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Well, I’m just going to be honest. I’ve struggled with comparison all my life. I hope I’m not alone in this—I think it’s quite a universal problem. In my case, I’ve known it since I was a child. It started with sibling comparison—I was the oldest of three girls. It was the constant striving to be the smartest of the girls, or the prettiest, or the most petty of things—the TALLEST. As if I had any say and ability to affect how tall I was! It then progressed into highschool and university—and I wasn’t popular there (thankfully). It was comparing myself to the class, comparing myself to models on magazines, or the popular girls in school. It was the persistent pursuit of success—success in school, success in work, success in relationships.
And it all hinged on comparison—so long as I was better than those around me, I felt happy and content. But if I felt that I wasn’t matching up, if I was inferior to those around me, then it was a nagging feeling of disappointment. I was a Christian—most certainly, but that didn’t mean I was always willing and happy to turn this all over to Christ and sink myself in to deep scriptural truths about my identity. It often led to poor decisions, and I was aware of this—but I wanted to rebalance the scales, so I could compare myself to those around me and say with certainty, “Yes! I’m doing okay because I’m doing better than these people in these areas.”
Perhaps I’ve struck a chord with some of you as I’ve shared my own struggles with comparison and pride.
|Then ... (2015, look how chubby, cute and bald Ethan is!)|
|... and now! (2018, at Tchincombe farm, my how we've grown and developed|
bags under our eyes!)