We all experience it—that whisper in the back of our minds when we step into something new:

“Who do you think you are?”

Whether it’s a promotion, a calling, or a role we never imagined for ourselves, imposter syndrome shows up uninvited. And Scripture gives us a striking example of this in Israel’s first king: Saul.

When the prophet Samuel first anoints Saul, he doesn’t see a king in the mirror. He sees a nobody from a nobody tribe.

“Am I not a Benjamite, from the smallest tribe of Israel, and is not my clan the least of all the clans of the tribe of Benjamin?”
—1 Samuel 9:21

Even after being chosen, Saul hides when it’s time to step into the spotlight.

“But when they looked for him, he was not to be found… he has hidden himself among the supplies.”
—1 Samuel 10:21–22

This is classic imposter syndrome: a divine calling met with self-doubt. But as Saul begins to step into his role, he gains confidence. He wins battles. He leads. He starts to believe he really is the king.

The Tipping Point

There’s a moment when healthy confidence begins to morph into self-importance. Saul gradually stops listening to Samuel—the one who first saw greatness in him, who guided him, corrected him, and even grieved over him.

“You have rejected the word of the Lord, and the Lord has rejected you as king over Israel.”
—1 Samuel 15:26

In his early days, Saul was humble and teachable. But later, when told to wait for Samuel before offering a sacrifice, he rushed ahead (1 Samuel 13:8–14). When instructed to utterly destroy Amalek, he kept what he thought was best (1 Samuel 15).

His confidence turned into arrogance, and his crown became a curse.

I Know That Tipping Point

I started my first business in my mid-20s—a carpet cleaning company. I grew up learning about flooring while working for my dad, who owned a carpet retail store. I had a foundation, sure—but I still had a lot to learn.

And in those early days, when I had almost nothing, I had almost nothing to lose. That made me eager to learn. I listened to the people who were ahead of me. I studied. I borrowed wisdom. I hustled. And God blessed those efforts.

But with success comes a quiet temptation: the belief that I am the reason for the success.

Part of that belief was true. I did work hard. I made smart moves. But it wasn’t the whole truth.

Over time, it became harder to remember all the people who helped me. I began to see the business as my achievement alone. I was too enamored with my own growth to see the hand of God guiding me—putting the right people in my path, offering wisdom through others at just the right moments.

I zigged when I could have zagged, and that made all the difference.

But success started to blind me. I began to see myself only through the eyes of others—those who praised me. And I had a choice to make:

Would I see myself through the flattery of fans or the honesty of mentors?

Which is worse?
Doubting I’m capable of the role I’ve been called to—or believing I’m too good to take advice?

David and the Better Way

Where Saul hardened his heart, David took another path.

David, too, was anointed king while still a nobody—just a shepherd boy in the fields (1 Samuel 16:11–13). He, too, had moments of triumph and danger. And David, too, came frighteningly close to prideful self-destruction when he stole another man’s wife and ordered his death (2 Samuel 11).

But here’s the difference: When the prophet Nathan confronted David, he didn’t argue. He didn’t double down. He didn’t spiral further.

“Then David said to Nathan, ‘I have sinned against the Lord.’”
—2 Samuel 12:13

David humbled himself. He repented. He accepted correction.

“A broken and contrite heart you, God, will not despise.”
—Psalm 51:17

He didn’t let pride write the rest of his story.

A Cautionary Tale

If you’re stepping into something new and feel the weight of imposter syndrome, take heart—that may be a sign you’re on sacred ground.

And if you’ve already stepped into success, remember: the more confidence grows, the more you must guard against forgetting the help, the grace, and the voices that got you here.

Saul’s downfall didn’t begin with failure—it began with forgetting.

When confidence meets success, will I still choose humility?