Comparison Is Wrecking Our Souls

We’ve been taught since childhood to avoid envy. “Count your blessings,” they said. “Don’t covet your neighbor’s house, spouse, or new bike.” So we tucked those feelings deep down, convinced that silence would sanctify them. But pretending jealousy doesn’t exist only gives it more space to grow in the dark. Because comparison isn’t just a harmless side effect of life it’s a slow-working spiritual toxin.

I learned this the hard way.

In college, I watched my friends land internships at prestigious firms, celebrate graduate school acceptances, and walk confidently into their futures. Meanwhile, I sat alone in my dorm, swallowed up by confusion and self-doubt. Why did their paths feel so clear while mine seemed shrouded in fog? That moment was my first real introduction to the internal spiral of comparison. And while it felt deeply personal, I now know it’s nearly universal.

Maybe you’ve felt it too. Maybe you’re the last single person in your friend group. Maybe you’ve spent years working a job that drains you while others seem to effortlessly step into careers they love. Maybe you’ve scrolled through photos of someone’s wedding, vacation, or promotion and felt the sting of lack pierce your soul.

And then, of course, came social media the great accelerator of dissatisfaction. Suddenly, we weren’t just comparing ourselves to our immediate circle, but to thousands of strangers posting filtered highlight reels. What used to be the occasional twinge of jealousy became a constant hum of not-enoughness. We didn’t just feel behind; we lived like it.

Research backs this up. A study from the University of Copenhagen found that people who took a break from Facebook for just one week reported significantly higher life satisfaction and better emotional health. Another study published in the Journal of Social and Clinical Psychology found a direct link between time spent on Instagram and increased symptoms of depression, anxiety, and poor self-esteem all rooted in constant comparison.

My first instinct was to control the narrative. I avoided certain conversations. Skipped the engagement announcements. Deactivated Facebook. Blocked accounts that triggered envy. But none of it touched the root. These were superficial fixes for a much deeper spiritual problem.

It wasn’t until my mid-twenties that I finally saw the truth: jealousy, at its core, is fear. Fear that we’re not good enough. Fear that we’re being left behind. Fear that someone else’s success proves our failure. And fear, as Scripture reminds us, has no place in love.

Dr. Caroline Leaf, a neuroscientist and author, writes that all emotions grow from either love or fear. Love leads to peace, patience, and joy. Fear leads to anxiety, shame, and bitterness. The two cannot coexist. One always pushes out the other.

And that realization changed everything for me.

Instead of chastising myself for feeling jealous, I began asking better questions. What fear is hiding underneath this comparison? What am I afraid of losing? What do I actually desire that I’m not giving myself permission to want? The more I named those fears, the more they lost their power.

A few months ago, I found myself in one of those moments again someone was being praised in a group I was part of. And like clockwork, that familiar twinge returned. But instead of retreating into my own insecurity, I paused. I asked the fear what it wanted. And then I spoke up with sincerity: “She’s right you did a beautiful job.”

And I meant it.

That’s what love does. Not the soft, sentimental version we often associate with greeting cards, but the fierce, holy force that casts out fear. Love transforms someone else’s success from a threat into a celebration. Love says, “Their win doesn’t steal your worth.” Love says, “You are already enough.”

In 1 John 4:18, we’re reminded that “Perfect love drives out fear.” When love enters, comparison loses its grip. And that’s where healing begins.

It’s no secret that we’re living in a culture engineered to provoke comparison. Algorithms reward envy. Platforms thrive on performance. The world urges us to present a polished version of our lives while consuming the polished versions of others. But this spiritual disease can’t be healed with more striving. It can’t be soothed by scrolling or silenced by self-criticism.

It can only be cured by love.

Love that redefines our sense of value. Love that lets us celebrate others freely. Love that sees the whole picture of our own lives the messy and the mundane and calls it worthy.

A 2022 survey by Lifeway Research revealed that 61% of Christians said they regularly struggle with feelings of inadequacy. Yet only 28% say they openly discuss those struggles in their faith communities. That silence breeds isolation. But when love speaks, it invites honesty. It builds bridges. It transforms jealousy into empathy and fear into connection.

So next time comparison rears its head, try this: instead of silencing it or numbing it, get curious. Ask it what it's afraid of. And then remind it what love says about you, about others, about the God who created us not for competition, but for community.

Because when love grows, fear shrinks. And when fear shrinks, jealousy no longer has a place to hide.

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