Icried often as a kid. The day my younger brother truthfully told me I was no good at piano, when I realized I would never skate, sing or write well enough to be 'the best' or even to consider myself sufficiently skilled, I sobbed frustrations into my pillow. Now you're probably already rationalizing my troubles, saying “She can't be too bad and a little bit of practice would bring her the success she’s looking for”. Maybe your disagreement lies in the definition of the word ‘success’. By this I mean that I was seeking recognition as an expert in some field, and comparing myself only to those who were already good at what I was learning to do. All those activities, with their techniques and time-consuming lessons, took more time and effort than I was willing to put forth for the meagre results I was getting. Well-meaning friends inspired me to try my hand at everything in case that thing would become my THING (if you know what I mean). These friends were probably only demonstrating their dedication and love for their areas of expertise, but I heard their encouragements as displays of pride and satisfaction at being better than me. I wanted so badly to prove my worth to them, even if I that meant developping a talent for throwing grapes in the air and catching them in my mouth (unfortunately the floors were left noticeably stickier the day I tried to learn this trick).A lot of time went into improving my abilities; my self-worth began to depend on the ratio of my personal growth to that of my friends. This had two effects on how I handled judgements from others: praise would receive an unconvinced shrug and criticism an argument. No matter whether evidence showed I was progressing toward some future finish line, I was disheartened as ever.
I... me. You can get a good idea what my problem was by counting all the first-person references in this story. Eventually I recognized how self-centered my thoughts sounded, and the scope of the damage these competitive thoughts had caused in my relationships. Learning that a change was needed the hard way was no fun. Many unfortunate blows to my pride were to come in the wake of that realization before I would be sent questing for an alternative to my inadequacies.
This I found, with surprisingly little difficulty, in one of the dusty books on my shelf. The Bible presented a familiar picture of my own life with all its questionings, imperfect people trying to do the best they could to fulfill their needs and crying out to God when they realized they could not succeed alone. And the thing is He answered them. He humbled himself and came down to live and die as a man, promising them (and me!) eternal rest in his perfection and unconditional love. There was my finish line. I am still running, getting lost often along the way, to the end of the road where I can claim the recognition I was looking for all those years. Relief from pressure to be the best has at last begun to set in. I don’t have to worry about being great if God does great things for me.
~ RS, Calgary AB
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