The Greatest Darkness

Overcoming the most shameful of jealousies

“Jonah had gone out and sat down at a place east of the city. There he made himself a shelter, sat in its shade and waited to see what would happen to the city.”^[1]

Over the past year, I’ve begun to recognize a change in my outlook on life.

That’s a dramatic opening statement, and perhaps a little too much so. This is not an existential issue, or some kind of crisis of faith, rather it’s a particular response on my behalf toward those around me. To put it bluntly, I’ve become jealous of them.

But this jealousy is not the kind that most would suspect. My covetousness has nothing to do with money or possessions or attractiveness or status. Rather, it’s focused on success. Not material success, but success of good health.

Let me explain.

Every few weeks or so, I receive a prayer request from a friend, acquaintance, or family member about a health concern. Usually this encompasses a particular medical test or procedure the individual in question is undergoing. Their request is for prayers of healing, or, more commonly, favorable results that indicate no presence of disease.

I always take these requests to heart, praying diligently for the desired outcome. Like the individual making the request, I want everything to turn out okay.

But upon learning that the prayers were answered favorably — and in most cases, they are — I experience the strangest letdown, almost like a feeling of disappointment. A part of me, buried deep within my subconsciousness, appears to be displeased that everything turned out fine.

It’s a bizarre response, one that sickens me to the core. While I’m fairly certain that I don’t really want this person to be sick or in danger of losing their life, at the same time I can’t deny a feeling of resentment for their clean bill of health.

Why in the world would I feel this way?

I think the most obvious culprit is my mom. Or, more specifically, her death. As regular readers of The Silent Planet are well aware, she passed away nearly 14 years ago from breast cancer. At the time, I lived down the street and had a front-row seat to her battle, watching in horror as the disease slowly and deliberately destroyed her from the inside out.

It took almost two years for it to kill her. Along the way, there was a legion of medical tests, surgeries, and treatments. Brief success was experienced, but for the most part, all procedures came back with unfavorable results. Things got worse, much worse, and never better. Persistent prayers for healing were denied.

My mom was a fighter, through and through, and, to the end, we all believed the illness would be overcome. That things didn’t turn out that way took an incredible toll on each of us, though in different ways. For me personally, it took years — and regular doses of medication — to fade the memories of her last days and bring me to a place where I could at least partially cope.

Most recently, it seemed to me that I had finally reached a place of closure.

But it’s clear from my current attitude toward those receiving the success of health that I still have some healing left to do. That I could actually experience jealousy towards family and friends over the fact that they will outlive my mom is absolutely shocking. Up until now, I have refused to admit it — both to myself and publicly.

Feeling like I do and yet holding claim to the title of Christian is nothing short of hypocritical. Jesus himself warned of the consequences of resentment and lack of graciousness when He stated that a person’s eyes are the “lamp of the body.”

“If your eyes are healthy, your whole body will be full of light. But if your eyes are unhealthy, your whole body will be full of darkness. If then the light within you is darkness, how great is that darkness!”^[2]

To get at the intended meaning, we must go back to the original language. The Greek word translated “healthy” actually implies generosity. And the Greek word for “unhealthy” refers to the act of being stingy. In this context, Jesus is more precisely saying that those who look on others in a stingy, unhelpful, jealous manner will have their vision clouded in such a way that their entire outlook may become dark and twisted.

Paul picks up on this when writing to Titus, stating that “to the pure, all things are pure, but to those who are corrupted and do not believe, nothing is pure.”^[3]

If I cannot look beyond my own personal grief and confusion about my mom’s death and desire the best for those around me, then I am failing to see others as Christ sees me. How can I claim to be a child of God and feel resentment toward the way He blesses those He has created? Such feelings are not the sort of fruit expected from someone grafted onto the Vine.

Ultimately, none of us has control over our lives or health. Those who live “right” and pursue healthy living or keep up with medical checkups don’t always live longer than those who do not. My mom taught me that. She taught me also that each and every aspect of our existence remains in our Creator’s hands, and it is up to Him to decide when and where our lives will end, and what sort of lives we will experience until that final moment.

To resent someone else’s timeline is to resent God Himself. And to resent God means that we think He has made a mistake in His divine providence and that we could do better. It is hubris of the highest — and most despicable — sort.

May God grant me forgiveness for such arrogance. And may He provide me with a more generous spirit to recognize His good intentions for us all — and to rejoice.

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^[1] Jonah 4:5.

^[2] Matthew 6:22-23.

^[3] Titus 1:15.

Photo by National Cancer Institute on Unsplash