Everyone knows that girl who they just want to be.
Don't lie. We all have one.
That girl who just has it all together. The one who can wear the ugliest outfit known to man and still look perfect. Or maybe the one who can say quirky things and everyone thinks it's just so funny. Or maybe even the one who gets an edgy haircut and suddenly the whole world starts doing the same thing.
I've seen my fair share of them in my life, and I've given them far too much attention.
If I could only be funnier, thinner, wittier, smarter. If my hair weren't so curly, my cheek bones weren't so weird, hips weren't so wide. If I were a little more graceful, loving, patient, faithful.
If I were anyone but me, then life would be easier.
I've spent the better part of my life enslaved to the beast of comparison. Never content with being myself, I constantly adapted bits and pieces of my personality from outside places. I'm notorious for quoting certain episodes of The Office and most of my mannerisms were learned from Lorelai Gilmore. All fashion choices and hairstyles were only chosen once someone else had proven it was cool, but I'd take my own subtle twist on it so I could seem original. There isn't anything I can distinctly call my own, because my traits and mannerisms are really a collection of the places and people I've encountered.
A lot of my friends like to say I've "served my time" on all girls mission trip teams. For the past two summers, comparison and I have dealt with community in a group of women. That alone could inspire it's own blog series, but just know that the best place for comparison to thrive and destroy is in a group of all female missionaries in a foreign country. Someone is always less disgusting, totally perfect despite all the sweat and humidity. Someone always loves the Lord more than you do, someone is always much more graceful and selfless, always speaks with more wisdom and discerns more clearly and sacrifices more and is basically just an all around better person. Some shine and some fall behind, and somehow it seems I always fall in the latter.
I'm not graceful. I'm not selfless. Humidity makes my hair shame a Chia pet and my skin glisten in the most unflattering way. I second guess everything I think God is telling me, because surely it's just my own voice.
After 20 years of living with comparison, it starts to weigh down on you. It may not seem like it, but hating yourself takes a lot of work. It's tiring, it's ugly, and frankly it's just not worth it.
So I quit. Simple as that, I quit.
Well, it wasn't simple really. It was a really messy, tear stained, broken process.
But the decision in itself was simple.
"For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother's womb.
14 I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them,"
– Psalm 139:13-16
I wasn't made to be someone else. I wasn't a mistake. I'm flawed by my sin and my human nature, but who I am was never wrong. Long before I was even a thought, God carefully, lovingly, and intentionally formed me as an intricate masterpiece. He saw who I would become, what He made me for, and He was glad. He scripted a plan for me. My purpose isn't a haphazard doodle on a coffee shop napkin. My story is a best selling novel, carefully planned and woven together with great intent.
"For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them,"
– Ephesians 2:10
He made me just the way He saw fit and loves me more than I can ever even begin to understand. When God sees me, He doesn't see the girl who laughs too loudly and pierces with sarcasm. He sees a beautiful daughter whose off key singing and fumbled steps bring Him more joy than anything else. When my Papa looks down upon me, He doesn't see the girl held down by comparison, broken in need of change, to be more like this or more like that. Instead, He sees Sarah, His perfect creation who is choosing to walk forward and dance in the freedom of knowing that she is indeed fearfully and wonderfully made. He sees a world changer, a faithful servant, a chosen daughter fighting for His kingdom. My efforts aren't in vain, my journeys are not without purpose, my steps are not unseen. He loves me, He chose me, He set me apart for beautiful things. The blood of a Savior has washed me clean.
And simply because He is good and He is merciful, He covers me with steadfast love. He rejoices in the fact that I am His and He is mine. Through Him, I have slain the beast of comparison
And I am free, so beautifully free.
