Skip to main content

“You Can’t Change The People Around You — But You Can Change The People Around You”

 You can’t change the people around you. But you can change the people around you.

At first glance, that sounds like something gone wrong on the keyboard. But sit with it for a second—it’s actually where a lot of growth—and a lot of peace—begins.

Yesterday, I found myself wrestling with a different idea—the kind of advice we hear all the time: “You’re perfect just the way you are.”

If I’m being honest, I don’t think that holds up. Because if we were already everything we’re meant to be, there’d be no need to grow, to stretch, to become more.

But somewhere in the middle of that tension, a different message kept showing up. Maybe it was just good timing… or maybe it was the Sirius XM Billy Joel station finding its way back into rotation. Either way, the words stuck: “I love you just the way you are… don’t go changing to try and please me…”Billy Joel

And that hits differently. It’s not saying, “Stay exactly as you are forever.” It’s saying, “You don’t have to perform to be valued.” Maybe that’s the balance we’re actually looking for. We’re not called to stay the same. But we’re also not called to change just to fit someone else’s expectations.

We all have people in our lives we wish we could “adjust” a little. Make them kinder. More patient. More understanding. And if we’re honest, we’ve probably spent more time than we’d like to admit trying to do just that.

But here’s the truth we run into eventually: people only change when they decide to. Not when we push harder. Not when we explain better. Not when we carry the weight for them.

That can be frustrating, but it’s also freeing. While you can’t change someone’s heart, you can take a closer look at who you’re walking alongside.

It can get tricky. Changing the people around you doesn’t mean building a circle of “yes people” who agree with everything you say. That’s not growth—that’s comfort. And too much comfort can quietly make you smaller, not better. At the same time, constantly surrounding yourself with tension and conflict doesn’t make you stronger either. It just wears you down.

So what are we actually looking for? Not just peace. Not just challenge. But the right people.

People who encourage you and challenge you. People who support you and sharpen you.
People who tell you the truth—even when it’s uncomfortable—but do it with care, not ego.

Because “iron sharpening iron” only works when both sides are willing. Otherwise, it’s just friction without growth.

Shared values matter too. You don’t need everyone to think exactly like you, but if you don’t stand on any common ground—faith, integrity, purpose—you’re not building each other up. You’re just pulling in different directions.

Even Jesus didn’t surround Himself with perfect people—but He did surround Himself with people who were willing. Willing to walk, to learn, to grow.

Sometimes the most honest thing you can do isn’t to fix a relationship—it’s to recognize what it is, and what it isn’t.

Not every door needs to be slammed. But not every door needs to stay wide open either.

Before we start redrawing the circle around us, there’s one more question worth asking: What kind of person am I within the circle I already have? Am I someone who encourages growth—or avoids hard conversations? Do I sharpen others—or just expect to be sharpened? Am I bringing the kind of honesty, faith, and integrity I’m hoping to receive?

This isn’t just about choosing better people. It’s about being one. We don’t just surround ourselves with influence— we are influence.

So no—you can’t change the people around you. But you can choose people who won’t let you stay the same… and commit to being someone who does the same for them.

In the end, you don’t become what you intend—you become what you surround yourself with… and what you choose to bring into it.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Inclusion - Giving Students What They Need to Succeed

I officially surrendered my man card the day I said, “I do,” back in 1987.  Apparently, there are no returns. Yesterday I wept in my office. Not the dignified, single-tear kind of weeping. I’m talking full-on, reach-for-the-Kleenex, thank-God-the-door-is-closed weeping. We had just told a parent—whose child is on the spectrum—that we believe in her son, and we want him to stay at our school. Those words cost us something. They cost planning. They cost resources. They cost energy. But they didn’t cost us our mission. And here’s the irony: this conversation came on the heels of another one where I had to tell a “potential family” that we didn’t believe our school was the right fit for their children. Same day. Same office. Same principal. Two completely different outcomes. If you’ve ever wondered whether there’s an internal battle between a principal’s head and heart, let me assure you—it’s not theoretical. It’s daily. And sometimes it’s exhausting. Like most of my blogs, there’s a b...

On Humanity, Rumor, and the Discipline of Decency

Every so often, the world reminds us, sometimes gently, sometimes with a jolt, that God’s plan for us still runs through the old, unfashionable virtues: love, charity, humility, friendship. Not as slogans. As practices. Lately, the reminder hasn’t come through a clear, verified tragedy so much as through the way we react to rumor, outrage, and one another. In an age where headlines race ahead of facts and partisanship outpaces compassion, the simplest test of our humanity may be this: Do we refuse to cheer the suffering, real or rumored, of those we disagree with? I think about friendship across differences. Actor James Woods once said of director Rob Reiner that political differences never stood in the way of their love and respect for each other. Reiner fought for Woods when others wouldn’t. They worked together. They remained friends. That’s how it is in the real world, or at least how it should be. You don’t have to agree to stay human. I also think about families who live with add...

Reigniting the Fire: From Embers to Flame

  There’s a moment in an interview with Michael Franti that’s stayed with me. He spoke about how a roaring fire, once reduced to embers, doesn’t need much to come alive again, just a gentle breath, a little attention, a whisper of wind. And suddenly, the flame returns. That image, embers waiting patiently for someone to believe in their potential, feels deeply personal. Franti once said, “I think of love as an action. Finding something that’s outside of yourself, to serve someone else’s soul, helping to ignite someone else’s spirit, to bring about ease of heart and joy, serenity in somebody else.” That quote reminds me that reigniting a fire, whether in us or in others, is about connection. It’s about showing up, listening, and offering warmth when someone feels cold inside. Not long ago, I found myself in a place I never expected to be. The fire inside me had dimmed. Life hadn’t knocked me down in one dramatic blow; it had chipped away, little by little. Leadership challen...