What is Existentialism?

Control, Image Management, and the Heart: Reflections on the Porter Interview with Application to Christian Counseling The recent viral interview featuring Katie Porter offers a revealing case study in how our internal orientation manifests in public moments of pressure. When journalist Julie Watts posed a straightforward electoral question regarding Porter's appeal to Trump-supporting voters, the response illuminated not merely political calculation, but something deeper about self-perception and the perceived right to control one's narrative (CBS News, 2025). The Pattern of Response What merits examination is not the substance of Porter's political position, but rather the behavioral pattern that emerged when her preferred framing encountered resistance. The progression is instructive: initial dismissiveness of the question's premise, visible frustration when pressed for clarification, accusations that the interviewer was being "unnecessarily argumentative," and ultimately the threat to terminate the interview itself with the notable phrase, "I don't want this all on camera" (Commander, 2025). This last statement is particularly revealing. The concern was not with the substance of the exchange, but with its visibility—with how she would be perceived. The subsequent emergence of footage from a July 2021 video meeting, wherein Porter berated a staffer in profane terms for appearing in her video frame during a conversation with then-Energy Secretary Jennifer Granholm, suggests a consistent preoccupation: the management and control of her public image (Mason, 2025). In that incident, when a staffer attempted to correct a factual error Porter had made about electric vehicles, Porter's response was immediate and harsh: "Get out of my f***ing shot! You also were in my shot before that. Stay out of my shot" (Fox News, 2025). What This Reveals About Internal Orientation From a Christian anthropological perspective, such patterns point to what Scripture identifies as fundamental orientations of the heart. The response to relatively mild journalistic inquiry—standard fare for any political candidate—revealed an individual operating from what might be termed a posture of self-sovereignty. The assumption appears to be that interactions should conform to one's preferred script, and that deviation from this constitutes not merely inconvenience, but a form of violation. The anger directed at both the journalist and the staff member emerges not from any genuine mistreatment, but from the thwarting of personal will and the exposure of vulnerabilities one wished to conceal. This is the essence of what Scripture describes as pride: the heart's insistence on its own preeminence and its resistance to anything that threatens the carefully constructed self-image. As Proverbs warns, "Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall" (Proverbs 16:18, New International Version). The Scriptural Contrast The characteristics on display stand in marked contrast to the fruits of the Spirit delineated in Galatians 5:22-23—particularly patience, kindness, gentleness, and self-control. Consider the specific inversions: Patience versus Reactive Anger: Where Scripture commends those who are "slow to anger" (Proverbs 14:29), the Porter exchanges reveal hair-trigger defensiveness at the slightest challenge. The biblical vision is of a person sufficiently secure in their identity before God that external challenges need not produce such volatility. "Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, because human anger does not produce the righteousness that God desires" (James 1:19-20). Gentleness versus Harshness: Colossians 3:12 calls believers to "clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience." The treatment of both interviewer and staff member demonstrates precisely the opposite—a hardness of demeanor that reflects an internal hardness of heart. Paul instructs Timothy that "the Lord's servant must not be quarrelsome but must be kind to everyone" (2 Timothy 2:24), a standard that applies with particular force to those in positions of authority or influence. Humility versus Self-Protection: Perhaps most significantly, Philippians 2:3-4 instructs us to "do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others." The thread running through both incidents is an acute concern for self—self-presentation, self-image, self-vindication—rather than consideration for others or commitment to truthful exchange. Self-Control versus Unrestrained Expression: The profane outburst at a subordinate, captured on video, reveals what Proverbs 25:28 describes: "Like a city whose walls are broken through is a person who lacks self-control." The biblical ideal is mastery over one's passions; what we observed was mastery by them. Similarly, Proverbs 29:11 notes that "fools give full vent to their rage, but the wise bring calm in the end." The Deeper Diagnostic What these episodes ultimately reveal is a heart fundamentally oriented toward self rather than toward God or neighbor. This is not merely a political observation or a personality critique; it is a spiritual diagnosis. Jesus taught that "out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaks" (Matthew 12:34, English Standard Version). Moments of pressure and frustration reveal what truly governs the heart—and in this case, what emerged was not grace under pressure but rather the assertion of personal prerogative. The Christian alternative is not merely better behavior, but transformed affections—a heart that has been reoriented from self-sovereignty to glad submission to divine sovereignty. This produces not merely modified external conduct, but a different internal posture: one characterized by security in God's assessment rather than anxiety about public perception, by concern for truth rather than control of narrative, and by patience with opposition rather than anger at challenge. Application to Christian Counseling: The Counselor's Internal Life The Porter incidents provide a sobering reminder for those of us in the counseling profession, particularly Christian counselors who profess to guide others toward spiritual and psychological wholeness. If we are honest, we must acknowledge that the same tendencies toward self-protection, image management, and reactive defensiveness can manifest within the therapeutic relationship—often in more subtle but equally destructive ways. The Danger of the Unexamined Heart Christian counseling literature consistently emphasizes that the counselor's primary instrument is the self (Clinton & Ohlschlager, 2002). This reality demands rigorous self-examination. When a client challenges our competence, questions our judgment, or fails to improve despite our best efforts, what emerges from our hearts? Do we respond with gentle curiosity and humble acknowledgment of our limitations, or do we subtly deflect, defend, or withdraw? The heart issues displayed in the Porter videos—the need for control, the anxiety about being perceived negatively, the harsh response to correction—can manifest in therapeutic relationships through various mechanisms. A counselor might subtly steer sessions away from topics that expose their own insecurities. They might become defensive when a client questions their approach. They might harbor resentment toward "difficult" clients who do not validate their competence. They might prioritize their own emotional comfort over the client's genuine needs. Counter-Transference and Heart Orientation Psychodynamic theory has long recognized counter-transference—the counselor's emotional reactions to the client—as a significant factor in therapeutic work. From a Christian perspective, counter-transference often reveals the orientation of our hearts. When we experience irritation, defensiveness, or the need to control a session, these reactions frequently point to deeper issues: pride, fear of exposure, or a heart that has subtly shifted from God-centered security to performance-based validation. As Crabb (1977) articulated in his seminal work on biblical counseling, the fundamental human problem is a heart oriented toward meeting its own needs independently of God. Christian counselors are not immune to this dynamic. We can easily slip into deriving our sense of worth from therapeutic "success" rather than from our identity in Christ. When this occurs, clients become means to our own ends—sources of validation rather than image-bearers to be served. The Necessity of Ongoing Spiritual Formation The apostle Paul's instruction to Timothy, "Watch your life and doctrine closely. Persevere in them, because if you do, you will save both yourself and your hearers" (1 Timothy 4:16), applies with particular force to Christian counselors. We must "watch our lives"—engage in the difficult work of examining our own hearts, acknowledging our own brokenness, and submitting ourselves to the same transformative process we encourage in our clients. This demands several spiritual disciplines: Regular Self-Examination: We must cultivate the practice of ruthless honesty about our own reactions, motivations, and patterns. This might involve journaling after difficult sessions, seeking supervision that addresses not merely technique but heart issues, or engaging in our own counseling to address unresolved wounds that might compromise our work. Confession and Accountability: The temptation for counselors—like political leaders—is to present a carefully curated version of ourselves, one that maintains professional credibility while concealing struggle. Yet James 5:16 instructs us to "confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed." Christian counselors need safe relationships where they can acknowledge their failures, pride, and ongoing sanctification needs without fear of professional repercussion. Cultivating Humility: The most effective Christian counselors are those who have been broken of their illusions of self-sufficiency. They recognize that any good they accomplish flows not from their competence but from God's grace working through them. This humility produces a therapeutic posture fundamentally different from one rooted in the need for control or validation. It allows for genuine curiosity about the client's experience, comfort with ambiguity, and patience with slow progress. Dependence on the Spirit: Perhaps most fundamentally, Christian counselors must continually return to the reality that transformation—whether in ourselves or our clients—is ultimately the Spirit's work, not ours. This theological truth should produce both freedom and humility. Freedom, because we need not bear the burden of being saviors to our clients. Humility, because any genuine change that occurs cannot be credited to our brilliance or technique. Creating Space for Grace The contrast between self-sovereignty and Spirit-dependence manifests practically in how we conduct ourselves in the counseling room. A counselor operating from self-sovereignty will subtly communicate that the client must meet certain expectations to maintain the counselor's approval. Sessions become performances rather than sanctuaries. The counselor's anxiety about being inadequate or incompetent creates subtle pressure on the client to validate the counselor's worth through improvement. Conversely, a counselor whose identity is secure in Christ can create genuine space for grace. They can sit comfortably with a client's anger, doubt, or stagnation without becoming defensive or detached. They can acknowledge their own limitations and mistakes without their entire professional identity collapsing. They can celebrate client progress without needing it to bolster their own sense of worth. They can engage in confrontation when necessary without it becoming an assertion of personal dominance. This is the fruit of a heart that has been progressively freed from the tyranny of self-concern—the same freedom that was conspicuously absent in the Porter incidents. For Christian counselors, the call is clear: We cannot lead others toward heart transformation if our own hearts remain captive to pride, self-protection, and image management. Conclusion Public moments of stress serve as windows into private realities of the heart. What the Porter interviews reveal is a cautionary tale about the tyranny of self-concern and the bondage of image management. For those who profess Christian faith, they serve as a reminder that our calling is to something fundamentally different—to decrease that Christ might increase, to serve rather than to be served, and to find our identity not in carefully curated public persona but in the unshakeable reality of being known and loved by God. For Christian counselors specifically, these incidents should prompt serious self-reflection. We must ask ourselves: Do we exhibit the same patterns of defensiveness, control, and harsh reactivity when our competence is questioned or our preferences are challenged? Or have we cultivated the patience, gentleness, humility, and self-control that Scripture identifies as marks of spiritual maturity? The answer to these questions will largely determine whether we serve as instruments of genuine transformation or merely purveyors of technique who inadvertently reinforce the very patterns of self-sovereignty from which our clients need liberation. The alternative to the brittle and reactive posture we witnessed is not merely better self-management or emotional regulation. It is the deep heart change that comes from progressive sanctification—from allowing the gospel to penetrate beneath our defenses and reorient our affections from self to Christ. This is the work to which all Christians are called, but it takes on particular urgency for those of us who presume to guide others on this same journey. References CBS News. (2025, October 8). Katie Porter threatens to walk out of CBS interview after question on Trump supporters[Video]. https://www.cbsnews.com/video/katie-porter-threatens-walk-out-cbs-interview-question-trump-supporters/ Clinton, T., & Ohlschlager, G. (2002). Competent Christian counseling: Foundations and practice of compassionate soul care. WaterBrook Press. Commander, A. (2025, October 8). Katie Porter faces backlash after threatening to walk out of TV interview. Newsweek. https://www.newsweek.com/katie-porter-faces-backlash-after-threatening-to-walk-out-of-tv-interview-10844261 Crabb, L. (1977). Effective biblical counseling. Zondervan. English Standard Version. (2001). Crossway Bibles. Fox News. (2025, October 9). Katie Porter caught on video screaming 'Get out of my f-----g shot!' at staffer during 2021 call. https://www.foxnews.com/politics/katie-porter-caught-video-screaming-get-out-my-shot-staffer-during-2021-call Mason, M. (2025, October 8). Katie Porter tears into staffer in new video. Politico. https://www.politico.com/news/2025/10/08/katie-porter-tears-into-staffer-new-video-00598942 New International Version. (2011). Zondervan. (Original work published 1978)

  My dad died last week. I had been anticipating it for a while. His body had been slowly failing for years—Parkinson’s disease, congestive heart failure, and perhaps things we never fully understood. His death wasn’t a shock, but it still shattered something inside me. Because outside of my wife, my best friend died. He was more than a father. He was a steady presence, a quiet protector, a man who helped me steer clear of destructive patterns common to many young men—not by shame or force, but by showing up. He used to lean against my bedroom doorframe at night and just ask what was on my mind. No pressure, no preaching. Just presence. We’d talk about what I was afraid of. What I didn’t understand. What I hoped for. He played catch with me almost every evening the weather allowed. He came to every basketball game and every baseball game. I can still see him sitting in the stands—arms crossed, calm smile on his face—rarely yelling, just there. I never had to wonder if he was proud of me. I knew. He carried himself with a kindness and gentleness that made me feel steady. He didn’t draw attention to himself. He didn’t try to be impressive. But there was a quiet strength in him—a calm that helped anchor me when I needed it. He wasn’t loud or forceful, but he was consistent, present, and kind. He was strong in the ways that mattered most. He lead me as I learned to live into who God made me to be. They say a heart attack took him. But it was years of sickness that prepared me for it. Still, when he went, he went quickly and without pain. For that, I’m deeply grateful. My dad grew up on a small dairy farm. He’d tell stories of a fast-running stream, of rolling hills, of a slingshot mishap that earned him more trouble than he planned. He talked about a legalistic church that pushed him away from the Lord in his youth—and about the wandering that followed. He had a slightly hippie-ish streak, a rebellious edge softened by curiosity and kindness. And then came a near-death experience—one that turned his heart back to God. That moment changed the course of his life. It led to a 55-year marriage with my mom, and a life marked by faithfulness, loyalty, quiet dedication, and deep love—for both creation and the Creator. He also loved children’s literature. He read me E.B. White, Charles Schulz, and Donald Duck comics. He wrote magazine stories, and even a book where I was the main character. He delighted in those stories, not just because they were fun, but because they held beauty, humor, and truth. That love of words was one of the many ways he poured himself into my life. He didn’t just tell stories. He lived one—a good one. And I got to be part of it. The Kindness of Others—and the Limits of Words Since his passing, people have been incredibly kind. Friends and colleagues—many of them counselors, as I’m at a residency training other therapists—have offered their support. They’ve told me they’re sorry. They’ve asked what they can do. They’ve told me they’re praying. They’ve sat beside me in the quiet. It’s all well-meant, and I am deeply thankful. But there’s a strange truth about grief: I don’t need people to be sorry. They haven’t done anything wrong. And honestly, I don’t want to tell the story of what happened another fifty times. I don’t want to narrate his death. I want someone to sit with me in the weight of it. What I need most is something no words can give. I need presence. When my strength falters, I need others to be strong beside me—not to talk me out of my pain, but to stand in it with me. To point me quietly back to Jesus. Not with advice or even encouragement. But with silence, compassion, and presence. And honestly? Many of the people around me have done this well. They didn’t rush in with sermons or platitudes. They didn’t minimize the pain. They didn’t fix it. They stayed. Their kindness taught me what we often forget—even as counselors. What Mourning People Really Need Grief doesn’t ask for answers. It doesn’t require theology. It demands witness—someone to acknowledge the depth of loss and not turn away. And yet, many of us, even those trained to sit with sorrow, still rush in to make things better. We offer clichés. We fumble with tasks. We do something to avoid doing nothing. But here’s the truth: in grief, nothing is often the most powerful thing you can offer. What to Do When Someone Is Mourning Grief is not something to be solved. It’s something to be witnessed, honored, and carried. When someone you love is mourning, your job is not to fix it. It’s to show up and stay. Here’s what that actually looks like: 1. Be Present—Not Performative Don’t try to be profound. Don’t force conversation. Just be present. Sit down. Stay longer than is comfortable. When you don’t know what to say, don’t say anything. 2. Offer Simple, Specific Help “Let me know if you need anything” puts the burden back on the grieving. Instead, offer something tangible: “Can I bring you a meal? Would Tuesday work?” “Can I watch the kids for two hours?” “Would a walk together help?” 3. Acknowledge the Loss—Then Let Silence Do the Work You can say “I’m so sorry.” You don’t need to ask for details. Retelling a loved one’s death can retraumatize. Let the grieving person offer what they want, when they want. 4. Avoid Platitudes and Preaching Don’t say “He’s in a better place” or “Everything happens for a reason.” Even quoting Scripture can feel like a dismissal when not invited. The truth of God is not the same as the timing of God. Be sensitive. 5. Be the One Who Remembers Grief doesn’t follow a calendar. The day of the funeral isn’t the end—it’s the beginning. Text them one month later. Say their loved one’s name. Show up again. And again. 6. Pray Without Preaching Yes, pray. But don’t pray the pain away. Sit with it. Welcome God into it. Let your prayer be, “Lord, be near.” Why Presence Matters: Because That’s What Jesus Gave Why does it matter that we offer presence instead of platitudes? Why resist the urge to fill silence with words or offer help only when asked? Because this is exactly how Jesus met those in mourning. His actions weren’t reactive. They were incarnational. Jesus didn’t just perform miracles—He entered sorrow. He saw people in their pain, understood what that pain cost them, and moved toward them with compassion before they even knew what to ask. One of the most powerful examples of this is found in Luke 7, when Jesus encounters a widow whose only son has died. She didn’t plead. She didn’t have to. Her grief was enough. Biblical Reflection: Jesus and the Widow of Nain Luke 7:11–17 – Compassion That Restores a Life Jesus is walking into the small village of Nain when He sees a funeral procession. A widow is burying her only son. She says nothing. She doesn’t even know He’s coming. But Jesus sees her—and everything that her son’s death represents. In first-century Jewish society, widows were some of the most vulnerable people. Without a husband or son, a woman had no legal standing, no source of provision, no social safety net. This woman wasn’t just grieving her child. She was facing total collapse—financial, relational, communal. Darrell Bock notes: “The son’s death meant more than personal grief. It meant social death. It meant poverty, marginalization, and abandonment” (Bock, 1994, p. 213). Jesus doesn’t wait for her to call out. He moves first. He sees her, and Luke tells us He is “moved with compassion” (v. 13). The Greek word used is splagchnizomai—a gut-wrenching, deeply felt compassion. Jesus isn’t just noticing. He is feeling with her. He touches the bier—an unclean act under Jewish law—because grief never kept Him at a distance. He enters it. And when He raises the son, Luke records: “Jesus gave him to his mother” (v. 15). He restores her—not just her son, but her future. R. Kent Hughes writes: “Jesus not only raised her son, He raised her future” (Hughes, 1998, p. 249). This is the model: Jesus saw the depth of loss, and He entered it. He didn’t rush to fix. He didn’t avoid the mess. He stood in it, touched it, and restored from within it. That is our call too. For the Christian Counseling Community This is where we can grow—not just in theory, but in practice. In the presence of real grief, people don’t need advice. They need presence. Not polished words. Not clever insight. Not strategic support. They need us to stay. To sit in sacred silence. To bring Jesus not by explaining Him—but by embodying His nearness. This is how we reflect Him. This is how we become safe places for the mourning. So the next time you sit with someone who has lost what they loved, resist the urge to say more than you should. Stay. And trust that your quiet presence may be the most Christlike thing you ever offer. References (APA 7th Edition) Bock, D. L. (1994). Luke 1:1–9:50 (Baker Exegetical Commentary on the New Testament). Baker Academic. Hughes, R. K. (1998). Luke: That You May Know the Truth (Preaching the Word Commentary Series). Crossway.