How Envy Steals Your Joy

Let me tell you something.

A few months ago, I was scrolling on Instagram and saw a post that made my chest tighten. I saw a Pastor I know celebrating their new building space. It was bigger, better and beautiful. And rather than celebrate with them, I found myself clutching my chest and asking God why.

What I really meant to ask God was why not me?

Hold your horses, don’t judge yet. You need to understand what was happening. Our church had just lost our own space. After spending over seven years in more than ten temporary venues, we had finally raised enough money to rent our own space for worship. We called it The Garden Studio. Finally, we were going to have our very own space for worship, a space for kids, and, finally, I’d have my own office. We were excited. But this excitement was short-lived: four months later, it was gone. Unknown to us, our former landlord was caught up in legal drama surrounding the property that we knew nothing about when we signed. So we were thrown out.

So there I was, still grieving our building, staring at photos of his.

The thing is, I had been fine thirty seconds earlier. I prayed that morning. I had spent the day doing work I love. Then one Instagram post, and the world felt smaller, my life felt smaller. Interestingly, nothing had been taken away from me, yet I felt like I lost something.

If you’ve felt this before you’ll understand what I’m talking about. That feeling is called envy. For many of us it’s a familiar visitor. It sneaks into your life usually when success shows up in someone else’s.

When their success feels like your failure

This is what God has shown me about the envy in my own heart. I was surprised by the results. It goes deeper than just wanting what someone else has. You might admire what they have, but envy makes you see their blessings as proof that you’re missing out. By the way, be careful what you pray for when you ask God to examine your heart. He may just answer your prayer.

Their progress feels like proof that I’m falling behind. Their open doors remind me of every door that stayed closed for me. Their answered prayers make me wonder why God seems silent about mine.

I’ve smiled at people while a quiet voice inside me asked, Why them? When will it be my turn? Did God forget me? When I saw that Instagram post, another feeling rose up in me that surprised me. I found myself getting angry at myself for feeling this way, envious. I condemned myself for feeling envy because I thought it was a sin I’d dealt with. So not only was I dealing with envy but condemnation. A trapdoor I don’t wish anyone to fall into. It’s a never-ending spiral. Who will save me from this body of death?

In Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis wrote that pride takes “no pleasure out of having something, only out of having more of it than the next man.” Envy is similar, but it works in reverse. We start to believe, “I cannot enjoy what I have because someone else has more.” The trouble is, there will always be someone with more. Envy is a race with no finish line because the standard keeps changing.

Stop looking sideways.

Walk with me.

The first murder in the Bible happened because of envy. Two brothers, Cain and Abel, offered sacrifices to God. Abel’s was accepted; Cain’s was rejected. This made Cain burn with anger. Burn with envy.

Then God asked Cain a surgical question: “Why are you angry? Why is your face downcast?” (Genesis 4:6).

Did you notice that God had not abandoned Cain? Exactly, God was speaking to him, right there, warning him, offering him a way forward. But Cain could not see what God was offering because he was consumed by what Abel had received. His brother had become his competition.

Envy still does this to us.

Your coworker becomes a threat. Your friend’s testimony becomes irritating. Their marriage seems happier. Their business is moving. Their children are thriving. They bought the house, announced the engagement, published the book, received the promotion, travelled to the place you have been praying to visit. Their ministry is growing. Another church’s growth makes me defensive.

Underneath this is the belief in the lie of scarcity. You fear that there will not be enough for us. Our envy makes us assume God is working with a limited supply, so his generosity to someone else must mean less left for me. We see God’s goodness in someone else’s life and wonder if we have been overlooked. But someone else’s blessing does not empty heaven. His kindness towards them is not his rejection of you. Their answered prayer does not mean God has stopped listening to yours.

John Piper famously says that “God is most glorified in us when we are most satisfied in him.” Envy says the opposite. It says I cannot be satisfied until I have what they have.

Envy makes you suspicious of God

We must be careful here, because this is what happens when we let envy have its way. It distorts our view of God. How we see God changes. How, you may ask? Because envy stops being a problem you have against someone else and becomes a problem you have with God. Our resentment at someone else getting blessed is an accusation against God. You’re saying, “You gave them what I wanted. You opened their door and left mine closed.”

In Psalm 73, one of my favourite Psalms, and perhaps one of the rawest in honesty about this kind of pain. The Psalmist saw the arrogant man prosper while his faithfulness seemed to cost him, and he admitted, “my feet had almost slipped... for I envied the arrogant” (Psalm 73:2–3). He nearly lost his footing because he kept looking at other people’s lives.

His salvation came in the presence of God. Funny enough, he never got an explanation for his lament. But he definitely got something better. He got God. He saw God again: “Whom have I in heaven but you? And earth has nothing I desire besides you” (Psalm 73:25). Maybe we need to see God again?

Worship your way out of envy. Because in worship we (re)discover that even before anything changes, I still have God.

“What about him?”

Our Father taught me this again last year.

While reading John’s Gospel, near the end, Jesus tells Peter that following him will involve suffering. Peter turns, sees John, and asks one of the most human questions in Scripture: “Lord, what about him?” (John 21:21).

Jesus responds in the next verse, “If I want him to remain alive until I return, what is that to you? You must follow me”.

I read this sometime last year and, to be candid, I found those words both sharp and freeing. Jesus refuses to explain John’s path to Peter. And many times it may be the same for us. God may never answer the questions we have about people’s lives. Why they got the opportunity you both applied for. Why their family had more money, and yours did not. Why their journey seemed quicker. Why their prayers were answered, and yours were not.

What is that to you?
You must follow me.

Their story is in his hands. But so is yours.

You do not need to understand everybody else’s path in order to be faithful on yours.

Grace closes the courtroom

Envy will thrive wherever identity has to be earned. When my worth depends on achievement, your achievement will threaten me. Tim Keller brilliantly diagnosed this when he described the human ego as always “drawing attention to itself” because it is empty and desperate to be filled. If your heart is still trying to prove itself, you will always experience someone else’s win as your own loss.

The gospel destroys this old way of being. “God saved you by his grace when you believed. And you can’t take credit for this; it is a gift from God” (Ephesians 2:8–9, NLT). If my standing before God is a gift, then nobody’s success can diminish it, and nobody’s applause can add to it. Finish!

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That night, I stopped scrolling and, like the prodigal son, “came to myself”, returning to something people have done for centuries: an ancient rhythm of worship, one of the oldest practices of the soul. I thanked God, out loud, for my life, for my wife, my daughters. And for our church, even without a building to call ours own. Yet. I thanked Him for this season. This pace of growth. The tightness I felt in my chest earlier eased, and something…something I can only describe as joy came back.

My friend, you cannot enjoy a life you are always resisting. Receive yours. It comes from our Father whose goodness can never run dry.

Don’t be envious; enjoy God!

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In Him, for Him, by Him,

Jesse