Comparison and Contentment

Comparison is a drug, an addiction. And we feed it almost constantly, between posting on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter, and then scrolling mindlessly like a zombie for longer than we’d like to admit. We’ve enslaved ourselves to this culture of perfection and constant comparison against a standard that simply does not exist. We only post the very best of our lives, the carefully positioned and photographed (and filtered) representations of how we wish our lives really were. And then we look at other people’s posts, other people’s perfect pictures and compare them to what we really know about our lives, and we don’t measure up. We never will. And that is truly terrifying. So we post more, better, on and on until we feel satisfied that we’ve proved to the e-audience that our lives are good enough.

I’m tired of it. I’m tired of pretending that I have it all together and I’m tired of feeling inadequate and like a failure when I don’t. I can see what this culture is doing to me and I know I have to fight it before it consumes me. I’m sick of seeing pictures of couples, perfect smiles, perfect clothes, perfect captions describing how perfect their relationships are, and worrying because I know my relationship isn’t perfect. And I’m sick of feeling compelled to post my own couple pictures as a rebuttal, even though I know about the argument that happened five minutes before (or after) those smiles.

Personally, I seem to be pre-packaged and predisposed to comparison. So why am I engaging in activities that not only exploit that weakness but actively prey on it? It’s not unlike an alcoholic working at a bar, or spending all of his or her free time at one. In what universe does that seem like a good idea?

We think that we’re capturing the beauty of our lives by constantly photographing and posting every worthy moment, but all we’re really doing is replacing reality with a cheap, fake photocopy of the original. Have you ever noticed that it’s nearly impossible to capture with a camera the exact colors you see with your eyes? Maybe that’s because we’re meant to see with our eyes, not through the lens of a camera. We’re meant to live in community with people, real people, and actually speak to them, hug them, see their faults and love them all the more because of it. Real life has no filters, no captions, no veneer. It’s raw and ugly and spontaneous and so, so beautiful for its lack of pretense.

In removing imperfection from the reality we choose to see, we’ve eliminated the opportunity to have real relationships with people. The illusion of perfection is driving us further and further from each other as we continue to see how imperfect we really are and then feel so desperate to hide it. In this age of social media we’re creating a culture of anti-social people, not by choice but by necessity.

I’m done with all of this. I’m done with the scrolling and the posting. I’m done with the pressure of perfection. I’m not perfect, okay? In fact, I’m horribly imperfect and broken and frankly just a giant mess a lot of the time. I’m in grad school, but hardly a day goes by when I don’t feel completely inadequate or stressed to the point of paralysis with the pressure of being successful. I’m engaged to a wonderful man, but we argue, we disagree, and marriage is almost as scary as it is exciting to think about. I love God more than anything, but sometimes I get mad at him, sometimes I reject his words, and a lot of the time I doubt him and try to do things on my own. I'm terrified of how imperfect I am, but I cannot express how incredibly liberating it felt to say all of that.

Maybe, if we own our faults and our imperfections, we will finally be able to let go of the need to one-up each other with "happiness." When we're secure in reality and the fact that our lives don't have to be perfect to be wonderful, we'll see through the cheap facade of perfection and into the deep sadness and fear that it hides. Perfection does not equal happiness any more than imperfection equals unhappiness. 

Comparison ends only in heartache, but contentment leads to joy!

Why am I a vegetarian? (Why are you an omnivore?)

When people find out that I'm a vegetarian, it usually leads to one of two questions: "What about bacon?" and "Why?" I may address the first question and others like it in a later post, but for now I'm going to stick to the second one. I'm not always able to articulate so well on the spot (talking is hard), so here it is, once and for all: Why I'm a vegetarian.

There are a few typical reasons: health, the animals, and because of the meat industry. The short answer that I sometimes give is "All the reasons." But I'll elaborate more. The last reason, regarding the meat industry in general, I don't feel I need to discuss here. People much smarter than me have already written books and made movies about it all. If you want an easy-to-read, relatively unbiased (he talks about family farms and exceptions to the mainstream alongside the factory farming norms) book about these and other meat-related issues, I'd highly recommend "Eating Animals" by Jonathan Safran Foer. If you know me personally, I'll even let you borrow it.

Now, to understand all of this, you have to know that I absolutely loved meat. In fact, the thought that first led to my journey into vegetarianism was, ironically enough, "I couldn't live without meat." Whenever I try to tell myself that I can't live without something (and I legitimately could), I take it as a sign that I need to seriously reevaluate my priorities. So with that in mind, I decided to give up meat for a month.

And I loved it.

The only way I can describe how I felt is clean. I didn't expect this at all. I expected to be endlessly craving, missing, maybe even dreaming about the meat that I wasn't eating. But in a surprising plot twist, I didn't miss it at all. I kept thinking, This is the way I'm supposed to be living. It just felt so natural. That's what I mean by health reasons. My diet isn't perfect by any means, and neither is my health, but the bottom line is that I feel better meatless than I ever have before. And this is from the girl who said she could NEVER give up meat. Since then, I've continue accumulating more and more reasons to keep being a vegetarian.

About animal issues, I'm not going to address slaughtering techniques or any of that. If you want to learn about where your meat comes from, an excellent documentary (narrated by Joaquin Pheonix - so there's that) is Earthlings, which happens to be free online. However, I'll warn you: don't delve into these issues if you ever want to look at your food the same way again. Once you see these things, you have to make a decision: either let it change you, or force yourself to live in an artificial state of ignorance.

Anyway, back to the animals. A powerful paradox for me is that we have companion animals, dogs and cats, and the thought of killing and eating them is unthinkable; yet what makes them different from a cow or a pig? Certainly not intelligence (pigs in particular are incredibly intelligent). I remember the day I thought about this for the first time, and it hit me pretty hard. I had called myself an animal lover for so long, but I had really only loved a select few animals and eaten so many more! I'm not trying to be preachy or judgmental at all - I'm simply speaking to my own personal experience.

"Once you come to terms with why you don't eat cats, dogs, monkeys and dolphins, you begin to understand why I don't eat cows, pigs, chickens and lambs." - Edward Sanchez

Beyond the question of why some animals are "friends" while others are "food," there is the question of whether it's necessary to eat animals. I know that, in the past, it has been necessary because of limited resources and technology. But in this day and age, particularly in America, we can get all the nutrition we need from the myriad of non-meat foods available at any supermarket! Basically, I don't see why an animal should have to die for me to eat when it isn't a question of my survival. It's not like I'm choosing between the life of an animal and my own life. I'm choosing between the life of an animal and my own comfort and convenience!

"It is not a requirement to eat animals, we just choose to do it." - James Cameron

The bottom line is this: I have spent a lot of time researching and thinking out my decision to be a vegetarian.

I may be the first person to ever ask you this, but why are you an omnivore? I'm not asking you to change, I'm just suggesting a challenging of the status quo. If people constantly questioned, challenged, and sometimes even attacked you because of your choice of diet, how would you justify it to them? I encourage you to do the research, and start to really evaluate your choice to eat meat just like I've evaluated my choice to stop eating meat - because it is a choice on either side.

Why do we still struggle with sin?

Many times in the Old Testament, God tells Moses that he is giving the Israelites a land for their possession. However, twice he warns them that their inheritance will not be immediate - that it will take time. In Exodus 23:29-30 he says,

"I will not drive [the inhabitants of the land] out from before you in one year, lest the land become desolate and the wild beasts multiply against you. Little by little I will drive them out from before you, until you have increased and possessed the land."

And again, in Deuteronomy 7:22,

"The Lord your God will clear away these nations before you little by little. You may not make an end of them at once, lest the wild beasts grow too numerous for you."

This may seem like an unimportant detail in God's plan to bless the Israelites. At first glance, it - like a lot of the Old Testament - doesn't seem applicable to us today. But with a second glance, and perhaps some interpretive license, it may hit closer to home than we might realize.

Looking at the Old Testament story as an outsider, God's plan makes a lot of sense. The Israelites were too small to possess the land in its entirety, and they wouldn't have been able to keep the wild beasts at bay on their own. While God was more than able to clear the land in one fell swoop, he chose not to for the good of his chosen people. But imagine what it must have been like for the Israelites. They knew how powerful their God was, and knew what he was capable of. And yet here they're told that they have to spend years fighting battle after battle, slowly defeating one city at a time, slowly increasing in number, until they could receive their full inheritance. When God promised them their own land, I'm sure they didn't expect it to be so much work. After all, when God promises something, that means he will instantly provide it without any effort from us, right? I'm not saying he can't do that, but I don't believe he will the majority of the time. He's a good Father - he knows what's best for his children.

When we become Christians, God promises us salvation, and that is a free gift that we don't have to work for. However, the transformation that takes place within us doesn't come instantly or naturally - it takes work. God promises that "the old is gone and the new has come," but that doesn't mean that he snaps his fingers and makes us perfect.

In the story of the Israelites, he chose not to give them the land all at once because the wild beasts would take over. The term "wild beasts" generally refers to the animals that naturally inhabit the land. As humans, what is most natural to us? Pride. Arrogance. We so quickly and instinctually take credit for everything good, and discredit anything bad.

If God gave us instant victory over our enemies (the sin in our life, or even things like depression or other trials), we wouldn't praise him. We would praise ourselves for making such a big turnaround so fast! We would think, "I must be the greatest of all Christians, to have overcome my imperfections so completely." Or even, "God must love me more than everyone else." We would put ourselves on a pedestal, especially above non-Christians, hailing our perfection and pretentiously pitying the desperate condition of the unsaved soul. Even now, in our imperfection, we can be tempted to take this view of our lost brothers and sisters.

Overcoming our sin nature is a process. It's slow and arduous, fighting one battle at a time, making almost unnoticeable progress. But the struggle makes the victories that much more beautiful. And the constant reminder of how broken we are makes it impossible to even consider that we're victorious in our own strength, or that our good comes from us. God helps us triumph over our imperfections little by little as we learn to increase in his power and his strength. Weakness reminds us of who is really in control, and what a comforting reminder that is!

"Three times I begged the Lord for it to leave me, but his reply has been, 'My grace is enough for you: for where there is weakness, my power is shown the more completely.' Therefore, I have cheerfully made up my mind to be proud of my weaknesses, because they mean a deeper experience of the power of Christ. I can even enjoy weaknesses, insults, privations, persecutions and difficulties for Christ's sake. For my weakness makes me strong in him." 2 Corinthians 12:9-10 (Phillips)

The Only Constant

Contentment and discontentment are not based on our circumstances. We choose one or the other, completely based on our own state of mind, our own attitude.

When the Israelites were in Egypt, enduring horrible enslavement and persecution, they cried out for God to save them. After God saved them, they were trapped between the Red Sea and the pursuing Egyptians and wished they were back in Egypt, where they would at least be alive. Once God parted the Red Sea for them, they started complaining about hunger, missing the food they had in Egypt. God started giving them manna every day, but they got tired of it and longed for the meat they had in Egypt. The story continues like that, basically for the whole Old Testament.

As easy as it is to see and be annoyed by the Israelites' discontentment and poor memory of God's goodness, it's difficult for us to see that we are those Israelites.

We treat God like a vending machine: he should give us everything we want, and he should give it when, where, and how we specify. We ask for one thing after another after another, thinking that each new thing will satisfy us. And when every one lets us down, every time, we blame it on the one who provided the blessing in the first place. We have it all backwards! When worldly things fail us, why do we blame that which is not of this world? God gave it, but who asked for it?

Even more importantly, when will we realize that no amount of earthly blessings, even if they are God-given, can compare to God himself? When he blesses us with earthly things, when he answers our prayers, he doesn't give these things to fill us. He gives them because he is a loving Father who likes to give his children good gifts. It is our perversion, our lack of heavenly-mindedness, that makes us cling to what is finite, railing against what is infinitely good and infinitely loving and infinitely satisfying.

He is the only satisfaction. In him is the only end of our endless cravings.

When we were in our own Egypt, slaves to our sins, we cried for God to rescue us, and he did. But we still look for any opportunity to complain, to say that God isn't good or fair or loving. We even look back longingly on our former enslavement. We magnify the few positive things about our Egypt, while minimizing entirely what made us cry out for help. And at the same time, we magnify the negatives of our current situation, minimizing the blessings of God's provision and salvation. We are the inconsistent ones. We cause our own distress by choosing to see things this way. God is constant through all of our inconsistencies.

"If we are faithless, he remains faithful - for he cannot deny himself." 
2 Timothy 2:13

They're building a Mormon church in my town. Most of the Christians I know around here are upset, angry, and worried by it. Why, though? Why is it such a shock to us that there are people of other religions out there, doing the exact same things that we are to gain followers?

I'll tell you why: it's because of where we are. The "Bible Belt." The land where a church stands on just about every corner and there's not just a First Baptist Church but also a Second and maybe even a Third. It seems that we've forgotten about the world outside of our stained glass walls. And I'm not just talking about the nations. I'm talking about our nation. Our cities. Our neighbors. We think because there's so many churches there has to be a proportionate amount of Christians, but that simply isn't the case.

When we think about having a heart for the nations, it's almost easier for us to make that mean anywhere but where we are now. We talk about going places where we could be killed or imprisoned for our faith but we aren't willing to go next door and share the gospel with our neighbors. We can't be bothered to show kindness to the Mormons or Jehovah's Witnesses that knock on our doors. Are they less lost? Are they less broken and sinful? Are they not God's creation, worthy of love and compassion?

Our hearts break so easily for those so conveniently out of our reach.

As Christians, our mission field is our lives. I'm not saying that being a career missionary is required for Christians; I'm saying that we are called to be missionaries in whatever career, country, town, school, and life in which God has placed us. The calling on our lives is to be used by God in furthering his kingdom. Who are we to dictate what that looks like or where it happens? And who are we to turn down the opportunities that he puts in our lives for that very purpose?

"Declare his glory among the nations, his marvelous works among all the peoples!" Psalm 96:3

Change

Sometimes I sit and contemplate the enormity of how much brokenness there is in the world. I start to think, "There's too much. I'm only one person. I can't possibly hope to make any difference." But that is the very thinking that stops the world from changing for the better. However little a change is, it's still a change, and it adds up.

I am only one person, and I can only make small changes, but multiply that by the amount of people in the world, or even in America, and we've got a massive movement with the capacity to change the world. It isn't about individual initiative, it's about rallying together to do great things. So don't get discouraged. And don't give up. Because apathy is the biggest obstacle we have to overcome in the fight for change, for peace. The first step is learning to care for others as much as, if not more than, yourself. Because a life lived for yourself isn't worth living. We weren't created to do life alone.

I'm awake.

I'm starting to remember how to see beauty in the world. It's really as simple as looking up but sadly I had forgotten that was an option. Trees are my favorite. They are so incredibly imperfect, so crooked, twisted, rough. It's beautiful. The unpredictable curves of the branches form exquisite compositions and my eyes can't get enough of tracing the lines. Everything is art, and it fills me with an overwhelming desire to create. I need to respond somehow; I can't be a mere observer.

How did I forget this awe, this wonder? When did I close my eyes? I guess all that really matters is that I can see now, and I can't let myself shut down like that again.

Beauty is made on the journey to find it. It's as simple as putting one foot in front of the other. And once you've got the rhythm down, look up. Look around. Let your heart be filled with the beauty that surrounds you and when it starts to overflow, make something with the excess. It will be beautiful because it is made of beauty and you will love it because your heart produced it.


So, what are you waiting for?

   Get up.
                     Start walking.
   Look up.
                     Start seeing.
   Wake up.
                     Start smiling.