Chasing Harvard

And Becoming Myself

I was rambling along, words splashing from my mouth like a cup of water shaken by a two-year-old child.

Along the way, I decided to drop a reference to “Harvard Business School” and was suddenly cut short.

"Can I stop you right there?" Adam asked me politely.

"Um…yes…sure!" I ground my rambling sentence to a strained stop.

I was sitting in my parked car, staring out over a parking lot bustling with people coming and going. Reverse lights kicked on and cars gently pulled in and out. There was movement every which way, much like my mind as it sought to explain and process out loud the chaos in my mind.

There was silence for just a moment. I heard myself breathe in and out.

It was time to listen and hear feedback.

When the dimpled golf ball gently rolled and softly clinked down in the cup, the crowd roared, and 27-year-old Scottie Sheffler finally broke his calm exterior and flashed a gigantic smile.

He was now the winner of The Masters.

A few hours later, a shiny luxury wristwatch gleaming on his arm, he sat down enveloped by the iconic green jacket, breathed a deep sigh, and began answering questions in front of a small crowd of reporters.

Someone raised their hand and asked how he had been feeling before his final round.

"I was sitting around with my buddies this morning, I was a bit overwhelmed," the 27-year-old Scottie said, reflecting as he became the 10th golfer in history to win two green jackets in three years.

"I told them, 'I wish I didn't want to win as badly as did I or as badly as I do.' I think it would make the mornings easier. I love winning. I hate losing. I really do. And when you're here in the biggest moments, when I'm sitting there with the lead on Sunday, I really, really want to win badly."

"My buddies told me this morning, my victory was secure on the cross," he said. "And that's a pretty special feeling; to know that I'm secure forever and it doesn't matter if I win this tournament or lose this tournament. My identity is secure forever."

Growing up homeschooled, I put incredible pressure on myself to prove I was as good as or better than others in my peer groups. I believed that educational accolades would confirm my competency. But when I skipped some “bigger and better” schools and went to a small Bible college in Kentucky, I subtly locked in a belief I was settling and sacrificing.

During these days on a beautiful campus, I wrestled with how my faith and gifting around leadership and vision fit together. I struggled for years, watching friends and acquaintances go off to Ivy League institutions, attend business school, and become founders and executives.

I believed I was sitting on the sidelines, watching the elite players do the real thing. I thought I was just going to end up being the guy who only read books and never get into the action.

It's around then that I picked up a habit I'd carry with me for over a decade until I was confronted in a parking lot: mentioning and dropping into conversations about my desire to go to Harvard Business School.

What had started as a great desire to learn and an inspiring conversation at age 18 with a HBS graduate had turned into a tool of despising what God was doing in my life. During the following years, I was slowly coming to the realization that the defining characteristics of my life shouldn’t be about outcomes or degrees, but my habit remained.

The habit had remained all these years until my friend Adam stopped me in my tracks as I was speaking with him and asking him for wisdom. I had dropped the line for the third time in three different conversations about Harvard Business School.

“Tim, why is this desire to go to school such a meaningful signal for you?” he asked me.

I knew why: I despised the seemingly “small things” in my life, believing external validation like a Harvard degree would elevate what I’d done and was going to do.

I couldn’t have been further from the truth.

During my early years post-college, I began to explore the intersection of faith and career, seeking to understand how my talents and passions could be used for a greater purpose. I read hundreds of books, attended dozens of conferences, and sought out countless mentors who could guide me on my journey.

And slowly but surely a few pieces started to fall into place.

I realized that my calling in life isn't to be more like someone else, or to be defined by certain outcomes or degrees hanging on a wall – it's to be more like myself. I was created to embrace the unique gifts and talents that God has given me, and to use them for His glory.

Those things might not always look “big,” but when I humbly offer what I have — even my ambition — it can be used in incredible ways.

It has taken years of wrestling, of questioning, of seeking. There have been dark moments of doubt and uncertainty, times when I wondered if I was on the right path. Even still, it’s not easy. I’m holding on to the belief that God had a plan for my life – even if I can’t always see it clearly in the moment.

When I watched Scottie Scheffler talk about his identity while wearing the famous green jacket, I realized that I'd been wrestling with the same questions, the same doubts and the same insecurities.

I'd been striving to find my identity in my accomplishments, the approval of others, and the pursuits that I thought would bring me fulfillment. A framed print on the wall seemed to be the validation I needed, the confirmation that I worth something.

But all along, my identity had already been secured. My worth, my value, my purpose — they were all rooted in something far greater than myself. No singular accomplishment, no luxury possession, and no Ivy League degree would change that.

And with that realization came a sense of freedom and a sense of peace that I'd been searching for all along.

I realized that my calling in life is not to be more like someone else. My calling in life is to be more like Tim, emerging more fully as who I've uniquely been created to be.

When I watched that press conference after the Master’s, Scottie’s words struck a chord deep within me.

Here was a man at the top of his game, a champion. And yet, in the midst of the pressure and the spotlight, he found his anchor in something far greater than himself.

His identity wasn't tied to his performance. It was rooted in his faith, in the knowledge that his worth and value were already secured. And with that foundation, he was free to pursue excellence, to strive for greatness – not out of a need to prove himself, but out of a desire to glorify God with the gifts he'd been given. He embraced both ambition and steadiness.

This journey of self-discovery, of wrestling with faith and identity and purpose – it's not an easy one. There are moments of confusion, of uncertainty, of feeling like we're sitting on the sidelines while everyone else is out there living their best lives.

We're all seeking to understand who we are and why we're here. And the beauty of it is that we don't have to have it all figured out. We don't have to have all the answers.

What we do have is a God who loves us (and I believe uniquely you), who created us with intention and purpose. A God who is always with us, guiding us and shaping us into the individuals He created us to be.

So as we navigate the confusion, as we wrestle with the tensions of life, we can hold fast to that truth. Like Scottie, we can anchor ourselves in the knowledge that our identities are secure, that our worth and value are not up for debate.

We can embrace the unique gifts and talents that God has given each one of us, using them to bring light and hope and joy to a world that so desperately needs it.

Because at the end of the day, that's what we're here for – to love God, to love others, and to live out the purpose that He has for our lives.

When we embrace who we are and who we were created to be, that's when we truly come alive.