Shall I Compare Thee To...

Fill in the blank. 

Of course Shakespeare would compare you to "a summer's day" but take your pick. Your roommate? Your older siblings? Your parent's expectations? That classmate who always does just a few points better than you? Maybe one of your friends likes another friend more than you? Maybe you feel like you don't fit in? Who do you find yourself comparing against? What is your backdrop? That list is endless. 

Personally, this is something I really struggle with. I see friends with blogs who are creative and witty and their wording is beautiful and they get lots of shares on facebook, I have friends who excel at school with such ease while I'm over here struggling my way into As and Bs (and Cs in some cases), friends who are happily married, engaged, or dating while I am "happily" single, friends who are always getting invited to do adventurous things. Its hard guys. It really is.

As a woman, comparisons are probably one of my biggest struggles. Whether we realize it or not. Here I am, sitting on my bed on a Friday afternoon getting ready to go for a run and I just happen to check social media and it hits me in the face. "Oh, they did that without me," "Man, why can't I do exciting things like that," and countless others. 

Mentally, I know that comparison is probably the least productive thing to ever engage in. If what I am comparing myself to is something I really want, what good is day-dreaming or having a pity party going to do me? Lemme help you out, NOTHING. My head knows all of this, friends, yet somehow this is always where I end up. Comparison sneaks into my life through the back door when I let my guard down. It slides through the crack in my window while my mind and eyes are elsewhere. It masquerades as something else and throws a ball in my heart. Comparison is a master of deception and disguise and can contort itself into any and every manner until it gains entry into my heart and soul. 

Once there, it starts to rot. (Like a banana peel that has been in the trashcan for a few days.) It starts to stink, and that smell spreads until not even I want to be in my own skin anymore. It robs me of my joy, it undermines my confidence, it spreads like a vicious cancer until every part of my being is infected, and most of all it cheapens the gospel of grace in my heart.

See, as a believer, the beauty of salvation is that you are wholly accepted. You are wiped clean and nothing stands between you and the Father. In the Old Testament, you can read all about the rules for sacrifices for forgiveness. The details are so particular I'm not sure that an honest man (or woman) could complete the process correctly without missing anything. When Christ died on the cross for you and me, He took that insecurity, He took that shame, He took that comparison off of our hearts and he laid it in the grave. It is gone. No more. 

Foolish human that I am, I continually take those burdens back on myself. The need to compare, to meet a standard, to gain something I think I am missing. My head wants to scream to my heart, "You're sick again! The comparison has crept in and is spreading. You don't have to do this, you can't do this!" Do I listen? Only after my head has gone hoarse from screaming, and my heart is pounding with the force of my cries. Only when I fail, when I come to the end of myself, and realize I have nothing more to contribute do I remember the grace that is the cross. Where Christ offered himself to meet those comparisons in my stead, where He assumed full ownership of my shame, my insecurities, my "just a little bigger and better," and He allowed me the freedom to admit that I am not sufficient. 

I am not sufficient. That hurts, friends. We all want to be independent, we all want to be self-sustaining, but when I think about it honestly, that is a miserable existence. It isolates you from everyone and everything because you are constantly worried about interference in "your" life. Comparison tries to make you think that independence is something to be proud of, our society tries to make it out to be some big success. Its not. I can't even fathom why my heart wants to be so independent, understanding what that would mean for my life, it breaks me. 

So I find myself here at this place I know so well, once again being reminded of the beauty of an unfulfillable standard, and accepting with open arms the grace of the One who is sufficient for me.

So backtracking to the beginning, let me fill in that blank now that my heart is in place: 

Shall I compare thee to a broken, insufficient, soul-amnesiac daughter covered by her Father's grace.