Comparison is Not the Thief of Joy

I'm sure we are all quite familiar with the maxim "Comparison is the thief of joy." Whether it is properly attributed to Dwight Edwards or President Theodore Roosevelt, I do not know. I do, however, wish to call not its authorship, but rather its authenticity into question. Allow me to put forth this statement:

It is envy, not comparison that purloins one's joy

Allow me to explain. Every action and every inclination has a motive or reason driving it. We do not like or dislike things for no reason. There is no room for illusions of postmodern subjectivism here. Though there may be much seeking and effort required to ascertain it, our actions and inclinations can always be traced to a reason, a meaning, or a root of sorts. I see no need to give examples of such because I’m quite sure that you know this to be true, even if you don't realize that you understand that fact. Meaning is essential to reason. C. S. Lewis aptly observed that meaning is: “the antecedent condition both of truth and falsehood” and that meaning’s antithesis “is not error but nonsense.”*

Let's examine the denotations and connotations of envy and comparison.

Webster’s 1828 dictionary defines “envy” thus:

1. To feel uneasiness, mortification, or discontent at the sight of superior excellence, reputation, or happiness enjoyed by another.
2. To fret or grieve oneself at the real or supposed superiority of another and to hate him on that account. (Emphasis added).

I doubt I need to define comparison, or at least in the sense in which it is used in the aforementioned quote. It is such a natural occurrence in our nature, to measure oneself to a neighbor and find the measurer or the measured lacking. I'm a ballet dancer, comparison is as effortless as breathing for me. It is important to note that comparison is not joy-sucking in and of itself. At times, it is a helpful and essential tool. We would be utterly lost and unable to distinguish between that which is excellent and that which is poor without a standard by which we can measure excellence. Without the moral clarity in the character and hence law of God, we would be left with nothing but moral relativism and chaos. In a world without Rembrandt, one wonders if we would have a good many more Pollocks or Picassos *shutters*.  Personal art prejudices aside, it is our distortion of comparison that is inexcusable, not comparison in and of itself. When we use comparison as a method of determining our worth or when it is a source of selfish discontentment, then it is absolutely deadly to our joy. James 3:16 soberly warns: “For where bitter envy and selfish ambition exist, there is disorder and every kind of evil.” I think that we have an understanding of just how destructive and sinful envy can be, but when it comes in the seemingly harmless package of comparison, we oft pass it off as a socially acceptable sin (which by the way, still happens to be a sin). The media uses comparison as a highly effective marketing strategy and we oft passively accept that twist of bitterness in the pit of our stomach when we see a “perfect” life belonging to a supposedly “perfect” person. We forget the nature of true perfection and belittle it to things such as a body shape that happens to be the current social fad, the monetary means that enable an exceedingly comfortable lifestyle, the success of an individual, or even the spiritual estate of a fellow believer. Envy is a back door through which disorder and all kinds of evil slink in and settle in the unsuspecting heart. Let’s resolve to call our sinful comparisons what they are in nature: envying. Ladies, you know that knot in your stomach you try to ignore when you see a gorgeous women who is exceedingly skilled in pretending that she has her life together? Yeah, it’s not so innocent now, is it? According to our working definition, to “feel uneasiness” at excellence, reputation, or happiness enjoyed by another is still classified as envy.

Alexander Pope noted that “all human virtue, to its last breath, finds envy never conquered but by death." Now, I must admit that I have not been entirely forthright about the nature of envy. It may be the root of comparison, but is a mere fruit of something deeper. Comparison is to envy what envy is to selfishness; fearfully and wonderfully made creatures harboring bitterness in their hearts toward their Creator because He did not make or give them that which they believe they are entitled to own or possess. Thankfully, selfishness is not without remedy. “If anyone wants to come with Me, he must deny himself, take up his cross daily and follow me.”** 

Such is not an easy remedy but it is the only true one. We must humbly lay aside our selfish ambitions and delusions of entitlement to surrender all to Christ. We have to die to ourselves. Pope claimed that death was the only way to defeat envy, and he was correct. Note that it is a daily occurrence in the believer’s life. I know that every single time I step into a room laden with a long barre and walls covered in mirrors, I have to die to myself and live in the gratitude in which the Holy Spirit so graciously enables me to live…sometimes that means picking up my fallen cross numerous times in the day. It is impossible to dwell in enduring joy without doing so. Think on how much anxiety, stress, self hatred, and bitterness we could be free of with only a little gratitude and a whole lot of humility. Marvel at every breath you have been given and you will find that envy is unable to abscond with your joy.

*From “Bluspels and Flalansferes: A Semantic Nightmare”

**Luke 9:23 HCSB

Poetry, Hymns, and Moonlight Sonata

Today (December 17) marks the birthdays of both John Greenleaf Whittier and Ludwig van Beethoven. Both the Fireside poet and the composer have been favourites of mine through the years.  One of Whittier's most well known lines is taken from the poem "Maud Miller." These lines have always hit home with me. Perhaps you can see why:

"For of all sad words of tongue or pen

the saddest are these: 'it might have been.'" 

As 2016 approaches, we could all do well to keep those words in mind. I am resolved to say "yes" to more adventures, within reason of course, and to circumspectly avoid "it might have been" to the best of my frail abilities.

Whittier wrote hymns (almost one-hundred of them) that I have only recently discovered. Though his theology is not spot on, nor one with which I will ever align myself, they are lovely nonetheless. Here are the links to a few that I have enjoyed and a few lines to sample:

Immortal Love, Forever Free:

"Immortal love, forever full,

Forever flowing free, Forever shared, forever whole, A never ebbing sea!

All other names above;

Love only knoweth whence it came,

And comprehendeth love.

The mists of earth away:

Shine out, O Light divine, and show

How wide and far we stray.

To bring the Lord Christ down;

In vain we search the lowest deeps,

For Him no depths can drown.

A present help is He;

And faith still has its Olivet,

And love its Galilee."

http://www.cyberhymnal.org/htm/i/m/immortal.htm

Shall We Grow Weary in Our Walk:

"Enough that blessings undeserved

That more and more a providence

That death seems but a covered way

Our outward lips confess the name

Blow, winds of God, awake and blow

We may not climb the heavenly steeps

But warm, sweet, tender, even yet,

 Easier to smite with Peter's sword

Than to watch one hour in humbling prayer;

Life's great things, like the Syrian lord,

Our hearts can do and dare"

http://www.hymnary.org/text/shall_we_grow_weary_in_our_watch

All as God Wills, Who Wisely Heeds:

"All as God wills, who wisely heeds

To give or to withhold,

And knoweth more of all my needs,

Than all my prayers have told!

Have marked my erring track;

That wheresoe'er my feet have swerved,

His chastening turned me back

Of love is understood

Making the Springs of time and sense

Sweet with eternal good

Which opens into light

Wherein no blinded child can stray

Beyond the Father's sight"

http://www.hymnary.org/text/all_as_god_wills_who_wisely_heeds

On Beethoven:

One of my goals I determined to accomplish in 2015 was to be able to play the first movement of Moonlight Sonata. After starting it in January, the months of work that followed (and the constant reminders that an f double-sharp is actually just a g natural) were not for naught. Though there is still much work and improvement to be accomplished in the piece's execution, two simple facts remain: I will never tire of working on Moonlight Sonata and I will never be completely finished working on Moonlight Sonata. I realize that never is a strong word, but I am using it in earnest. That is the timeless beauty of finding a piece of music that resonates with you and plays your heartstrings just as much as striking your piano's strings. The hours of work and continued improvement of one's execution of the piece is pure joy. Beethoven was a master of his craft and his work yet transcends time and culture.  It's hard to find the words to express the power of excellent music, so I shan't attempt to do so. However, I will close with a quote from a dear friend of mine: "God spoke through [Beethoven] and his music even if he wasn't on God's side (but I hope he changed his mind before he died)."- Kate Hardie

Pondering Pursuit

“The Lord detests the way of the wicked,
but He loves the one who pursues righteousness.”

-Proverbs 15:9

What am I pursuing? Such an inquiry demands another one be made: what does it mean to pursue? The word for pursue in this passage is the Hebrew verb radaph. It’s not just any verb, it is a hunting verb. Radaph denotes running after and attending closely. The Lord loves the one who hunts down righteousness. Undoubtedly, this requires intention, determination, and persistence. Do those words describe the race I’m running? Can my walk with the Lord be marked by a relentless perusal of righteousness? Time after time, we are told to walk carefully and to whom we are to direct our steps (see Deuteronomy 11:22, Joshua 22:5, 1 Kings 8:61, Micah 6:8, Romans 6:4, Galatians 5:16, Ephesians 4:1-3, 1 John 2:6, and others) To walk somewhere is to make a conscientious decision to go in that direction. To hunt righteousness is a relentless pursuit, one that cannot be undertaken halfheartedly or haphazardly. My steps can only go in two directions: toward righteousness, or away from it. Either I walk in the light, or I walk in the dark. There is no twilight nor middle ground in this hunt. One cannot persist in such a strenuous task without purpose or reason. Why flee wickedness? Because the Lord detests it. The word detest is “tow`ebah.” That means wickedness is an abomination to the Lord, it is disgusting to Him, and an abhorrence to Him. I seek holiness because He is holy. To seek His presence is to seek humility and holiness. A relationship with the holy God and living a holy life are inseparable. I pursue hard because I love passionately the One who pursued me first. Radaph. That same word is found in Psalm 23:6. His goodness and faithful love are literally hunting me down every single day of my life. Therefore, I pursue because I am pursued. However, it’s not as simple as merely walking. I have to know where I am going and how I am going to get there. I have to know Him. I must fix my eyes, attentions, and affections on the only One who is truly worthy of them. Such a task demands careful attendance. No sooner do I find my feet on one path, I languish to discover them naturally inclining and deviating to another. I must think carefully about where my feet are headed. Psalm 119:59-60 says “I thought about my ways and turned my steps back to Your decrees. I hurried, not hesitating to keep Your commands.” In this present moment, where am I? What is my heart hunting? Daily, I must remind myself to seek hard and pursue diligently. Beseeching El Gibbor to give me the ability to do so, I must walk worthy of the gospel. My heart will incline and it will pursue of its own accord. The object of its inclination and of its pursuit makes all the difference in the World.

“That He may incline our hearts toward Him, to walk in all His ways, and to keep His commandments, and His statutes, and His judgments, which He commanded our ancestors.”

-1 Kings 8:58

A Christmas Day Contemplation

“I heard the bells on Christmas Day

    Their old, familiar carols play,

        And wild and sweet

        The words repeat

    Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

    And thought how, as the day had come,

    The belfries of all Christendom

        Had rolled along

        The unbroken song

    Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

    Till ringing, singing on its way,

    The world revolved from night to day,

        A voice, a chime,

        A chant sublime

    Of peace on earth, good-will to men!”

At first, this poem by the Fireside Poet, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, appears to be your average joyful Christmas song. Christmas time is oft marked with such joy, as it well should be. Yet, it is also a time of great sadness and despair for some. Sometimes Christmas serves as a reminder of who is not sitting next to you at the table. Fraught with empty chairs and broken dreams, Christmas can show us how affliction and pain never take winter vacations. The author of this Christmas carol heretofore mentioned knew that fact all too well.

   “And in despair I bowed my head;

 ‘There is no peace on earth,’ I said;

        ‘For hate is strong,

        And mocks the song

    Of peace on earth, good-will to men!’"

 At times, Christmas and all its joys in commemorating our Savior’s birth clashes with the harsh depravity and pain of this broken world. Often, it's hard to hear "peace on earth" above all the chaos on earth. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow was well acquainted with such chaos and despair. When he penned the words to this carol, he was suffering the grief of two painful losses. First, that of his wife to a tragic fire, and then that of his son to the War Between the States.

    "Then from each black, accursed mouth

    The cannon thundered in the South,

        And with the sound

        The carols drowned

    Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

    It was as if an earthquake rent

    The hearth-stones of a continent,

        And made forlorn

        The households born

    Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Yes, this poet, along with many other American families of 1863, knew excessively well the strong hatred, the suffocating despair, and the loud mockery of "peace on earth" that the war wrought. The fact is, it’s a fallen world, full of fallen people. Since the fall of man, man has fallen ever since. The depravity and wickedness of men's heart hardly makes one want to break out in full chorus of “All things Bright and Beautiful.” Yet, Longfellow's last verse of the carol reminds us thus:

“Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:

    ‘God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

        The Wrong shall fail,

        The Right prevail,

    With peace on earth, good-will to men.’"

We have a glorious hope that did not stop in a manger, nor on a cross. Christ came to earth on a rescue mission armed with a redemptive purpose. When commemorating Christ's birth during this season, we can't be so focused solely on the manger that we forget the empty tomb and the victory Christ has won. Christmas is not dependent on your Christmas feeling (or lack thereof).  Christ is victorious over death, over Satan, over sin, and over our once stone-cold hearts. Surely, no chaos or despair can drown out that victory shout! The battle is already won, we have peace on earth because we have peace in Him. His word is full of promises of this peace. That does not mean that the chaos will up and away but that we can have security and “peace which transcends all understanding” in the midst of it (See Philippians 4:6-7). Whether it's the commercialism and the diminishing of Christmas' value by society, or a grievous affliction in your life this Christmas season that causes you to despair, fear not. Always remember the hope, the wonder, and the victory found in Emmanuel: God with us.

A Meditation on Affliction

"It was good for me to be afflicted so that I could learn Your statutes"

-Psalm 119:71

How I respond to trials is an indicator of my knowledge of God's word. If trials are what it takes to bring my wayward heart to learn His precepts, they are indeed a blessing and a good thing. The sweetness will always outweigh the bitterness when looking back over the beauty gathered from the ashes and finding feet that can do nothing save dance for sake of their freedom from mourning. God's law is my only anchor, comfort, and guidance. It is when in the agony of difficulties so great, that ONLY a sovereign, mighty God could remedy them that faith increases. Surely, I only endure that which God ordained for His glory and my good. For if those wretched hardships result in praise, glory, and honour at the revelation of Jesus Christ, shouldn't I open wide my arms and joyfully shout "let them come!" If refining fires, raging storms, and the darkest of nights bring me even a millimeter closer to my God, why should I fear or flee them? If disgrace brings glory, I must embrace it. For if I suffer for so great a God, who spared not a drop of His wrath from His own Son for my sake, should that suffering not be an obeisance of deepest regard? Never are His promises more near than when they are all I have to cleave to. When my only shelter is in Yah, my Rock and Fortress, will I not only be sheltered, but also drawn in? When trials come, His living water is all the more sweet to my parched lips and torrid heart. I depend on His word all the more desperately when it is the only light keeping darkness at bay. Indeed, I have every reason to "consider it a great joy." After all, is not joy a fruit of the Spirit that resides within me? Joy is not simply an emotion, just as faith is not merely a feeling of being saved one day and lost the next. Faith is not subjective to how I fair that particular day nor is joy subjective to the amount of gladness I find on the mountain top with hardly a valley in sight, only to plummet the next minute into the deepest of valleys. Faith is objective as it is firmly fixed on its object (or rather its author and perfecter). Therefore, faith never loses its objectivity*. Joy is literally "leaning toward" (Strong's 5479) the object of my faith. Proper recognition of His grace, that is what joy consists of. Peace in the nearness of God is true in both the raging and rests of a storm. Never has God broken His word or changed His mind. There is no "variation or shadow cast by turning" (James 1:17). His faithfulness, how it is proved o'er and o'er!  Never has He failed to act nor has He forgotten to carry out a promise to its utmost fulfillment. Aye, there's the rub. He does not forget, but I do. I, as Israel, fail to remember. Forgetfulness is a dangerous foe, for Psalm 28:5 reveals that it is evil doers who do "not consider what the Lord has done." Yet, how often do I contemplate the glorious works of His hands? Surely, fear and regard for His holiness must instill in me a desire to do so, lest I forget this precious knowledge. Though I forget, I forsake, and I fear, He is yet faithful. My weakness overtakes me to reveal that it is His strength alone that makes me stand firm, that it is His arms that carry me when I have not the strength to walk,and it is He who brings to mind those battle tactics He so skillfully trained my fingers in. I may weep through the night, but when morning light dawns on those same tears, it shines on tears of joy and gratitude. The heart is tested and stretched to reveal its inclination (or lack thereof) toward His commands. For sooth, it is the heat of the battle that reveals a warrior's true loyalties. When it all comes crashing down, there are only two places to run: into the arms of God or away from them. Yet if my feet flee, slip, and fall hard, I turn to see a loving Father running to me with arms outstretched. He bestows on me the strength to do a full 180 turn from sin and meet His embrace. Storms show the strength and depth of my roots. If I am abiding in the Vine, I will stand strong and one day shinning silver-purged of all dross. 
Without the Vine, the branch is not only fruitless...it is dead. 
Yes, it is good to be afflicted. Though it may not be enjoyable, it is still a great joy!


* See 2 Peter 1:3-10 if an objectivity check is needed.