One of the most heart-rending moments I've experienced as a parent was calling home from the office one afternoon to hear the results of my then-9-year-old son's student council election.
Between sobs, he told me that he lost. He was heartbroken, and I was helpless to do anything about it.
Later, I watched him, his sisters and their friends do battle in the cutthroat world of college applications and admissions.
Today, I have a friend who gets an email, every single day, telling him where he ranks in his company's nationwide sales force.
For as long as I can remember, a lot of life has been about competition — coming out on top, being better than someone else.
Every once in a while, I'll read something and a sentence will reach off the page and clobber me. Recently, it was a simple statement written by renowned spiritual writer Henri Nouwen: "We are brothers and sisters, not competitors and rivals." That's not exactly earth-shattering stuff; it's a pretty basic truth of faith. But it's one that has the power to profoundly change my life, if I'll let it.
I understand that competition is necessary in a lot of situations, and that it can be downright healthy sometimes. But at our most human level, where we're all pretty much the same, I think it has the power to rob us of our best and highest life.
Competition usually leads to comparison, and going there can be a trip to a dark and dangerous place.
All of us have a strong desire for affirmation and recognition, a need to feel that we're "special." I'd like to blame mine on growing up with five siblings, but the fact is that this desire comes standard in the human equipment package.
And we are special. Jesus says, "The hairs on your head are numbered," and Psalm 139 tells us, "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb." Throughout scripture, God assures us that we matter to Him, individually.
It's just that we're not more special than anyone else, and that's where the problem can be. My default mode has been to view others as the competitors that Nouwen mentions. We want to measure ourselves against others — and to come out ahead. We want to be more this and more that (including more spiritual) than most people. While that may be a natural desire, I don't think it's necessarily a healthy one.
Life with God isn't about competition; it's not something you can win. I don't think it's possible to get more of His attention than others do, or to be more deserving of it. And it shouldn't be.
At times, I've suffered from a world-class case of schadenfreude, a German term for enjoying the misfortunes of others, thinking that maybe the screw-ups of others boosted me in the divine standings. And I don't think I'm alone. Nouwen also says, "That which is most personal is most universal," and I think he's right.
There's something very liberating about accepting, and trying to live, the fact that we're all brothers and sisters, children of God. It frees me to want, and to work for, what's best for others in my life. It frees me to celebrate their successes, and to love them without jealousy. Most of all, it frees me from the constant strain of having to be ahead of them. I can just be with them, and we can travel together.
What a huge relief.
I believe God is very personal, and more aware of what's going on in my mind and heart than I am. That's wonderful to know, but I can't stake any unique claim on Him — He's in the know about every other person on the planet, too. His attention is far broader, deeper and more vast than I can know.
Being a part of His family is a life-changing gift. I shouldn't need to be the favorite son.
I'd like to drop out of that competition.





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