When Comparison Clouds God’s Purpose
Scripture
“I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well.”
— Psalm 139:14 (KJV)
How often through life do we compare ourselves or our lives with others around us? Unfortunately, I have been guilty of this, especially in this winter season of life. I look around at friends my age—many retired from established careers, married for decades, enjoying beautiful homes and financial security in their later years. I had none of those things.
Whispers from childhood—“You’re not good enough. You’re a failure.”—returned, stirring old feelings of inadequacy and discouragement.
Career-wise, I had moved from one job and one field to another. My marriage ended after ten years, and I have remained single for fifty years. I did not own a beautiful home. The comparison was painful.
Over time, however, I came to terms with something I now know to be true: comparing my life to others is a futile exercise that produces nothing but unnecessary insecurity. It does not bring clarity or peace. Instead, it clouds the very thing God has done and continues to do in my life.
Much of this took place during my years as a single mother. I never planned to move from one career or field to another. What may have appeared to others as random wandering was often adaptation and survival. Many of the unexpected losses and closed doors in my life pushed me into unfamiliar directions I would never have chosen for myself. But through those experiences, I slowly developed both faith and resilience.
James tells us to “count it all joy” when we face trials and tribulations, because it is through those very trials that faith and perseverance are built.
Being the sole support for my family created an added determination to continue growing and increasing my value in the workplace. I did not want to simply “get by.” I wanted to build a better life and hopefully model perseverance, faith, and resilience for my children. At the end of the day, I wanted to know they would be proud of their mother.
Finding the courage to move forward—often into the unknown while others appeared to follow far more stable and predictable paths—was both terrifying and strangely exhilarating. Looking back, I can now see how unexpected losses and closed doors became the very things that led me into technology, computer training, returning to college later in life, and eventually teaching as a college adjunct. Those were paths I never could have imagined as a young clerk typist who once doubted her own abilities.
There were times when I worked hard toward something only to have it suddenly taken away. Often, I did not understand why until years later, when I could finally look back and see God’s hand through it all. Some of those transitions were painful, unexpected, or necessary. Yet looking back, I can now see how many of them became stepping stones along the way—evidence that God was ordering my steps all along.
As the scenes of life unfold, the unseen movement of God’s hands slowly becomes visible—like catching sight of a brilliant sunset after miles of dense fog. It is often only in hindsight that I can see that what felt delayed or different was actually part of a life being uniquely shaped with purpose.
For many years, I viewed my singleness through the lens of comparison. I saw what others had built and often wondered why my life had unfolded so differently. Yet looking back now, I can see that many of the qualities God developed in me—strength, perseverance, adaptability, and faith—were born through those very years I once questioned most.
Scripture gives us a beautiful image of this in Isaiah 64:8, where God is described as the potter and we are the clay. A potter does not create identical vessels. Each one is shaped with intention and purpose.
In the same way, God shapes each of our lives uniquely. That realization helped me understand why comparison can be so misleading. God was never writing the same story for me as He was for someone else.
That image instills both dignity and worth. It reminds me that if God knew me before I was in my mother’s womb—knew me as I was being formed—then He also knew the path my life would take.
Jeremiah 1:5 says, “Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee.”
He knew the steps would be different, and He did not simply set a plan in motion and step away. He has been actively working in every detail long before I ever recognized there was a need.
When I reflect on my life, I can see that there have been, at times, two very different Gwinnettas. One who feared she was not good enough and believed she could never do things right, and another who was bold, willing to take risks, and step into the unknown. At times, those two sides seemed to battle each other head-to-head. And often, it was comparison that gave voice to the one who doubted. Yet even in that tension, God was at work, shaping something I could not yet fully see.
God also knew long before I was diagnosed with a genetic eye disease that would eventually leave me legally blind. That part of the journey has not been easy, and there are still moments of frustration. Yet it has also made one thing unmistakably clear to me: my life was never going to look like anyone else’s.
When we compare, we measure only what we can see. We do not see the full design, the full calling, or the quiet shaping God is doing within a life. If God knew my path would include this, then He also knew it would require unique strength—and develop qualities in me that may never have emerged otherwise.
So I hold on to this truth: God knew the plans He had for me long before I understood them myself—plans filled with hope and purpose.
Although my life does not reflect the traditional picture of financial security I once thought it should, God has continued to open remarkable doors for me even in this season of life. In spite of being legally blind, He has given me opportunities to write, publish, teach, and encourage others. Those opportunities were never part of my original plan, yet they became part of His. And through them, I am reminded that purpose does not end simply because life unfolds differently than we expected.
Comparison asks why my life does not look like someone else’s. But what I have come to understand is that God is not writing the same story for all of us. He is writing something uniquely mine.
After all these years, I am finally learning to rest in this truth: God does not make junk.
Closing Blessing
May you find peace in the path God has given you. May you trust the shaping of His hands, even when it comes with pressure, and may you rest in the truth that your life is being uniquely and purposefully formed.
Gentle Invitation
If this reflection speaks to you, take a moment to consider where comparison may be stealing your peace, and ask God to help you see your journey through His eyes.
A Note from My Journey
This reflection grows out of the story God has been writing in my life—one I share more fully in my memoir, He Ordered My Steps: From Shattered Dreams to Something Beautiful.
Link: heorderedmysteps.com