The Voice of Comparison and Hearing His Song

I’m sitting with a friend, at my table, and she shares from a deep place. The tea kettle is slow to warm, but words come fast.

She’s hurting because she’s comparing herself to others.

She’s hurting because she’s hearing lies.

We sit at the table and I listen. But I don’t see what she sees. I don’t see the shortcomings. The not- enoughs. The second-rates and falling-shorts and maybe-someday-I’ll get-it-rights.

I see a beautiful woman made more lovely by her heart for the Lord.

I see a sweet soul longing to shine bright in the light of His love.

I see His grace, His love, in the way she touches her children. The way she loves her husband. The way she's reached into my life. They way she reaches for others, too.

But she’s listening to the voice. The voice that nags. The voice that lies. The voice that slips over our souls like dark, sticky tar if we let it ebb in.

It’s the voice of comparison.

And I can see that she’s tuned in because I fight the voice, too.

She’s younger. She’s more fit. She’s a better writer. I’ll bet her kids never throw fits that make her stark ravin’mad. If they do, I’ll bet she handles it better than I do.

It goes on and on. Important things. Petty things. Vain things. Spiritual things.

Her house is cleaner. She’s more successful. She looks better in jeans. I wish her talent could be mine.

So I sit at my table and listen. I listen to my friend’s heart. But as I do, I begin to hear something else, too. It’s the truth of His Word. It’s the tune of His promise. It comes loud and clear until it’s strong as the beat of my heart.

The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing. Zephaniah 3:17 NIV

And I begin to think.

Does the Lord ask me to pull my worth from the weight of a stack of sisters?

No.

He asks me to trust Him. To obey Him. To praise Him. To give thanks. To love Him and to love others.

Does the Lord compare me to any another woman? Does he tell me I should be more? Does he expect me to possess all the best qualities of everyone I know?

No.

Not at all.

He comes close. He takes delight in me. He gives me gifts and talents and a life that is uniquely mine. He singles me out . Lifts me up. Pulls me near. He’s given me His Word and He’s filled me with His Spirit. And he comes close enough to whisper.

Close enough to sing.

The teakettle whistles. My friend shares, and I listen. When her heart quiets, I’ll share too. But I have a new prayer.

It’s for my friend.

 It’s for me.

I’ll pray that the voice of comparison would fall silent.

‘Cause we’re lost in the song of His love.