Comparison and Doubt: Thieves of Joy and Hope

A long while back, I wrote a piece for another blog titled “Comparison Is the Thief of Joy”. Because let’s face it, friends. It is. When our gaze is fixed on the well-being of others, of their successes and failures; joy and sorrow, with the intent of measuring our own in comparison, the joy is what suffers. The post shared in gloriously embarrassing detail about the insanity of my then five and two-year-old children in Target. My two young children, in Target on Black Friday because laundry detergent couldn’t wait. I’m still laughing at myself for that trip, and still shocked at my dismay that the store was a madhouse, and that the children wanted all of the things on the attractive displays that just-so-happened to be within both their octo-toddler reach and need all of the things eye-level.

I was a single mother of two, then. I lived at the top of a hill in a decaying house. Literally-- The foundation was crumbling. More than once the electricity failed for structural reasons. The gas too. Even the water was out for two weeks once. In faith, I stepped out every day to enter an office which blessed me in so many ways; but to partake, I left my children with utter strangers. I went to work. I paid the bills as best as I could manage. I kept our heads above the ever deepening water, that is life as a single mother. I would look at those around me, from previous life and current: “Their family is so happy. All of them. Together. They definitely enjoyed Thanksgiving together. I’ll bet they played cards as they enjoyed coffee and pie. How did they become so cohesive, while mine… Mine crumbled? Why are their kids so chill? What did they do? What AM I DOING? (Besides failing, CLEARLY. Obviously.)” It left me in a pit of depression and despair every time. Guys, this thought process did NOTHING but cause me to stumble over my own sinful and fumbling feet, seeking any excusable comfort in the process, and led me in the direction of self, rather than of His will. I’m not talking willingness and discernment to DO something, but simple acceptance that He truly was in control the entire time. Eventually, I got it. And when I got it, it was like God relented His greatest gift to me. “Now, you silly girl, you are ready.”

Life has changed so much since then. I’ve remarried. The crazies are now five and eight and I have another amazing eight-year-old to add to my amazing family of then three, now five. All three kids are in school this fall. I no longer work full time and need to entrust the loves of my life to strangers, but stay home to raise my babies, and work as a family photographer part time. God has blessed our lives beyond my wildest expectations since that panicked period. The whole time. It was all panic. Paranoia. Comparison and doubt. I realize the grammatical error in placing periods rather than commas there, but I want the finality of those states of mind noted. I went there and I would stay there. I knew God was in control, but you know how doubt noses its way in. The still small, but confident voice deep within my soul that knew God had a plan which would ultimately come to be, despite my fumbled attempts at taking my life and my plans into my own hands. “You’ll never remarry again. These kids are going to fail, and it’ll be your fault. This is the consequence for YOUR sin, and you’ll pay it for the rest of your life.” There were glimpses of grace and of hope in between the gaping holes of doubt, but they were few. Because you see, doubt is the thief of hope, and in that, of faith and trust.

These thoughts seem to be intertwined within the seasons of my life as a whole. It causes me a small amount of frustration, when I sit down and consider that all could have been just so different, had I even attempted to see life beyond the stance of that of a victim of their own poor choices. Beyond the time of crisis, I still revert back… Comparison mostly with those whose children are slightly less zany. Doubt of anyone and everything in between… But I catch it now. As the enemy whispers the lies, “they don’t like you because… I should show them why they should… You’re not worthy of this person’s love…” I can stop it, and say, “maybe so, but what then? I am a daughter of the King, declared deserving of His love, His presence in my heart, entrusted with HIS purpose. His purpose which led me here; His purpose which has never left me, or forsaken me, but only brought me closer to the woman I’ve dreamt my whole life of becoming.

These things… I mean they sound really fuzzy, and churchy, and dreamy eyed. Honestly, the woman of five years passed would have read these words and thought, “well that’s awful squishy, but why doesn’t she sit in my shoes, in my mire, in my regret and pain, and then tell me about the grace and glory of later on?" Go on, that’s real. It’s okay. I simply have this to say, your pain is real. Your anguish is not a figment of your imagination. But there’s more to life than this moment of despair. Look beyond it, and believe in hope and joy. It’s here now, and it’s in the days and weeks and years and forever to come. Close the doors of regret, and doubt, and comparison, and relax in the hope and joy that is the loving arms of your Savior. He is real in this moment, and in the time to come. You cannot have comparison and doubt, but still have joy and hope. Choose joy and hope. You can fail, but remind yourself of these truths, and revel in what our Savior will do as you walk in pursuit of faith, and righteousness.

Already have a story of hope and joy despite comparison and doubt? Maybe a prayer request? Please share it in the comments, and let us praise or pray alongside you!

written by Rachel