Should your opinion matter to me?

It took eleven years of "Jonathan, you are an excellent writer" from teachers to build my confidence.
It took less than two months of my senior year to crush it.

It took four years of "Excellent work, Jonathan" from professors to rebuild my confidence.
It took less than a week in my new job to destroy it.

The grade twelve teacher was an angry, man-hating, feminist.
The boss, it turns out, was an idiot.
But does that make them wrong?

Draw for me a line in the sand that marks where the defense of one's gifts becomes pride. Whose opinions can I ignore? Who am I to judge the validity of opinions of others? By allowing myself to judge, do I doom myself to the pretentiousness that I see in so many writers, artists, and photographers.

Maybe someone just doesn't "get" my work, and thus their negative opinion of it really isn't valid. Or maybe my work really is crap and the positive remarks have been either patronizing or ignorant.


In yesterday's church service, we discussed the idea that each of us had been called to a certain role in life. I believe it, but that doesn't mean that I know how it's supposed to unfold for me. Am I gifted as a writer? Am I called to write for a purpose? What could that purpose possibly be?