Hello, I Want Your Life

the way we use people.

Photo by Kelli McClintock on Unsplash

I told myself to stay off social media that day—to simply let the day pass without giving myself any more reasons to feel like I was missing out. I shamed myself for feeling sad like a teenager or something. I mean, goodness, I’m getting mighty close to 40 to have the same types of feelings I had as a teen. I thought I was past this.

The pictures scrolled through my feed, one by one. So many pictures of fellow authors and friends all in the same place. I was invited. But, if I’m honest, I didn’t feel invited in. Maybe the aesthetically pleasing invitation made it’s way into my mailbox by way of pity. I knew this wasn’t true. I knew that if I had gone, I would have been embraced.

But maybe not. Maybe I would have ended up in a pretty dress, stashing myself away in a corner thinking What am I even doing here?, creepily watching as women I only kinda know smile and pose for pictures together. The Christian writing world can sometimes feel like high school again, just with way nicer people.

I realize how petty all this sounds. I realize that there is no fruit in thinking this much about what others think about me. I also know the pain of being on the outskirts—of wanting to be invited into a certain group and knowing it just isn’t going to happen. I know how that kind of rejection (even if it is not intended) scrapes against the heart like sand paper.

God knew we would struggle in this way. He knows our sinful propensity toward impartiality. We are so drawn to those who have big platforms and big opportunities. We have to ask ourselves why? Of course, some want fame. But many of us want to be known by those who are well-known because we want them to validate our worth and affirm our gifts. If they love us, others will too. If they approve of us, then our worth will be established. James 2 commands us to “show no partiality as you hold the faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.” (v. 1) This passage is about the sin of showing honor to the rich and dishonoring the poor. But do we not do this too? Do we not wish to be seated at the table of the well-known? Many of us have wonderful Bible teachers in our congregations with no online ministry but are indifferent toward them. Yet we gush over Jen Wilkin. I know I have in the past.

Have you ever been in a conversation at church and felt a pull to join a different one across the room? Instead of finding those on the fringes, we try to get close to the people everyone seems to adore. God has called us to love others, but instead, we use them. We use our fellow image-bearers to lift us up so that we would be known, that we would find the affirmation we seek.

God, humble me, I am so prone to self-exaltation. Meanwhile, I have wonderful friends right in front of my face or at the tap of the Voxer button. People who have walked with me through some of the most painful seasons of my life. People who, if they saw me hiding in a corner at a party, would grab my arm, tell me I’m being silly, and drag me back in.

But wait, there’s more. Where impartiality is, you will almost always find envy. If I’m brutally honest with myself, in these moments my heart is not just saying I want to be friends with certain people, it’s also saying, I want her financial stability, her kids who can stay at their grandparents while she flies across the country, her friend group, her opportunities, her readership. I want her life.

Are you utterly sick of me yet? I am. But isn’t this what we do? We want the body of this girl and the vacations of that one. We want the obedience of one mom’s children and the marriage of our friend. We want that house, that book deal, that speaking opportunity, that promotion, that pay grade, that friend group. We’re all too busy wanting each other’s lives to enjoy the beautiful life we have. The life God planned for us. The best life for us.

When we live this way, other people become a threat to our happiness—a temptation toward envy—rather than people on different paths who God has called us to love. Love does not envy. But man, we sure do. In our flesh we envy all the time. If our thoughts were exposed as words many of us would walk up to someone and say, “Hello, my name is Brittany and I want your life. Let’s be friends so I can feel valued and people will love me like they love you.” God created humans in his image and we come along trying to use them for our own gain and glory. God help us—help me.

I had forgotten about the word “vainglory” until this week. When we seek our own kingdom rather than God’s, there is no better word to describe it than vainglory. We are chasing our own glory for the sake of vanity. And all of it is in vain. Because it is never enough, is it? Has it ever been enough for you?

“My heart is drawn to self-exalting. Help me seek Your kingdom first.”¹ I hum the words with tears and as a prayer today. I long for a humility that is marked by seeking not my own kingdom, but his. I want, so deeply, to be free from the sin and self-remembrance that sometimes grips my mind like a bear trap. Because I know, as Tim Keller says, there is freedom in self-forgetfulness.²

This is what we always must come back to: look away from ourselves to Christ, serve others, and seek his kingdom. When we do this, pride will be hushed. Impartiality and envy will taste so sour we will quickly spit it out. And Christ will be formed in us more and more. We will trust him when his plans are different than what we had hoped.

On the way to church on Sunday, our two-year-old son said sweetly, “Mommy, God made all those trees.” All weekend I wanted to be somewhere else. But God kept me close to home and I got to hear my son’s little voice testify to the glory of God. I’m so glad I didn’t miss out.

1. "Your Will Be Done," on CityAlight, Single, 2020.

2. Timothy Keller, The Freedom of Self Forgetfulness: The Path to True Christian Joy, 2012, http://ci.nii.ac.jp/ncid/BB17359090.

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