All I Need Is Jesus and a Good Pair of Jeans: The Tired Supergirl's Search for Grace (7 page)

8

I AM JEALOUS
OF MY FRIENDS

I
have friends who are kind and talented. Supergirls who own their own businesses and have multiple degrees. They have lovely homes and beautiful families. I have friends who travel the world and see fantastic places and eat spectacular food. I have friends who have given their lives to the pursuit of Jesus, sacrificing comfort and pleasure for taking news of him to the deep reaches of the earth. My friend Leslie is a lawyer. Ever since she was a little girl she wanted to be a lawyer. She has a gift for seeing the truth in things and is willing to fight for it. Nothing has swayed her from her dream. I think she is, quite possibly, brilliant. I am not jealous of Leslie. I love her and I am truly amazed by her, but I am not jealous of her. I am not jealous of her because I do not want to be a lawyer. I would be a terrible lawyer. I can never tell who is telling the truth. I am way too naïve and gullible to be a lawyer.

So maybe I am not jealous of my friends after all and this chapter is all just a lot of hype because I wanted to tell you one more thing that was wrong with me. That would be great, wouldn’t it? I would like that to be my reality. I would like to genuinely appreciate each and every person God has put in my life, the places he is leading them, and the gifts he has given them. I would like to think of myself as a gracious, tired supergirl who wishes good things on all people and hopes for joy and happiness to rain down on everyone around me. I try not to get caught up in comparing and contrasting my life with those who live around me. I know there is nothing to be gained by stacking up my life, my talents, my belongings, my family, or my dreams against those of the next person. But there is the odd occasion when it doesn’t matter how much I know that, I still feel that hot stab of jealousy. Just this morning I had an envy-ridden moment. A pea-green fit of jealousy overtook me and zapped the joy out of my morning. For goodness’ sake.

Ever since I was little, I have wanted to be a writer. I wrote stories and poems and more stories and more poems, because I have a love affair with words. It wasn’t until I was in my twenties that I began pursuing my dream of being a published author. I was naïve enough to think,
Hey, I will
show my stuff to someone and they will think, “Here it is!
The answer to all we have ever been looking for in a writer!
Brilliant!”

I went to writers’ conferences and talked with publishers. I met with agents. I submitted pieces for publication. And I was rejected. Over and over. One by one, they handed my dream back to me. And I got some really mean rejection letters. Really mean. But I knew this was my path. And while I would cry, with the mean letter in hand, inevitably I would sit back down at the computer and begin typing away again, because it was in me. I had this thing in my gut, moving me forward, writing. Every year my writer friends would say, “This is your year to get published.”

And it wasn’t. I had no jealousy issues with my friends who had gotten published before me, who were getting published continually, while I was not getting published at all.

It was the people who had joined the writing path after me and had gotten published before me that really made me go nuts. Take today, for instance. I heard of someone who apparently started writing a blog. Just a little here’s-what-happens-in-my-day kind of blog. But apparently, three gazillion people read the blog and forwarded it to their four gazillion friends, and now because of this blog, which I’m sure is fantastic, this person is getting published. Because of a blog. Not years of heart-wrenching blood and guts writing, attending conferences, or sending out dozens of manuscripts, but a blog. Did I mention it was just a blog? Do you see, tired supergirls, the bitterness, the violent resentment, the inability to rejoice with another person who is passionate about the same thing that I am passionate about, that is pouring from me? That is jealousy. Now I said I am not jealous of my friends, but when I called my sister Erica to tell her about this travesty, she said, “Apparently, you are jealous of your friends, your enemies, and people you don’t even know at all.”

So we had a good laugh. And then I had to ask Jesus to forgive me because she is right. Why does she have to be right? I don’t care about my friends who have lots of money or sparkling careers in neurobiology or those who spend time in the Amazon or work in journalism. I am so happy for them. I rejoice for them in their adventures and their successes. But there is this seven-year-old who lives in my head, Little Miss No Fair, who has this piercing whine, and for the love of all that is good and right, she cannot be silenced.

“Why does that person get published after writing a blog?

No fair!”

Or, “Why don’t I ever get the easy life, the good job, the attentive boyfriend, the [you put in the thing you are jealous of], the Barbie playhouse . . . blah, blah, blah . . . no fair!”

She’s a killer, tired supergirls. Yes, she is. A joy killer. A hope killer. A gratitude killer. That whole “no fair” thing kills many a blessing that comes our way.

Jealousy is another word that needs to be defined for us supergirls. The type of jealousy I am talking about is not the type that rears up when we think our boyfriend is cheating on us or the type that God has for his relationship with us. The type of jealousy that has wormed its way into our superhearts is the type that is envious of the advantages that others have or that resents their successes. The type of jealousy that erupts when we think someone may displace us or our position in life. The kind of jealousy that hopes someone won’t be more successful than we are or surpass us with their greatness. It’s the type of jealousy that springs from a fear that they will be or are already better than us in some way or that they will accomplish more than we will.

This type of jealousy seems to lie low and bury itself until someone does something or has something that we have been longing for or pining for in our heart of hearts. It creeps in when someone succeeds and we begin to fear that they will overshadow us, or worse, make who we are seem obsolete. This jealousy mushrooms when someone leapfrogs over us and becomes the person we have dreamed of becoming. It can move us to think things or say things or even do things to try and stifle their success. It’s pretty ugly. And in all of our maturity, we feel like shrieking, “Hey, no fair!” And then all there is left in our mouths is that ugly aftertaste of thinking,
I wish that was me.

Jealousy will make us tired supergirls crazy. Crazy. Because when we are jealous, we decide to give up our life in the pursuit of someone else’s. Now that sounds foolish, doesn’t it, when you think about it. Here God has gone and created you as a unique and precious individual, a complete original with personality, gifts, and talents that are only yours. He has gone so far as to knit you together in your mother’s belly and knows how many hairs he has on your head, even the gray ones, or falsely colored ones, as it may be. He thinks of you more often than there are grains of sand on the beach. That is a whole lot of thoughts. But when we are jealous, we are saying that is not enough. Nope, we don’t like this life that God has given us, this person we are; we would like someone else’s life. Someone else’s successes. Someone else’s advantages. Someone else’s path. And that jealousy can chase away any joy or hope that God has given us on our own path or journey. Jealousy is we supergirls saying, “I would like to choose crazy over contentment.”

Because jealousy does make you crazy. You are filled with bitterness and envy over someone or something that would never have come your way in the first place. Herod is the perfect example of this. Herod, who I’m pretty sure never sought God or followed his precepts a day in his life, hears there is a baby being born who will be king. The Messiah. The savior of the Jewish people. And he loses it. Really loses it.

Jesus was born in the town of Bethlehem in Judea, during the reign of King Herod. About that time some wise men from eastern lands arrived in Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We have seen his star as it arose, and we have come to worship him.”

Herod was deeply disturbed by their question, as was all of Jerusalem. He called a meeting of the leading priests and teachers of religious law. “Where did the prophets say the Messiah would be born?” he asked them.

“In Bethlehem,” they said, “for this is what the prophet wrote:

‘O Bethlehem of Judah, you are not just a lowly village in Judah, for a ruler will come from you who will be the shepherd for my people Israel.’ ”

Matthew 2:1–6

Immediately, Herod is jealous. He loves the power he has being king. He doesn’t want anyone messing with his kingly designs. He does not want there to be another king. He likes his cushy day job. He doesn’t want to be supplanted by Jesus or anyone else. I’m sure Little Miss No Fair was lurking behind some palace corner, whining, “No fair! Why does he get to be king? Look at all these long, hard hours you have put into ruling this kingdom. Some little baby should not be able to ruin your life and all of your palace parties. You better get rid of him. So unfair!”

Immediately he begins to plot how he can get rid of Jesus. He tries to rope the wise men into helping him find out where Jesus is. When they won’t, he winds up killing thousands of innocent babies in an attempt to stop Jesus from becoming king. It didn’t matter that Jesus’s kingdom is an entirely different kingdom than Herod is ruling. All he heard was that someone else was going to be king and he went crazy with jealousy. Only a crazy person would kill babies.

But we tired supergirls would never be that crazy, right? We would never kill somebody just because we were jealous. But we let our jealousy kill other things, like friendships and trust. We might sabotage their reputations with our words. We harbor jealousy in our hearts, and it kills grace and gratitude and love and our peace of mind. When we focus on the lives of others, instead of the life that God has given us, we lose perspective. And we lose more than that; we lose the ability to be grateful for all that God has already done in our lives. Unbeknownst to us, there is a secret weapon against the evil foe, Little Miss No Fair. Two little words send her into a downward spiral of doom. Thank you. That’s it. Just thank you.

When we say thank you, we are refocusing on the person to whom we are giving thanks: Jesus. We don’t have time to examine the lives of others, or dream about the greener grass on the other side of the fence, when we are concentrating on Jesus. When we say thank you we are taking stock of what we have already been given, the blessings that have been poured out on us, the lives that we have been blessed with. We are recognizing all that God has done for us already and resting in the fact that he, above all, knows what life is best for us. Thank you for grace. Thank you for forgiveness. Thank you for the ability to breathe. Thank you for hope. Thank you for fuzzy socks and hot chocolate. Thank you for friends. The thank-yous go on and on. And with each thank-you, the “no fairs” seem to get a little quieter. The seven-year-old whiny girl retreats in defeat. The thankful tired supergirl triumphs. Because of Jesus. Funny thing, but that seems to be the way it always works.

9

I JUDGE PEOPLE

I
love grace. I love that Jesus looks beyond my crud and loves me for me. I don’t deserve grace, but I get it anyway. I love that he doesn’t judge me based on my past sins. I love that I get to be free and there is no condemnation in Christ. His grace is fantastic. Amazing grace. I thank God for it. I sing songs about it. I want all the grace God has for me. Pour it on me! Truckloads of it. Right now. Grace is fantastic. But here’s the thing . . . I love it so much that I may not have any left over for you. Sorry.

The funny thing is that even though God poured his grace out on me and doesn’t judge me, somehow it’s hard for me to pass the grace along. I am, in fact, a terrific judger. It’s almost a gifting. Let’s call it an unspiritual gift. I have a lot of unspiritual gifts, but I am particularly spectacular in the judging department. Try me. Just at a glance I can size up a room.

Take the Starbucks I am sitting in. Woman on the left with white blonde hair and tattooed shoulders? Ex-rocker chick, probably divorced, could have a chance as Kid Rock’s new lady. Man on the right with greasy hair and tube socks pulled up to his knees? Newly paroled sex offender—note to self: keep keys at the ready in case I need to stab at his eyes if he accosts me in the parking lot. Teeny bopper barista? Cute girl, maybe smart, why is she not in school? Does her mother know she is working at Starbucks in the middle of the day? Maybe she has half days at school; either way, her mocha is spot on . . . God bless her. Do you see what I mean? It’s a gift. It comes naturally. I don’t even try to judge people. It just flows from me.

And that is just judging by appearances. Don’t even get me started on the people I actually know and interact with. Like my husband. After one of our very rare (weekly) discussions (fights) over how he has hurt me (I never hurt him) and how he needs to change (I am perfect the way I am), he said these words to me: “Susanna, I feel like you just don’t have any grace for me.”