So this may sound pretty silly, but sometimes I like to think that the Apostle James wrote the Book of James just for me. I mean virtually every scripture in those short five chapters convicts me on a daily basis. It can be uncomfortable at times, because no one really enjoys having their mistakes neatly lined up in a row, one by one, with specific details. But they're all there: testing of your faith, hearing and doing the word, the sin of partiality, faith without works is dead, and so on.
I've always loved James, since my first "dabbles" into the gospel back in junior high. Its verses are usually the most prominent in my memory bank, and James 4:8 is stitched onto the back of my high school letterman. He keeps it short, simple, and to the point, outlining how we should live authentically and wisely for Christ.
You can just imagine how elated I was this morning at The Crossing, my home church here in Missouri, when Pastor Keith Simon opened the sermon with a verse from James 3.
Before reading from the Word, he looked at the congregation and asked, "Who are you in conflict with today?"
It was a simple question that struck me with an odd answer. The first word that came to mind was "me" -- I am in conflict with myself. I have been facing extreme inner battles lately and cannot seem to stop fighting with Alix.
The rest of the message was geared towards the importance of community and relationships to the faith, and how we handle conflict from a cultural perspective and how this method does not coincide with what the Bible tells us. Overall, the sermon focused on "one another" but my mind was set on "me, myself, and I."
As I've said in my previous blog posts, I tend to struggle with self-image and a lack of confidence. It's gotten a bit more intense over the past few weeks, and I'm confused as to why this insecurity has popped up so suddenly. I haven't experienced it quite like this before, and, in high school especially, I've always walked around with my head held high -- granted, a bit too high. But now, living so far away from my comfort zone of suburban Texas, separated from the friends I've known since childhood, and forced into new situations that test my strength and ability to accept varying lifestyles, I lack confidence at least 90% of the time. I mean, I am a girl. I have the typical girly doubts of most females: I envy blonde hair and blue eyes, I think my thighs are massive, and I wish my frame was more petite. But that's no justification for not loving myself as the woman God created me to be.
Lately my jealous tendencies have escalated, as I constantly compare myself to my peers on very materialistic and surface matters -- which obviously waves a red flag in my mind. I know that I am not of this world. I know that I have a Father who loves me more than I could ever comprehend. And I know that material possessions and the luxuries of this life do not in any way carry over into the next. For these reasons, I'm even more confused as to why my jealousy has intensified as my spirituality has strengthened. I've grown a lot in my walk with God since moving here, but this is one obstacle that I haven't found a way over.
Luckily, my boy James knows just what to say to make me think.
James 3:13-15 states:
"Who is wise and understanding among you? By his good conduct let him show his works in the meekness of wisdom. But if you have bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast and be false to the truth. This is not wisdom that comes down from above, but is earthly, unspiritual, demonic."
It's a correlation that hasn't clicked for me before -- how of this world jealousy is. A paragraph ago, I said I am not of this world. But my jealousy? It is. It's earthly, unspiritual, demonic. So why do I let it take over me in times of weakness? I wish the answer was complex and illogical, but it's actually extremely simple: the devil creeps in. It's satan getting into my head and screaming at me, cursing at my inabilities and guilting me into believing that I am of little worth. When he screams loud enough, I listen. I give up on fighting back and telling myself that I am lovely. Instead, I grovel in self-pity and list off numerous faults and imperfections. I wave a white flag so the screaming will stop. But by letting the devil win, I give him permission to come back in an hour and shout profanities into my mind once again.
And then I question why my life is chaos. Why I can't seem to get a grip on how these emotions take over me and why I am often bitter about life, angry towards other people, and quick to spit poison. Fortunately, James gives it to me straight in verse 16.
"For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice."
When my heart is full of bitter jealousy, it is vulnerable to confusion. I'll be the first to admit that I am not as strong as the facade I put on every day. I have a very weak emotional complex -- which I am working on as well -- yet I believe that I can do everything on my own. I don't want help. I like to be independent. I like to be ambitious. I like to selfishly think that I have every tool I'll ever need to solve any problem that arises in my life.
But let's get real. Out of the 19 years of life that I've had thus far, the past 10 months have been the hardest. And they've especially been a testimony to the need I have for God's guiding hand, comforting arms, and loving spirit. I just can't do it all. If I continue to believe that I can get over this jealousy hurdle on my own, the disorder and vile practice will continue. And the self-loathing, constant doubt and unshakeable insecurity will follow.
Theodore Roosevelt once said, "comparison is the thief of joy." That statement rings with an incredible amount of pertinence and truth. It's written on my mirror and all over my journal. It's a daily reminder of the dangers of my tendencies.
I am a joyful person -- when I am not drowning in envy. I have to learn how to swim.
So this is me, promising myself and my readers and my Lord to try a little bit harder. Not to do it on my own, but to lay it down for Him. I'm too proud and too plagued by selfish ambition to kick the habit of bitter jealousy. This can be a "God thing" if I just let go...but I have to invite Him in first.
