The other day, I returned home from 6AM pilates to find that the neighbour’s dog had pooed on our doormat. Our sweet, elderly neighbour had accidentally left him out on our shared balcony entrance all evening and early hours of the morning, and when nature called, he picked the doormat furthest from his home – ours. She felt awful about it and even bought us a brand-new, much nicer one, but that’s not really why I am writing this blog.
I tell you this because, metaphorically speaking, I have been that doormat.
I turn 28 in less than two months, and I’m not afraid to admit that for much of my life, I lived under what I now call doormat theology. Turn the other cheek. Be patient. Forgive and forget. Don’t be angry. Give people the benefit of the doubt. Slowly turned into: let people walk all over you, absorb every offense, tolerate lies, never push back, never speak up, never set boundaries, never say ‘enough.’
And so, I lived that way. I made excuses for people who used me, tolerated relationships that drained me, and allowed myself to be treated in ways that left me feeling empty, unappreciated, and, at times, completely unseen. Night after night, I’d get into bed feeling as violated as that dog-poo-covered doormat outside our door – used and disrespected. And I kept telling myself, this is what it means to love well. This is what it means to be kind. This is what it means to be like Jesus.
But here’s what I’ve learned: Jesus wasn’t a doormat.
Yes, He was full of love, grace, and mercy. But He also had boundaries. He walked away when He needed to. He didn’t entrust Himself to everyone (John 2:24-25). He flipped tables when necessary (Matthew 21:12-13). He called out hypocrisy (Matthew 23). He told one of his best friends, “Get behind me Satan” (Matthew 16:23). He wasn’t afraid to say, Enough this isn’t okay.
So why have we been taught that being Christ-like means making ourselves small, silent, and easily disposable? Why do we stay in relationships, communities, or environments that drain us spiritually, emotionally, and even physically – all in the name of being “nice”?
I feel a little embarrassed that it was not that long ago when I found out that the verse most often used to make me a doormat didn’t mean what I had always been told it did. The phrase “turn the other cheek” comes from Matthew 5:39, where Jesus says, “But I tell you, do not resist an evil person. If anyone slaps you on the right cheek, turn to them the other cheek also.” For years, I had been taught this as a call to passivity, as if Jesus was instructing us to endure mistreatment without response. But in its historical and cultural context, this was actually an act of defiance, not submission.
In Jesus’ time, a slap on the right cheek typically came from the back of the hand, a demeaning gesture meant to assert dominance over someone of lower status. By turning the other cheek, the person being struck was refusing to accept the role of an inferior. They were not retaliating with violence, but they also were not shrinking away in defeat. It was a way of maintaining dignity, of saying, “You can strike me again if you choose, but you will have to do it differently, treating me as an equal, not as someone beneath you.”Jesus wasn’t teaching blind endurance of abuse. He was teaching empowered, non-violent resistance, one that asserts worth without resorting to vengeance.
And yet, I am still relearning what it means to extend grace and show mercy. For so long, I thought those things meant letting people continue to take from me. That saying no, setting a boundary, or walking away was unkind. But I’m learning that real grace isn’t enabling, and real mercy isn’t self-abandonment. Grace can look like releasing someone while also refusing to be mistreated. Mercy can look like forgiveness without access.
But let’s be honest, this isn’t easy. Choosing not to be a doormat means disappointing people. It means losing some relationships. It means some people will call you difficult, selfish, “changed” and worst of all, nothing like Jesus (more accurately, their version of Jesus). And some days, it will feel like the people who actually value you for standing up for yourself are few and far between. But here’s the truth: there are people whose standard of you isn’t lying down. People who don’t see your worth in how much you tolerate, but in who you truly are.
And that’s why you have to keep being yourself – because the people looking for you, the ones meant to be in your life, can only find you when you stop shrinking yourself to fit where you don’t belong.
Many people expect you to be a doormat because as harsh as it sounds, that’s all they have ever been too. But your standard for yourself can’t be based on someone else’s lack of standards. You are responsible for how you allow yourself to be treated, and just because others have accepted less and tolerated more doesn’t mean you have to.
If you’ve ever felt like this, if you’ve been taught to keep the peace at the expense of your own, let this be your reminder: you were never called to be a doormat. You were called to be a disciple. You were called to wash feet, not for people to wipe their feet on you. There is a difference between serving with love and being taken advantage of, between offering grace and allowing yourself to be mistreated.
Let’s unlearn the bad theology that keeps us in cycles of burnout, bitterness, abuse and unnecessary suffering. Because love doesn’t mean letting yourself be walked over. And Jesus never asked you to be a doormat.
The Harmony Edit 