Comparison. If you’re a woman you have encountered this animal in some form.

Comparison is competition. It’s a desire for identity, but it’s a false identity. Putting forth a veneer of yourself that isn’t true. A disordered desire for approval. And it always leads to discontentment and insecurity and jealousy. I can vouch for that.

I’ll be honest. I compare myself and have on countless occasions allowed my soul to fall prey to all that comparison brings. But I’m fighting against it. Nothing good comes from it.

“Whatever I deem to be most important about myself is what I check out in others.” That caused some movement in my gut — conviction — because when I looked at what I envy, or places I find myself insecure, it was shallow. Not at all cultivating the depth and richness that a relationship with God can hold. Not at all helping me be a woman who genuinely loves people and championships the achievements of others, or a wife who glorifies God and serves her husband well by being an active and present helpmate. Man… Grace beckons.

Then there is comparison’s buddy: perfectionism. Of this I am a poster child. I like to disguise this in my mind as “hard worker,” or “passionate.” But it’s not.

Perfectionism. The disordered desire for righteousness apart from Christ. Becoming fixated on performance, steadily comparing and measuring yourself up against those around you, or an expectation you’ve created in your own mind.

But when that perfectionism is not reached, we’re left paralyzed! I know I’ve felt this way, but what kind of life is that? Not the one I believe God desires for me — or you.

So I fight it.

I fight it because this question hits me square in the eyes, an arrow of truth to the heart: “How could you ever be happy, if everything has to be perfect? How could you rest? How would you have peace? How could you ever see yourself as lovely?” via

So where’s the line to walk? Confession. Repentance. Constantly.

A breathed prayer for Truth to reign entirely.

And in moments when I blow it, or when I feel discouraged because the battle to believe God is tiring, I have a beautiful opportunity to marvel at the Gospel. To marvel that I didn’t surprise God. I have a chance to slow down and rest in, “He calls me holy. He calls me blameless. Even in this he delights in me.”

Praise God.

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