Dare NOT to Compare

“Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone.” (1 Corinthians 12.4-6, NRSV)

This passage brought be me back to my grade school days and one of my least favorite experiences, being chosen for teams, because cliché as it might be, I was often the last to be picked. I was (OK and still am) slow, clumsy, uncoordinated, so far from the ideal member of most sports teams.

This is also when I first became aware of the human penchant for comparison. Whether for athletic, or academic, or musical ability, or wardrobe, or economics, or job title, or school pedigree, the list goes on, and continues throughout our lives. And let’s face it, comparing ourselves over and against one another is rarely good for our mental health!

I was not serving in a parish call when the pandemic began, and I remember not envying my colleagues who were forced to pivot and learn new techniques and technologies, this new way of being church, seemingly overnight.

Fast forward to November 2020. I found myself returning to parish ministry. Here I was adjusting to ministry mediated more by screens and phone calls than the face-to-face encounters that drew me into ministry in the first place.

And that specter of comparison began to rear its ugly head again.

I was far behind the learning curve. While other leaders and congregations and communities had lively interactive, beautiful streaming worship services, my congregation was recording pieces of the liturgy which were expertly edited and uploaded to YouTube by a single devoted parishioner.

All it took was one look at the shares on my Facebook feed and I was instantly back in the middle school gymnasium at the end of the line, last to be picked.

There was disappointment, frustration, and shame that I couldn’t seem to grasp some of these techniques that others had seemed to master so many months ago.

But then I heard stories of gratitude from the parishioners that I was beginning to know and love.

Those who hadn’t been to worship for years because of health or access to transportation could now hear God’s Word proclaimed from the same space they had been married and raised their children in decades ago. They could sing along to beloved hymns as our musician played. They could finally worship again see their beloved church there at home.

For them, for us, it was enough. It was a blessing.

And finally for me, I’d remembered another lesson I had been learning myself since early in the pandemic era.

It is OK.

It is OK for to us be where we are; just where we need to be.

We are called into specific communities, with specific needs, and specific skills. We are sustained, and nurtured, and grow in our own time and our own way, just as Paul reminds to that young church in Corinth.

Through this new lens, I have learned to see the great work as my colleagues not as shame or criticism of my own, but inspiration. As an invitation to explore and stretch my imagination and my abilities. Even more, I am reminded that in own way and in our own time God is working something new in and through us, and we are, all of us, called to proclaim this God of grace and love in ways just as unique and wonderful as we are, both individually, and part of this beautiful Body of Christ to which we belong.

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