There are certain seasons of my life where envy eats away at me like my kids sneaking Christmas baking off the back deck. It is sneaky, this envy, triggered gently but persistently in the back of my head and heart with a simple comment or phrase.
It happens in the happiness of others, bouncing off of their successes, their abilities, and their talents. The wishful thoughts in my head of ‘why not me’ or ‘when is it my turn?’.
I wish it wasn’t so, and sometimes it’s not, really. But then other times it hits me like a wave and there’s a difficult time for a while.
What I don’t want is for other people to have less. I just want what I have and then more. I want to be involved in all of the places and do all of the things.
Not very flattering, is it?
But it is true, sometimes.
I can attribute and try to brush off these feelings as too much sugar, too little water, decompressing after a semester of teaching, the restlessness of being done one major project and not yet immersed in another.
The cry of my heart saying ‘am I a contributing, matter-ing, member of society?’.
As it always does, God’s word through Scripture helps to sort me out. Today, the third Sunday of Advent, we read part of the Magnificat, Mary’s song of worship and conquest while visiting Elizabeth. (Luke 1:39-55)
As I look to Mary, see the gratitude and I’ll come back to that, but as I read her song, what can I learn from her perspective on envy, identity, and comparison?
Mary might not, by many, have been seen as one offering huge contribution to society. Her unmarried, pregnant state would have made others look to her as an abomination at worst, a drain on resources and a burden at best. Because of her circumstances, past and present, she would not have been the one to live upon accolades. Her honor would have come from doing what was required and fitting in, serving well, worshipping well, doing the expected.
Yet, there she was, the bearer of the Almighty, the Messiah, the Saviour of her people.
She didn’t grasp. she didn’t think, ‘finally, I have the place and love I wanted’.
No, what she had was a heart full of worship in a circumstance that from the outside looked like more curse than blessing. The prayer of her heart was “The Almighty has done great things for me”.
What a lesson to learn from her. That the presence of the living Christ within her gave her a surety of self, a consciousness of the goodness of God and a rootedness of identity.
Because Christ was within her, the world would be changed.
My hope and prayer and lesson from her experience is that I would be changed and rooted by the presence of Christ in me. I bear Christ’s image and imprint. For that reason, my worth is secured. I don’t need to strive so hard to feel like I belong. I do.
That knowledge and a focus on gratitude helps me. What are the great things the Almighty has done for me?
Hope, health, family, presence, tea, the smell of our Christmas tree, sunbeams and afghans, technology to connect us, and songs of worship to sing. These things and so much more the Almighty has done for me, for all of us.