I found a moment today; or rather, a moment found me. Collapsing onto my bed after a hard days work and with Zoe Keating playing in the background, I opened right up to 1 Cor. 9:22. Paul has a way of punching me in the face no matter how many times I read his letters. I am no Paul; and yet I was called to be like one much better; the best; the Perfect One.
I am a woman, and as such, I play the comparison game. But to whom am I comparing myself? Lately, it seems, not to anyone that matters. I will never be that cool girl, you know, the one with beautiful thick dreadlocks and tattoos and piercings; or that serenely beautiful girl; the flawless tall one, graceful and talented. As much confidence and love as I have for myself, for who and how God made me, I still idiotically find myself occasionally playing the comparison game with them, most of the time subconsciously. This time I am conscious of it, and conscious of the fact that I'm comparing myself to an image, an idea, a concept...imperfection; a mist, a vapor. What a distraction. What a blasted waste of time. And for what? What exactly am I afraid of?
Like Paul, I must be all things to all people. That means setting my mind not on foolishness but on Love. Love--which is patient, kind, rejoices with the truth, bears, believes, hopes, endures, doesn't envy or boast, isn't arrogant or rude, doesn't insist on its own way, isn't irritable or resentful, and is...fearless. Fearless. Now that is something to play the comparison game with. Thanks again, God, for using Paul to giving me another moment.
