The Green-Eyed Monster: A Confession

I did something I should not have done this evening.  I checked out the website of a church that is by all accounts wildly successful.  This wouldn't normally be so bad, but it happens to be a church only four years old that was founded by one of my fellow students as Asbury.  We graduated together.  As a result, I cannot help but begin to compare myself to him.  Comparison always destroys.

My classmate’s church is totally, completely, and entirely cool.  Graphic designers create images in perfect minimalist style tailor-fitted to suit the tastes of people my own age.  He preaches in a t-church and blue jeans while sipping coffee from (where else?) Starbucks.  They meet in a warehouse featuring just the perfect dose of postmodern unfinished decor.  They boast a staff of a dozen or so and regularly host nationally known guest speakers and musicians.  You get the picture.  In short, that church is everything mine is not.  And that pastor is everything I am not.

And the green-eyed monster rears his ugly head once again in my heart.

I just returned from leading yet another administration meeting in which we discussed our very urgent need for $5000 to purchase a new AC unit for our century-old sanctuary.  No idea where that money's gonna come from.  We dealt with issues like how messy the steward's closet is and who's going to clean it up, how we're falling behind each week in our budget, how the student we've invested in down at Oakdale is on the verge of being expelled for good.

Sometimes I want the spotlights, the sexy intro videos, the hip Rob Bell-style glasses, and the vodcasts.  I want people to pay their tithe via PayPal on our sleek website.  But instead I'm frantically trying to find toilet paper for the women's restroom before I can start teaching bible study on Wednesday night. 

I want to do something spectacular, but instead I'm biting my tongue while I listen to yet one more jumbled, rambling, self-centred rant during what is supposed to be prayer request time.

Why can't my world be clean and sexy and cool and relevant?  Why can't my church have a logo that puts us on the same plain as Apple? 

(... hold on a sec... the copy machine just jammed again.  Time for me to fix it with some of my scotch tape magic.)

There now.  Deep down inside I know that all of those questions are rooted in sin, envy, anger, and pride.  I know those are questions I must reject.  The much tougher question -- the one that really keeps me up at night -- is this:  Why is my friend so successful and I'm so terribly unsuccessful?  How has he made an empire for himself in the same time that I've managed to tick off a few old ladies and grow a church from 60 to 70?  Why does God seem to smile on him and enjoy watching me nearly drown day after day?  Is it some sort of divine punishment for my sins? 

I realize even while I write this that what I'm saying isn't very rational.  But it is how I feel.  I feel like an old shoe that's been tossed in the back of the closet.  I'm a cheap, thrift store suit coming apart at the seams hanging next to a brand new Versace. 

I guess it's a good thing Jesus is for losers.