The Defender in Me: The Heart of a Feeler, the Wisdom of Discernment

For as long as I can remember, I have had this deep, instinctive need to defend people.

Even when I knew they had done something wrong, I would still try my best to highlight their positives, to shift the focus away from their flaws.

I could never quite understand why I felt this urgent need to protect,

even when the truth was evident.

It wasn’t until I looked back on my own life that I started to piece it together.

This need to defend likely stemmed from my own childhood wounds,

the scars of being bullied, of having rumours spread about me that weren’t true.

I knew what it felt like to be misunderstood,

to be painted in a light that didn’t reflect who I really was.

And so, without realizing it, I became a shield for others,

hoping to prevent them from feeling the same pain I once did.

But there was something more to it.

I have always been a feeler. The kind of person who picks up on unspoken pain in the room, who senses when someone is struggling even before they say a word.

I feel deeply, both my own emotions and those of others.

And because of that, I can’t bear the thought of someone being torn down when I know there’s more to their story. My heart wants to soften the judgment, to create space for understanding, to remind others that we are all more than our worst moments.

At first glance, being someone who defends others may seem like a noble quality. It’s compassionate, empathetic, and deeply rooted in the desire for justice.

over time, I began to realize that my defence mechanism wasn’t always serving me,

or the people I was trying to protect.

Sometimes, in my effort to highlight the good, I would ignore the harm.

I would justify behaviours that needed accountability.

I would pour myself into proving someone's worth, even when they had clearly caused hurt. And in the process, I found myself exhausted,

carrying burdens that were never mine to carry.

That’s the challenge of being a feeler, when we don’t guard our hearts with wisdom,

we absorb more than we are meant to hold.

I had to learn that while defending is good, discerning is better.

In my journey of understanding this need within me, I turned to scripture.

Jesus Himself is called our Advocate (1 John 2:1), defending us before the Father despite our flaws. Yet, He never defended sin, He confronted it with grace and truth.

When the woman caught in adultery was brought before Him, He didn’t deny her wrongdoing, but He also didn’t condemn her.

Instead, He said, “Go and sin no more” (John 8:11).

That story taught me a valuable lesson: Love defends, but it also corrects.

Jesus didn't excuse sin, but He also didn’t allow the woman to be defined by it.

He balanced mercy with truth.

And isn’t that what a healthy defender does? A true protector doesn’t shield people from accountability but stands with them as they walk toward transformation.

So where does that leave me, the feeler who instinctively wants to defend?

It means I’ve had to learn to:

1. Pause and Pray – Before jumping to someone’s defence, I ask God for wisdom. Am I protecting out of love, or am I avoiding the discomfort of confrontation?

2. Speak Truth in Love – Ephesians 4:15 reminds us to speak the truth in love. Defending someone doesn’t mean ignoring the truth; it means helping them see it in a way that leads to growth.

3. Set Boundaries – Some people don’t need a defence; they need accountability. If I keep justifying harmful behaviours, I’m not truly helping them.

4. Trust God to be Their Defender – I am not responsible for proving someone’s worth. God already determined their value when He sent His Son to die for them. My job is to love, encourage, and sometimes step back and let Him work.

Looking back, I realize that my need to defend wasn’t just about others, it was about me.

It was about the little girl inside me who wanted someone to defend her when she was bullied, when lies were told about her, when she felt unseen.

And in defending others, I was subconsciously trying to heal that part of myself.

But true healing comes not from constantly proving people’s worth, but from knowing that my own worth, and theirs, is already secured in Christ.

I still have a heart that sees the good in people. I still want to highlight the light in others. But now, I do so with wisdom, with discernment, and with the understanding that sometimes, the best way to defend someone is not to shield them from the truth, but to walk with them through it.

And maybe, just maybe, in doing so, I am learning to defend myself too.