A heart at peace gives life to the body,
but envy rots the bones.
—PROVERBS 14:30
Chances are, if you’re like me, you’ve struggled with these areas I’ve been talking about—comparison and envy.
My house looks great until a friend redecorates. Her clever color combination and crafty restoration abilities have created rooms that look as though they’ve stepped straight from a magazine. Suddenly my home feels outdated and plain.
My kids always seemed great until I was around someone else’s who excelled in areas my kids struggled in. I would see her kids quietly reading books that were well advanced for their age and loving every minute of it. I compared that to mine who would have rather had their right arms cut off than read books that were barely grade level all the while asking me when they could go do something else more exciting. Suddenly I was judging myself for not making reading more of a priority when they were younger and felt like a subpar mom.
No, it doesn’t take long for all that I’m blessed with to pale in the face of comparison. I’m blinded from seeing what I do have in the face of what I don’t have. My heart is drawn into a place of ungratefulness and assumption. As I assume everything is great for those who possess what I don’t, I become less and less thankful for what’s mine. I forget the warning tucked in Proverbs 14:30, “A heart at peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the bones.”
And here’s the real kicker . . . things for the person I’m comparing myself to are almost never what they seem. Everybody has not-so-great sides to their lives. Whenever I get an idyllic view of someone else’s life, I will often say out loud, “I am not equipped to handle what they have, both good and bad.”
God has taught me a lot about how to nip a comparison in the bud so it doesn’t develop into full-blown envy and jealously.
The statement, “I am not equipped to handle what they have, both good and bad,” has been one of the greatest realizations God has given me. Every situation has both good and bad. When I want someone else’s good, I must realize that I’m also asking for the bad that comes along with it. It’s always a package deal. And usually if I’ll just give something enough time to unfold, I can often be found thanking God that I didn’t get someone else’s package.
I am not equipped to handle what they have, both good and bad.
One of the first times I came to understand this truth was in middle school when I met a beautiful girl at the Children’s Theater in my town. We were both budding child actors cast in a Christmas play. During rehearsals I can remember seeing her long dancer’s legs move in ways my stubby limbs never could. Her legs were muscular and lean and graceful. Mine couldn’t be described with any of those adjectives.
One day there was an unusual pain in her left leg. And then a doctor’s appointment turned into a battery of tests that turned into a hospital stay that turned into a diagnosis. Cancer. A surgery to remove a tumor turned into an amputation turned into a complete life change. Her world became filled with words no child should ever have to know: chemotherapy, prosthetics, hair loss, and walking canes.
As a young girl I was stunned by the whole thing. Especially because I clearly remember night after night after watching her glide across stage, I would ask God for legs exactly like hers.
Not equipped to handle what they have, both good and bad.
I don’t want to paint the picture that every good thing someone else has will end with a tragedy. That’s not the case. Sometimes others’ good things are simply fantastic. But they are fantastic for them—not me.
Dear Lord, thank You for only entrusting me with what I have and who I am. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.