When Someone Else Writes Your Introduction: A Reflection on Identity, Impact, and Faith
Oftentimes, when someone reads an introduction aloud, you sit there wondering, “Who are they talking about?” Because it sure doesn’t sound like you. I used to think those intros were a farce—maybe the person wrote their own bio and handed it over. But recently, I had a moment that shifted my perspective.
A woman I’ve known for over 20 years asked me to be part of an autism awareness conference. We’ve never really talked deeply. She was hosting the conference. We’ve shared fellowship here and there, attended the same church. She was never aware of the full scope of my work, including my ministries and the programs I’ve developed. Most of that, I’ve kept close to the chest.
When she reached out, I was open to the conversation. I’m a special needs advocate. I am also a mother of two children on the spectrum. I’ve been in this space for over 20 years, even before my firstborn. We had a rich, wide-ranging conversation. There was synergy. She shared about her wellness company, and I shared my insights as a consultant, advocate, and mother.
But when we got to the event date, I had to decline. I don’t work on the Sabbath—the seventh day. Even though it was at my home church, I had to honor that boundary.
Then she said, “Let me read you the introduction I prepared.” She had questions about my website. As she read, I realized she’d gone all the way back to my very first blog. She didn’t just ask me to speak because I was a familiar face; she did her research. She took the time to learn who I was, what I do, and what I bring to the table.
More people need to do this. Before inviting someone to speak on your podcast, take the time to get to know them. Do the same before asking them to contribute to your article. Learn their story. Understand their work.
She didn’t base her introduction on titles or recommendations. She pulled from the work I’ve done, the missions I’ve completed, and the support I’ve given others. And hearing her read it… it humbled me. I’ve lived it, yes. But I don’t always remember it all. I don’t always give myself credit.
I’m not trying to play humble pie. I do struggle with accepting compliments, but this was different. It was a genuine acknowledgment. And it placed me in awe.
I don’t have fancy titles. I’ve had people tell me I have no followers. I’ve been accused of trying to make a name for myself—but that’s never been my heart. My heart is to help others avoid the hell I’ve walked through. Years ago, Yahweh taught me not to expect accolades here on earth. So yes, it’s nice to be thanked—but I don’t demand it. I don’t expect it. The work I do belongs to Him.
Still, it’s okay to acknowledge what we’ve accomplished. Don’t come for me, y’all—I’m not saying we shouldn’t. But have you ever truly listened to how someone else sees you? I could never write an introduction like the one she wrote for me. I don’t see myself in that light.
When I asked her, “Who were you talking about?” she said, “You.” And when I asked where she got all that information, she said, “From your website. You wrote it.” And I said she was right. She pulled together a portrait of my work. She assembled my lessons. She captured my impact, from my first blog to the last post on that site.
Inwardly, I said, “Wow.” Outwardly, I said “Thank you.”
So I ask you: if someone else wrote your introduction, how would it sound? Would it reflect the glory of Elohim—or the glory of self? Would it shock you? Shame you? Inspire you?
I’m grateful for her. She surprised me in the most beautiful way. I may not speak at this event, but we’ll work out a future date. And I look forward to hearing the final version of that introduction.
Until then, I’ll keep doing the work I’ve been assigned unto Elohim, my Heavenly Father, Yahweh. The praise belongs to Him. I’m just the vessel. But I will take time to smell the roses, to give thanks, and to keep touching His children.
Take time to listen to how someone else sees you. It might just bring you back to life.