Victoria Advocate, October 2, 2021, by Mary Pat Johns
This past Saturday, my husband and I made a quick day trip to New Braunfels to see our daughter and family. They’re moving into a new house, and Nancy needed her daddy to help her think through the changes she wanted to make. Their brains run on the same track in that respect. Unfortunately, I didn’t get that gene. So while they figured out cabinet placement and design, I hiked upstairs to play with the girls. Photos and videos count as playtime.
Since the house was empty, the options were limited, but that didn’t matter. The oldest, seven-year-old Annabelle, began to do handstands and backbends. Then, five-year-old Ria joined in with abbreviated cartwheels. Two-year-old Ellie wanted to participate and managed a lopsided somersault or two, but her size was challenging. She really couldn’t be expected to perform on the same level as her sisters.
Then Annabelle decided to climb the door frame. Foothold by foothold, she inched her way to the top. It looked painful to me, but no whimper passed her lips. She was too focused on her goal. Not to be outdone, Ria climbed it too. She didn’t get quite as high but still accomplished her goal. And, of course, Ellie wasn’t about to be left out, but her little legs didn’t stretch to both sides of the door frame. I do not doubt that soon, in typically dramatic fashion, she’ll climb the door frame in some manner that never occurred to her sisters.
Hmm. A lot to unpack with this little story. After all, don’t we all have walls and mountains to climb with our jobs and relationships? Sometimes, we can zip to the top without much effort, but other times? Yeah, one uncomfortable foothold at a time, with memorable crash-and-burns along the way. Life is like that.
Then, there’s the nasty art of comparison. What’s the old jingle?—“Anything you can do, I can do better.” In the time it takes to sing it, friendly competition falls by the wayside, and things get ugly. The lie we believe is that people outgrow the comparison trap. The truth is, unless we let God deal with our jealous, insecure hearts, we trundle that baggage into adulthood. Maturity doesn’t solve our sinful nature. It just hides and becomes more subtle. When we compare ourselves to others, we’re always on the short end of the stick. Someone will always be ahead of us. Thinner. More talented. More successful. Since God made us all unique, those comparisons make about as much sense as measuring a seven-year-old child’s performance to a two-year-old.
In Scripture, King Saul is remembered for his disobedience. Oh, he began with God’s anointing, but the kingship went to his head. So much so that Samuel, a prophet and Saul’s mentor, informed him he would lose his kingdom. So when David, a young shepherd boy, came along and killed a particularly troublesome Philistine named Goliath, and the women sang, “Saul has killed his thousands, and David his ten thousands,” Saul became angry, and “from that time on, kept a jealous eye on David.” (I Samuel 18:9) Saul could have stepped down gracefully, but his pride wouldn’t let him. He chased David all over the country for a long time, trying to kill him, but it didn’t change anything. David became king. Saul eventually fell on his sword.
As we walk through our daily lives, it’s important to remember who the real enemy is. It’s usually not the person we’re mad at or the people we compare ourselves to—those are distractions that take our mind off the real goal. Instead, our goal is to accomplish the tasks God has given us—one foothold at a time.