Let everyone be sure to do his very best, for then he will have the personal satisfaction of work done well and won’t need to compare himself with someone else.—Galatians 6:4
Okay, I admit it. That bugs me. There, I’ve said it. What I’m talking about are those random spires of sorghum that rise far above the rest of the field. I can’t help but notice them as I drive past—a peculiar sight that sticks out like a sore thumb. I imagine myself furiously slicing the stalks to line up with their neighbors. But why? Why do the overachieving shoots of grain bother me so much? Is it because I prefer tidiness and clean lines—even, straight lines? It’s true that a well-groomed lawn without a blade out of place is like a breath of fresh air to me. And evenly aligned desks in my classroom make my heart sing. But could my annoyance over the perceived anomaly in the sorghum field stem from something much deeper?
Lately I’ve been feeling like I’m behind the curve at work. A few of my colleagues are flaunting cool technology in their classrooms, while I’m still trying to install the software—let alone use it. They’re head and shoulders above the rest of us. That bugs me. But why? Can I not celebrate their success without getting my nose out of joint? Do I have to keep up with the Joneses? Why do I want to be like them? Is it fear that they will get noticed by the principal and I will not? “For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man?”—Galatians 1:10