty. Too plain.  

Too outspoken. Too reserved.  

Too much—and yet somehow, never enough.

I bent myself into shapes the world demanded.  

When they said I was too quiet, I became louder.  

When I spoke up, they told me to hush.  

When I was called ugly, I grew into beauty—then they hated me for it.  

When I was big, they said I was too fat.  

I lost weight, and suddenly I was “too skinny.”  

Always too much. Still never enough.

But recently, I had a revelation:  

It’s not that I’m not good enough.  

It’s that I’m not bad enough.

When Good Became Uncool

We live in a world where what was once called good is now mocked as naïve, and what was once called bad is celebrated as bold.  

People don’t reject me because I lack value.  

They reject me because I refuse to play the game of performative rebellion.  

I won’t rage for clicks.  

I won’t posture for power.  

I won’t dilute God’s glory to fit the algorithm.

They scroll past my posts about faith.  

They ignore the prayers, the scriptures, the invitations to healing.  

But they’ll share ragebait in a heartbeat—so they can flex their superiority with their comments.

As the prophet Isaiah warned:

“Woe to those who call evil good and good evil, who put darkness for light and light for darkness, who put bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter!”  

— Isaiah 5:20

The Cult of Cool and the Curse of Conceit

We’ve glamorized being “bad.”  

Not just rebellious—but bad at things.  

Bad at listening. Bad at loving. Bad at humility.  

And somehow, that’s become a badge of honor.

But when has anyone ever succeeded by being bad at something?  

Excellence requires goodness.  

Mastery demands discipline.  

And as a child of God, I’m called to reflect His glory—not my own defiance.

“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.” — Colossians 3:23

So, no, I won’t be bad.  

I won’t be careless with my calling.  

I won’t be reckless with my witness.

Sanctuaries Filled with Swagger

Even in the church, we’ve let the swagger in.  

The puffed-up chests. The unrepentant hearts.  

The ones who claim righteousness while reveling in rebellion.

Ezekiel saw this too:

"In addition to all your other detestable practices, you brought foreigners uncircumcised in heart and flesh into my sanctuary, desecrating my temple while you offered me food, fat and blood, and you broke my covenant."

— Ezekiel 44:7

We’ve let the unrepentant parade as prophets.  

We’ve mistaken charisma for character.  

And we’ve confused being a “badass” with being a disciple.

But God doesn’t need our bravado.  

He desires our obedience.  

He delights in our surrender.

I’d Rather Be Good

So let me be clear:  

I’d rather be good.  

Good at loving.  

Good at listening.  

Good at creating.  

Good at reflecting the heart of God.

But just as he who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do; for it is written: “Be holy, because I am holy.”

— 1 Peter 1:15-16

Because if I’m bad, people will think God is bad.  

And I refuse to tarnish His name for the sake of fitting in.

Let the world chase cool.  

I’ll chase Christ.

Let them scroll past my God posts.  

I’ll keep posting them anyway.

Let them say I’m too much.  

I’ll be abundantly more.

Because I was never meant to be bad enough.  

I was made to be set apart.

"Therefore come out from them and be separate, says the Lord, and touch no unclean thing; then I will welcome you,"

— 2 Corinthians 6:17

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world,  

 but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”  

 — Romans 12:2