Notes of Faith September 30, 2022
Who Do You Say I Am?
My first selfie post was an image of me sitting in my office. I had been working on a report that was draining my intellectual reserves, so I pulled out my phone and typed a status update that said, “Brain on E,” E for exhaustion. Then I had the idea to include a photo of myself to illustrate my sentiment. I held up my phone, switched the camera to face front, sighed deeply, and snapped the picture. I didn’t take multiple pictures. I didn’t even think to take multiple pictures. I took just one picture and added it to my post. The next day, I went to Facebook to post about my lunch when I noticed a dozen people had liked my selfie post and had commented, “So beautiful,” “You look so good in that color,” “Love your hair,” and more.
I was shocked. It never occurred to me that people would comment on my appearance based on a post about my intellectual exhaustion. In fact, it never occurred to me that people would comment at all. But something stirred in me when I read those comments. Each compliment felt like a warm, cuddly blanket. I read and reread those comments because they felt good. And after every reading, I felt an invisible thread pulling my attention back to that post to see if there were more comments and likes. I was pleasantly surprised to find that there usually were.
As I climbed into bed that night and rested my head on the pillow, I had a smile on my face. I also had a thought in my heart as I closed my eyes: “What should I post tomorrow to get more likes?” But deep down, the real question rolling around in my soul was slightly different: “What should I post tomorrow to get people to like me?”
Insecurity leads us to equate attention with worth.
In a fascinating recent study of “selfitis” (the clinical term for an addiction to selfies), researchers interviewed a group of four hundred students and learned that more than half (223 respondents) reported taking between one and four selfies a day, with more than a quarter (141) taking between five and eight selfies per day. When asked why, students said things like, “I gain enormous attention by sharing my selfies on social media,” and, “Taking different selfie poses helps increase my social status.”1
Insecurity causes our hearts to tally the number of likes on our social media posts as a representation of our worth.'
The first time people responded positively to my appearance on social media, it was a pleasant surprise that left me feeling a bit better about myself. Reading those comments changed the way I saw myself that day. And therein lies the insidious power of comparison. Comparison changes the way you see yourself because it can cause you to see yourself through the eyes of others. Their view eclipses what you see with your own eyes. For example, while I saw myself as exhausted, others saw me as beautiful. However, when others disapprove of what they see, those negative views can also eclipse what you see. While you might see a woman aging gracefully or a college student learning from mistakes or a mother doing her best or a guy putting forth the effort to find a job after getting fired, others might see wrinkles, failure, disappointment, and broken promises.
When we see ourselves through the eyes of others, we make others the source of our worthiness.
To illustrate this point, I want to explore a Bible story that may be familiar to you. It’s the story of Israel’s first two kings, Saul and David.
Your identity is secure
Saul was the son of a man named Kish. Various Bible translations describe Saul’s dad as a man of “standing,” “power,” “stalwart character,” and “influence and wealth” (1 Samuel 9:1). One day Kish’s donkeys wandered off, so he tasked Saul with going to look for them: “Take one of the servants with you and go and look for the donkeys” (1 Samuel 9:3). Now, the fact that his dad said to take one of the servants meant there were many servants, and having donkeys (plural) indicates that Kish was a wealthy man. Therefore, so was Saul.
Saul set out with one of the servants to search for the missing donkeys. Unbeknownst to him, God had told a prophet named Samuel that Saul was coming to see him and that Saul was to be anointed king of Israel. When Saul showed up, Samuel invited him to stay and eat with him and then added, “As for the donkeys you lost three days ago, do not worry about them; they have been found. And to whom is all the desire of Israel turned, if not to you and your whole family line?” (1 Samuel 9:20).
Saul was flabbergasted. Stunned. I can imagine him thinking, “Huh? I just came here looking for our donkeys. Why would a prophet ask me to stay for a couple of days if the donkeys have been found? Wait a minute. What did he say about my family? That all the desire of Israel has turned toward us? What? What is he saying?” After gathering his thoughts, Saul said,
But am I not a Benjamite, from the smallest tribe of Israel, and is not my clan the least of all the clans of the tribe of Benjamin? Why do you say such a thing to me? — 1 Samuel 9:21
There were twelve tribes of Israel, and each tribe was named for one of the sons of a patriarch named Jacob, whose name was later changed to Israel. Before his death, Israel (Jacob) had blessed each of his twelve sons. Since Benjamin was the youngest son, he was blessed last. Although his tribe ended up being the smallest, the Benjamites were mighty and well resourced. Unfortunately, despite the resources Saul’s tribe had, comparing himself to the other tribes caused him to see himself as lacking.
Sometimes toxic comparison diminishes us by making us small in our own eyes.
I have read Saul’s response to Samuel countless times. It is this very response that inspired me to write this book because it puzzled me. Consider these facts from Saul’s story:
Saul told Samuel he didn’t understand why all of Israel’s desire was turned toward him and his family.
Saul believed his family occupied an insignificant position among the tribes of the nation of Israel.
Saul’s story begins by stating that Saul’s family was one of “standing,” “power,” “stalwart character,” and “influence and wealth.”
This begs the question of where Saul got the idea that he came from an inconsequential and unimportant family. Why did he think he was less-than, not good enough, and didn’t measure up? Wherever the idea came from, his unwillingness to let go of it would cost him the kingdom just a few decades later.
Saul’s eventual downfall as king was rooted in insecurity-fueled disobedience.
God had instructed Saul to obliterate a population of people known as the Amalekites (1 Samuel 15). Many generations earlier, the Amalekites had attacked Israel when they were tired, weak, and vulnerable during their wilderness journey out of Egypt (Exodus 17:8–16). Saul was not only to kill the Amalekites but also to destroy everything they owned. But instead of obeying God, Saul caved when his soldiers pressured him to keep rather than destroy the good stuff — the best cattle, the best sheep, and more.
Big mistake.
The Lord sent the prophet Samuel to pronounce judgment:
Because you have rejected the word of the Lord, He has rejected you as king.
— 1 Samuel 15:23
Saul’s heart dropped, and he tried to rationalize his decision: “I was afraid of the men and so I gave in to them” (1 Samuel 15:24). After decades of occupying the role and identity of king of Israel, Saul still saw himself as the kid who came from the most insignificant clan in the smallest tribe of Israel. He had more money, power, influence, and standing than anyone else in Israel, but it wasn’t enough. He couldn’t see past who he had been despite who he had become.
Toxic comparison filters our present identity through our past deficiencies.
“Although you were once small in your own eyes,” Samuel responded, “did you not become the head of the tribes of Israel? The Lord anointed you king over Israel” (1 Samuel 15:17). The kingdom was ultimately taken from Saul because, even after all God had done to change Saul’s identity, he had secured his identity to the fickle affirmation of other human beings. He wanted their applause more than he wanted God’s approval. And because of this, God told Samuel it was time to anoint a new king.
The story goes on to introduce a new family, the family of Jesse of Bethlehem. In contrast to the way Kish, Saul’s father, was introduced, the text uses no flowery words to describe Jesse. He is simply introduced as “Jesse of Bethlehem”
(1 Samuel 16:1).
At God’s command, Samuel traveled to Bethlehem and asked to meet Jesse’s sons. Samuel knew God had chosen one of Jesse’s sons to be king, but he didn’t know which one. After Jesse introduced seven of his sons, God told Samuel that none of them were to be anointed king. So Samuel asked Jesse if there were any additional sons. “Yeah, the youngest is out there tending sheep,” Jesse responded. Jesse sent for him, and when young David stood before Samuel, God affirmed, “This is the one” (1 Samuel 16:12).
Although we might expect David to be perplexed and have questions, Scripture records no response from him to these surprising events. Under the same circumstances that led Saul to question his worthiness, David appears to suffer no self-doubt. Just as every word of Scripture is intentional, I also believe every missing word is intentional. I will not add to what is missing, but I invite you to take an imaginary journey with me for a moment.
Imagine your teenage self, minding your business and mowing your parents’ grass when one of your siblings comes outside and says, “Hey, Dad wants you.” You stop, turn off the lawn mower, and make your way inside the house. Standing there are your seven siblings and your father. All eyes are on you when an unknown, gray-haired man walks toward you. When he reaches you, he says nothing, pulls out a bottle of olive oil, and pours it over your head. When the last drop slides down your forehead, he turns to the group and pronounces, “Introducing the new king of Israel.”
What might you think? Perhaps something like, “Huh?” Or, “Why me?” Or maybe, “This is interesting.”
What’s significant is how David’s thinking differs from Saul’s thinking. Specifically, how David doesn’t ask Samuel the question Saul had asked, which was a question rooted in the opinion of others. A question rooted in the valuation of others. A question rooted in comparison to others. In contrast to Saul, David does not ask, “Why would you anoint me king?” Instead, the Bible simply says,
From that day on the Spirit of the Lord came powerfully upon David.
— 1 Samuel 16:13–14
Meanwhile, the Spirit had departed from Saul.
God had chosen both men to be king, but while Saul secured his identity to who others said he was, David secured his identity to who God said he was.
Your identity is secure when you believe that what God says about you is true.
Australian Institute of Professional Counselors, “The Rise and Rise of the Selfie,” Counselling Connection, September 17, 2019, https://www.counsellingconnection.com/index.php/2019/09/17/the -rise-and-rise-of-the-selfie/.
Excerpted from Killing Comparison by Nona Jones, copyright Nona Jones.
Do not compare yourself to others or your mind will lead you to despair or perhaps filled with pride…either way the comparison will lead you to believing something different about yourself than who you really are. You belong to God! You have your identity in Him as His child. There is nothing better than that truth of who you are and to whom you belong!
Pastor Dale