I am the victim of theft. Or perhaps the perpetrator… I’ll leave you to play the jury and decide.

A friend of mine sent me a blog article recently, (I only take mild offense that she’s blog cheating on me…) and it was a beautifully written article. It was self-aware and thoughtful, engaging and inspiring. It referenced and quoted classic literature, and it was timely to the Easter season.

I should have been edified. So tell me why I was so deflated?

Immediately, a rush of inadequacy enveloped me. Why hadn’t I prepared such an article? Why was I quoting Taylor Swift lyrics instead of heady books? What if that author had more readers and subscribers than me? (Which, let’s be honest wouldn’t be hard. I love all fourteen of you dearly though.) What if….

Feeling insufficient and in need of inspiration, I spent some time in prayer, asking God to guide my thoughts as I prepared the next post.

Crickets.

Nothing.

Zip.

My mind began to wander, wondering if maybe God had appeared to that writer in a lighting strike inspiration.

Suddenly, a passion of mine, a joyful hobby and meaningful connecting point both to my creator and my readers was squashed. All the joy was squeezed out of it like a squished berry and I was left with stained hands and a sour taste in my mouth.

And don’t even get me started on all the other ways comparison sneaks in. It’s suffocating. Just last week, so and so from Instagram just went on a honeymoon, which means they’re ahead of me by one spouse and a trip abroad. Some long-lost acquaintance on Linked In just got a job offer with a paycheck bigger than mine. What if their job is better or more impressive than mine? And don’t forget about that one friend that’s always got the nicer home décor, a better relationship, smarter kids, or more organized designer purse. In the span of only a breath, all the things I was once proud of and grateful for are no longer good enough.

It’s more than materialism, if I were to venture a guess. I envy other people’s things yes but also their relationships and reputation, their inner peace or seeming satisfaction in life. Materialism presents as a symptom, not the disease. Perhaps disorder is really a better term for it, because comparison is a disordered way of thinking. Not just for all the practical reasons (e.g. your job is different, or they went into credit card debt for that purse, or they got food poisoning on their honeymoon and the photos were just a false highlight reel…) but for a higher, sacred reason.

God never meant to compare you to others. So why should you? Jesus didn’t shake Peter and ask him why he couldn’t be more like John. In fact, when the disciples tried to play the game of comparison, asking Jesus who would be greatest in the kingdom of Heaven, he said they simply didn’t get it. He put a child before them and said “Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” (Matthew 18) In one of the churches I visited in Rome, there were three works by Caravaggio, illustrating St. Matthew’s call, his writing the Gospel, and his martyrdom. In the painting of his call, Jesus has burst into a den of gamblers, and he and Matthew alone stand in the light streaming through the door. Matthew is astonished, afraid at being seen, and also desperate for it. He’s not looking at the others around the table. He’s looking at Christ.

That, my friends, is the whole point. If your eyes are fixed on what’s around you, how can you possibly focus on Christ and meet his gaze?

Jesus’ call for you is unique. His path for you is personalized. His gifts are designed especially for you and the desires of your heart. Who are you to say they’re not enough? Do you even know what enough would be?

Joy, real joy, the kind that comes with a side of contentment fresh out of the oven of trial and refinement, must be thoughtfully protected. It is not a cheap commodity to be tossed about and shared with just anyone. It’s far more precious than all that. We’re often searching for it, taking up cheap substitutes that C.S. Lewis compared to mud pies. We stumble about chasing all the things we think other people have, including jobs and status and things and relationships. But none of those things are really joy, because joy is not an achievement. It’s a gift, as well as a practice.

1 Timothy 6 says, “But godliness with contentment is great gain, for we brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world. But if we have food and clothing, with these we will be content.”

My first reaction is to ask… will we? Will we be content? Because I have a few other things I’d like along with food and clothing….

And yet, that kind of thinking is what got the rich young man in trouble when he asked Jesus what he must do to be saved. When Jesus told him to sell everything he owned, give it to the poor, and follow him, that was where the young man drew the line. He was doing just fine by his standards, when he compared himself to other people and found out he’d done darn well at following the rules. But when held to Christ’s standard, when asked to answer Jesus’ call for him? Well, he wasn’t ready for that kind of joy, because it meant giving up all the comforts that had been masquerading in his life disguised as joy for so long.

Are you, like I so often am, comparing your journey to others and missing out on your own? How will you find joy in the path God has for you if you aren’t even taking notice of it?

In another parable, Jesus tells of a man who went out to find workers for his field at different hours of the day. He promised every worker a full days wages, the ones he hired at daybreak and the ones he hired in the final hours of the day. Everyone was thrilled with the promise of this payment… that is until the people that started first found out that the stragglers were to receive the same wage as them. Immediately, comparison stole away their joy and contentment. It evaporated, and they descended into complaint.

Perhaps God has something bigger for us than what we currently see. Or perhaps our vision is so focused on what he’s doing with other people that we have totally missed what he’s been doing for us. Do not fall victim to the thief of joy, and do not act as the perpetrator. Do not let yourself practice comparison over contentment. Not just so that you do not commit the gateway sin of envy, but so that you don’t miss out on God’s good gifts.

If gratitude lists feel to kitschy or cliché for you, perhaps that’s the very best place to start. After all, humbling yourself is the whole point, right? Humbly recognizing, receiving, and returning thanks for the wonderful gifts he gives us.

Here, I’ll start.

I’m grateful for you. No, really, the fact that you took the time to engage with my thoughts is something I truly cherish.

I’m grateful for my apartment. It’s so much more than I prayed for.

I’m grateful for my parents that come over and share their wisdom with me, (and let me shop their basement…)

I’m grateful to the friends that I can be real with. They hold me up when I bleed, and hold me accountable when I am off track.

I’m grateful that God hasn’t given up on me, and that he won’t give up on you.

Alright. Phew. That’s a good start for me. What about you? If you made it this far, my challenge to you and prayer is that you reach out to me and send me three things you are grateful for. Let’s fight the thief of joy together. Let’s praise God for his good gifts.

Hebrews 13:5 “Keep your life free from love of money, and be content with what you have, for he has said, “I will never leave you nor forsake you.”