On the night of the harvest thanksgiving, Ebiere’s elder sister was the guest minister. The church had printed her face on the banner outside the gate. She had two albums, a large following online and a voice that could make a hall of eight hundred people go completely still. When she sang the last song of the evening, the aunties in the front rows stood with their hands raised and tears on their faces.
Ebiere was at the back of the hall with a clipboard and a phone in each hand.
She had been there since six that morning. She had found the generator technician when the diesel ran low at four o’clock. She had noticed that the ramp for wheelchair users was blocked by the bandstand and arranged for it to be moved. She had rearranged the children’s tables so that nobody would be close to the cooking pots. She had caught the error in the order of service that would have had the offering taken twice. When the auctioneer’s microphone failed halfway through the bidding, she had a spare in his hand within forty seconds. Almost nobody in the hall knew that anything had gone wrong.
After the service, as the crowd spilled out into the car park, a woman from her mother’s village took Ebiere’s hand. “Your sister is so anointed,” she said warmly. “What about you, my dear? What do you do?” Ebiere smiled and said, “Oh, I just run around.” The woman patted her hand. “Never mind. God gives to each one differently.”
She meant it kindly. But Ebiere drove home that night with the words circling in her head. She had tried the choir for three years as a teenager, until the choirmaster gently suggested that she might serve the Lord in another department. She had taught Sunday school once and found it exhausting. She had grown up being introduced at family events as “the sister of the singer.” Somewhere along the way, she had concluded that she was one of those believers God had passed over when He was handing out gifts.
She was thirty-four. She had been running the logistics for every major church event for six years. And she did not think it counted.
How comparison shrinks a gift
Comparison rarely announces itself as a sin. It sounds like realism. She can sing. I cannot. He preaches. I only arrange chairs. It seems humble. It may even sound spiritual. But it does quiet damage, because it measures every ability against the most visible gift in the room, and almost everything looks small beside that.
When we compare, we tend to make one of two mistakes. Either we look at someone who seems more gifted and conclude that what we have is not worth developing, or we look at someone who seems less gifted and conclude that we are rather important. Both are mistakes about measurement. Paul names the problem precisely when he writes about certain teachers in Corinth who were promoting themselves:
For we dare not make ourselves of the number, or compare ourselves with some that commend themselves: but they measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise.
“They measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise.” Comparison uses the wrong ruler. It measures one person by another person, as though the purpose of a gift were to rank its owner. God does not measure that way. He measures a gift by its faithful use, and by the good it does for the people it was given to serve.
The harm of comparison is not only emotional. It is practical. A believer who thinks her ability is unworthy will not take the trouble to develop it. She will not take a course, ask for feedback, read a book or learn from someone more experienced, because she does not believe the thing is worth the effort. The gift is not buried in rebellion. It is simply left out in the rain, because nobody, including its owner, thought it mattered.
The foot and the hand
Paul’s longest teaching on gifts comes in 1 Corinthians 12, written to a church that had made spiritual gifts into a status competition. Some gifts were treated as signs of a superior spirituality, and some members felt they did not belong at all. Paul answers with the picture of a body:
For the body is not one member, but many. If the foot shall say, Because I am not the hand, I am not of the body; is it therefore not of the body? And if the ear shall say, Because I am not the eye, I am not of the body; is it therefore not of the body? If the whole body were an eye, where were the hearing? If the whole were hearing, where were the smelling? But now hath God set the members every one of them in the body, as it hath pleased him. And if they were all one member, where were the body? But now are they many members, yet but one body.
Listen to the voice of the foot. “Because I am not the hand, I am not of the body.” That is comparison speaking. The foot looks at the hand, with all its skill and visibility, and decides that it must not really count. The ear looks at the eye and says the same thing.
Paul’s reply is almost humorous. “If the whole body were an eye, where were the hearing?” Picture a body made entirely of eyes. It would see wonderfully and do nothing else. It could not hear, walk, eat or hold anything. A church in which every member had the most celebrated gift would be equally helpless. A congregation of eight hundred singers, with nobody to fix the generator, would have a short harvest thanksgiving.
Then comes the decisive sentence: “But now hath God set the members every one of them in the body, as it hath pleased him.” Your place in the body was not assigned by the choirmaster, the congregation or your own self-assessment. God set you there, and He did so because it pleased Him. The foot’s feelings of inadequacy do not change the fact that the foot is part of the body. They only make the foot less useful.
Notice that Paul speaks of members “every one of them.” There is no believer without a place. Earlier in the chapter he says, “the manifestation of the Spirit is given to every man to profit withal” (1 Corinthians 12:7). Every believer has received something, and it has been given for the profit of others.
The parts that seem less honourable
Paul goes further, and the next verses speak directly to the gifts that receive little attention: “Nay, much more those members of the body, which seem to be more feeble, are necessary” (1 Corinthians 12:22). And then: “those members of the body, which we think to be less honourable, upon these we bestow more abundant honour” (1 Corinthians 12:23).
Notice the words seem and think. Some gifts seem feeble. Some parts we think less honourable. Paul is describing human perception, and he is telling us that our perception is unreliable. The parts of the body that seem least impressive are often the ones we could least do without. Nobody admires their own kidneys. Everybody needs them.
Then Paul gives God’s reason for arranging the body this way: “That there should be no schism in the body; but that the members should have the same care one for another” (1 Corinthians 12:25). Comparison divides. It creates a church of performers and spectators. God’s arrangement creates a community in which every member cares for every other, and in which “whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it; or one member be honoured, all the members rejoice with it” (1 Corinthians 12:26).
A few verses later, Paul lists some of the gifts God has placed in the church. Alongside apostles, prophets, teachers, miracles and healings, he includes two words that are easy to read past: “helps, governments” (1 Corinthians 12:28). Helps refers to the ability to come alongside and assist. Governments translates a Greek word, kybernēsis, related to the word for the helmsman who steers a ship through difficult waters. Paul places administration and practical assistance in the same list as miracles. The Spirit who heals the sick also gives the ability to organise a harvest thanksgiving so that a man in a wheelchair can come in through the front door.
Paul’s lists include what many of us would call supernatural manifestations and what we might call practical abilities. Believers hold different convictions about how the more dramatic gifts operate today, and I have written elsewhere about my own conviction that the Spirit still gives them freely. But on this point the whole church can agree. Paul does not divide gifts into spiritual and unspiritual. All are given by “the same Spirit” (1 Corinthians 12:4).
Think soberly about what grace has given
Paul makes the same argument in Romans 12, and he adds an instruction about how we should assess ourselves. He writes that no believer should think of himself “more highly than he ought to think; but to think soberly, according as God hath dealt to every man the measure of faith” (Romans 12:3).
To think soberly is to think clearly, without the intoxication of pride or the distortion of self-contempt. A sober estimate of your gifts is an accurate one. It does not exaggerate and it does not deny. And notice the basis for it: “according as God hath dealt.” The measure was dealt by God. You assess your gift by asking what He has given, not by asking how it compares with what He gave your sister.
Then Paul says, “Having then gifts differing according to the grace that is given to us” (Romans 12:6), and he lists some of them: prophecy, ministry, teaching, exhortation, giving, ruling, showing mercy. Two things stand out. First, the gifts differ, and Paul expects them to. Difference is God’s design. Second, he follows each gift with an instruction to use it well. “He that giveth, let him do it with simplicity; he that ruleth, with diligence; he that sheweth mercy, with cheerfulness” (Romans 12:8).
The word diligence deserves attention. The gift of leading or organising is to be exercised with diligence, with earnest care and effort. Gifts are given by grace, but they are not meant to remain in the condition in which they arrived. A gift you have been told does not matter will not receive diligence. A gift you recognise as given by God for the good of His people deserves your best.
PunchlineComparison measures one person by another. God measures a gift by its faithful use and by the good it does for the people it was given to serve.
Stewards of a many-coloured grace
Peter writes about gifts with the language of stewardship:
As every man hath received the gift, even so minister the same one to another, as good stewards of the manifold grace of God. If any man speak, let him speak as the oracles of God; if any man minister, let him do it as of the ability which God giveth: that God in all things may be glorified through Jesus Christ, to whom be praise and dominion for ever and ever. Amen.
“As every man hath received the gift.” Again, every believer. Peter assumes that each member of the church has received something. And the purpose of the gift is immediately stated: “even so minister the same one to another.” Gifts are given to be passed on. They exist for the people they serve.
Peter calls believers “good stewards of the manifold grace of God.” A steward manages what belongs to someone else. The gift is not yours in the sense that you own it and may do with it as you please. It is God’s grace, entrusted to you for the household. And the word manifold translates a Greek word, poikilos, which means varied or many-coloured. God’s grace comes to His church in many colours. It shows up as a song, a sermon and a well-organised event. It shows up as a gift of hospitality, a gift of mercy and a gift of fixing what is broken. No single colour is the whole of it.
Peter then gives two broad categories. “If any man speak, let him speak as the oracles of God; if any man minister, let him do it as of the ability which God giveth.” Some gifts involve speaking. Others involve serving. Both are to be done with a sense that God is the source, whether that means words carefully faithful to His truth or service carried out in the strength He provides. And both have the same goal: “that God in all things may be glorified through Jesus Christ.”
That last phrase settles the matter of comparison. If the purpose of every gift is God’s glory, then the question is never, “Whose gift is greater?” It is, “Is God being glorified through what I have been given?” A spare microphone handed over in forty seconds, so that a church auction can continue and widows’ school fees can be paid from the proceeds, can glorify God as truly as a song that brings a hall to tears.
How gifts are recognised
Many believers wish they could discover their gift through a test. There are questionnaires that ask you to rate statements on a scale of one to five, and they can be useful as a starting point. But in Scripture, gifts are most often recognised in a different way. They become visible in service, and they are confirmed by others.
Consider what happened in the early church in Jerusalem:
And in those days, when the number of the disciples was multiplied, there arose a murmuring of the Grecians against the Hebrews, because their widows were neglected in the daily ministration. Then the twelve called the multitude of the disciples unto them , and said, It is not reason that we should leave the word of God, and serve tables. Wherefore, brethren, look ye out among you seven men of honest report, full of the Holy Ghost and wisdom, whom we may appoint over this business. But we will give ourselves continually to prayer, and to the ministry of the word.
A practical problem arose. Widows from Greek-speaking Jewish families were being overlooked in the daily distribution of food, and the complaint threatened to divide the church. The apostles recognised that they could not solve it themselves without neglecting prayer and the ministry of the word. So they asked the church to “look ye out among you seven men of honest report, full of the Holy Ghost and wisdom.”
Notice how this worked. A need appeared. The church looked around for people who were already known for their character and wisdom. And the people chosen were then appointed to a task that was largely administrative: the fair distribution of food. The apostles did not treat this as second-class work. They required that the men be full of the Holy Ghost. One of those chosen was Stephen, who would become the church’s first martyr, and another was Philip, who would later preach in Samaria. Their gifts were recognised as they served, and they grew as they served.
That is often how it happens. You do not usually discover a gift by staring inwards. You discover it by doing things, noticing what bears fruit and listening to what others see in you. “Faithful are the wounds of a friend” (Proverbs 27:6). “Iron sharpeneth iron; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend” (Proverbs 27:17). Honest feedback from people who love you is one of God’s main tools for showing you what you have.
So try things. Serve where there is a need. Ask mature believers what they have noticed. Pay attention when the same comment comes back to you from different people: you always see what is missing, people open up to you, you explain things clearly, you stay calm when things go wrong. And be honest with the feedback that tells you where you are not gifted. Ebiere’s choirmaster was right about her singing. That was useful information too. The point of feedback is to find where you can do the most good, not to protect your feelings or confirm your fears.
Gifts that grow through teaching
One of the earliest descriptions of a gift in Scripture concerns a craftsman. When Israel built the tabernacle in the wilderness, God called particular people to do the work:
And Moses said unto the children of Israel, See, the LORD hath called by name Bezaleel the son of Uri, the son of Hur, of the tribe of Judah; And he hath filled him with the spirit of God, in wisdom, in understanding, and in knowledge, and in all manner of workmanship; And to devise curious works, to work in gold, and in silver, and in brass, And in the cutting of stones, to set them , and in carving of wood, to make any manner of cunning work. And he hath put in his heart that he may teach, both he, and Aholiab, the son of Ahisamach, of the tribe of Dan. Them hath he filled with wisdom of heart, to work all manner of work, of the engraver, and of the cunning workman, and of the embroiderer, in blue, and in purple, in scarlet, and in fine linen, and of the weaver, even of them that do any work, and of those that devise cunning work.
“The LORD hath called by name Bezaleel.” This is the language of calling, and it is used for a man whose gift was metalwork, stone-cutting and wood-carving. God “filled him with the spirit of God, in wisdom, in understanding, and in knowledge, and in all manner of workmanship.” The first person in Scripture described as filled with the Spirit of God is an artisan.
That should honour every believer whose gift is practical. Engineers, designers, tailors, carpenters, mechanics, accountants and organisers can receive their abilities from the same Spirit who fills prophets. The work of their hands can be a calling.
Then notice verse 34: “he hath put in his heart that he may teach.” Bezaleel and Aholiab were not only gifted. They were given the desire to train others. The gift was meant to multiply. That tells us something important about how gifts work. They are given by God, and they are also learned, practised and passed on. A gift that is never developed and never shared falls short of what God intended for it.
So once you begin to recognise your gift, take it seriously enough to grow it. Find someone who does it better than you and learn from them. Read. Take training. Practise. And when you have learned something, find someone younger and teach them.
“What is that to thee?”
After His resurrection, Jesus restored Peter on the shore of the Sea of Galilee and told him how he would one day die. Peter immediately turned and saw John, and asked, “Lord, and what shall this man do?” (John 21:21). It is such a human question. Peter had just received a personal word from Jesus, and his first instinct was to compare it with someone else’s.
NuggetJesus answered: “If I will that he tarry till I come, what is that to thee? follow thou me” (John 21:22).
That answer is a gift to every believer caught in comparison. What is that to thee? Your sister’s voice, your colleague’s preaching, your friend’s influence: these are matters between them and the Lord. Your concern is to follow Him with what He has given you. Paul says something similar: “let every man prove his own work, and then shall he have rejoicing in himself alone, and not in another” (Galatians 6:4). The joy of a gift faithfully used does not depend on being better than somebody else.
Freedom from comparison also makes it possible to celebrate others. When you are not measuring yourself against your sister, you can rejoice in her gift without any hidden ache. When one member is honoured, all the members rejoice, because there is no competition in a body. The hand does not resent the eye.
This needs a few guard-rails. First, refusing to compare does not mean refusing to learn from others. You can admire a gifted person and study how they work without measuring your worth by them. Second, your gift is not your identity. You are a child of God first, and that would remain true if you lost the ability to use any gift at all. Third, church leaders have a particular responsibility here. If a congregation only ever honours the most visible gifts from the pulpit, it will train its members to compare. Thank the people who serve unseen. Name what they do. Paul did this himself, commending Phebe as “a succourer of many, and of myself also” (Romans 16:2).
And not every gift must be exercised inside a church building. Your ability to manage people, solve problems or care for the sick may be used most fully in your workplace, your family and your community. A gift used there still glorifies God.
Two weeks after the harvest thanksgiving, Mrs Oyelaran asked Ebiere to come and see her. She was the church administrator, a woman in her sixties with reading glasses on a chain and a reputation for saying exactly what she thought.
“I want to tell you something,” she said, “and I want you to listen without arguing.” She took out a sheet of paper. On it she had written a list of everything that had gone wrong on the day of the harvest and what Ebiere had done about it. The diesel. The ramp. The children’s tables. The double offering. The microphone. There were eleven items.
“Do you know what this is?” Mrs Oyelaran asked. Ebiere shook her head. “This is a gift. Paul calls it governments. It is steering. Most people in that hall had a beautiful evening because you were steering the ship and they never felt the waves.”
Then she said something less comfortable. “But you are doing it on instinct and stress. You carry everything in your head. You do not delegate. If you fell sick the week before an event, it would collapse. That is not humility, my dear. That is a gift that has not been developed, because you never believed it was worth developing.”
Ebiere told me she cried in the car afterwards. Some of it was the relief of being seen. Some of it was the sting of being told the truth.
The following year she enrolled in a part-time course in project management. She began writing down her systems so others could follow them. She trained three younger volunteers, one of whom now runs the children’s section on her own. At the next harvest thanksgiving, she was still at the back with a clipboard, but she was no longer carrying everything alone.
Near the end of that evening, an elderly man in a wheelchair stopped her at the door. He had been a member of the church for thirty years. “This is the second year I have come in through the front,” he said. “For a long time I used the side entrance by the kitchen. Thank you.”
PunchlineHis words did not go on any banner. But Ebiere wrote them on the inside cover of her planner, where she still reads them before every event.
Perhaps you have been comparing your gift with someone else’s and concluding that yours does not count. Look again at what you actually do and at the people who benefit from it. Listen to the honest friends who see what you cannot. Then take what God has given you, and give it your diligence. It has been given for the good of His people, and it is one of the many colours of His grace.
Teaching Companion
For Reflection
- Whose gift do you most often compare yourself with? What has that comparison done to the way you value and develop your own abilities?
- In 1 Corinthians 12, the foot says, “Because I am not the hand, I am not of the body.” Where do you hear that voice in your own thinking?
- What comments have different people made to you, more than once, about what you do well? What might they be showing you?
- Is there a gift you recognise but have never taken the trouble to develop? What would diligence with that gift look like?
- Who in your church or workplace serves quietly and is rarely thanked? How could you honour them this month?
This Week
Ask two mature believers who know you well to answer two questions honestly: “Where have you seen me do the most good?” and “Where do you think I need to grow?” Write their answers down without arguing. Then choose one ability that their answers confirm and take one practical step to develop it this month: a book, a course, a conversation with someone more experienced, or a new opportunity to serve. Finally, write a note of thanks to one person whose unseen gift has blessed you.
A Prayer
Father, thank You for every gift You have given to Your church, and for the gift You have given to me. Forgive me for measuring myself by others, for despising what You have entrusted to me, and for envying what You have given someone else. Teach me to think soberly, according to the grace You have dealt. Give me friends who will tell me the truth, and the humility to hear it. Help me to develop what You have given with diligence, to use it for the good of others and to teach it to those who come after me. Let me rejoice when others are honoured, and let You be glorified in all things through Jesus Christ. Amen.
Truth received brings freedom. Truth believed establishes the heart.
Scripture quotations are from the King James Version. · Illustrations using first names only are composites unless stated otherwise.