Do you like me?
So I have a question.
What’s up with all the “let us know how we did” surveys?
The “will you rate your transaction?” requests?
They show up everywhere—emails, texts, even QR codes staring up at you from paper receipts saying, “Don’t leave without telling us how you feel.”
(Side note: That feels like too much of a commitment for an oil change.)
Why does everyone from the oil change guy to my doctor want to know: Do you like me?
And when did that become a thing?
Here are just three from just the past few days:
How was your visit, Gregg? Share quick feedback.
How did we do, Gregg?
Hey Gregg! We’d love to hear what you think.
And listen—I get it. Feedback can be helpful. It can improve service and make things better.
All that said… doesn’t it sometimes feel like we’re living in a never-ending performance review? Everything gets scored.
Five stars if you’re being generous.
Four if things went smoothly.
Three if you’re honest.
One if it’s Monday and the app caught you at the wrong time.
And I can’t help but wonder if all this rating and ranking is shaping us, too.
How easily we start measuring our worth by external responses. How quickly we scan the room for approval. How accustomed we are to these questions playing in our brains: Am I doing okay? Do you like me?
Most of us learned these questions early. And we’ve been carrying them around ever since.
But beneath all that noise, there’s a deeper truth that grounds us. You are not a product to be reviewed, a performance to be scored. You are not loved because you did well.
Before you impress anyone.
Before you get it right (or wrong, for that matter).
Before anyone is keeping score, you are loved.
Loved because you belong to God.
As far as I can tell, that’s the kind of love Jesus keeps pointing us toward—a grace that doesn’t wait for feedback, a belonging that doesn’t depend on how many stars you get.
So maybe when the next “How did we do?” pops up on your phone this week, let it be a reminder—not just to rate the service, but to remember the deeper truth about yourself.
You don’t have to earn your worth, prove your value, or even wonder if you measure up to the expectations of someone else’s pop-up survey.
You already are—loved.
Much love,
Pastor Gregg
