Dirty Rims. Freedom.

Here's what I hate: my dirty rims.

Her rims were dirtier than mine and this made me so happy that I took a picture.

What in the world am I talking about?

Well, last week, as I was getting in my Volvo, I happened to notice that the white Mercedes SUV parked next to me had filthy rims.  They were even blacker than my poor wheels.  I’m not sure why I tend to notice when cars have shiny rims.  If it’s that big a deal to me, you’d think I’d get down there with some super cleaning fluid and shine mine up!

But, instead, I compare.

If I see a car with shiny rims, I feel self-conscious about my own gray ones.  But, when I saw that lovely white Mercedes had dirty rims, it made me feel better.

I tend towards playing this comparison game about a LOT of things.  Look at it one way, and I feel horribly lacking—like when I see or hear about all the women out there who eat only organic food, cook elaborate, healthy meals for their families, home school their eleventeen children all while grinding their own wheat and writing high-trafficked blogs about it.  Those women’s rims shine like the top of the Chrysler building.  I hang my head in deficiency. 

BUT, then I see the mom at the baseball game feeding her 18-month old Diet Coke and Cheetos for dinner—her kids probably watch R-rated movies, play video games and don’t know how to read. 

It’s awful, but when I step into a house that is messier than mine or see kids who behave worse than mine, I get all puffed up.  I’m in 5^th grade all over again silently making fun of other people’s deficiencies to make myself feel better about my own. 

It’s ugly.

We live our whole lives comparing.  She can run faster than me.  I can write better than her.  She can sing.  I can’t.  I’m on time for class.  She over-sleeps all the time.  She cooks gourmet meals.  I buy packaged stuff and act like I made it.  I have less clothes than she does…but, mine are nicer.  She has better furniture than I do.  My kids run faster than those other kids.  Her daughter is more well-behaved than mine.  I’m tanner. 

She’s taller. 

I’m fatter. 

She’s cuter. 

I’m nicer.

She’s funnier.

We compare ourselves and feel horrible.  So, we compare ourselves to feel better.

The thing is, comparing sucks the life out of you. 

I know you know what I am talking about.  You compare your abs to the girl’s on the magazine cover and feel hideous.  Or, you compare yourself to the obese person in the airport and feel strangely smug. 

Despair in one direction, pride in the other. 

Neither is God’s will for your soul.

Those of us who are in Christ are a new creation! 

You are God’s creation and He has a very unique work for you to do.  You may not fix organic gourmet meals with lovely “tablescapes” that you saw on Pintrest, but news flash: GOD doesn’t care about that crap.  No one gets into heaven based upon the cuteness of their house/clothes/kids or the cleanness of their wheel rims.  We get to be with God only because of Jesus.  He is the only perfect one.  Compare yourself to Christ and He will out-run, out-cook, out-clean, out-write, out-wit, out-shine, out-sing, out-Pintrest you every time.  EVERY time.  Then, the good news…when God looks at us (who have believed in Christ), He sees Jesus.  

This fact dissolves our despair and destroys our pride. 

Christ gets all the glory, no matter what we do. 

When we use our talent of cooking or organizing or photography or writing or hugging or gift-giving or smiling or reading or kissing or encouraging, we have the opportunity to give glory to God by acknowledging that He gave us the strength and resources to do it. 

In reality, our purpose is to please Him.

To live for Him.

To serve Him.

To glorify Him.

To share Him with others.

This week I’ve realized that I need to stop comparing myself to others and start recognizing Jesus in me.  I can ask Him what He’s gifted me to do in this day, in this moment and then do it for Him. 

Living like this may not mean clean rims, but it definitely means freedom!—Freedom from the burden of comparison.  Freedom from worrying that I’m not good enough.  Freedom from pride which subtly becomes a noose cutting off the breath of God to my soul.

Now, my eyes flutter open to the freedom of doing everything by His strength and for Him alone.