That's Not Fair - Check The Scoreboard!
THAT’S NOT FAIR
Check the Scoreboard
There are some things nobody has to teach us to say.
“That’s not fair!” is one of them.
Nobody has to explain fairness to a two-year-old whose brother got the bigger cookie. Nobody has to teach a teenager to notice who got invited, who made the team, who got the relationship, or whose parents seem to have everything together.
We notice.
And sometimes the hardest part isn’t that someone else has something we don’t.
It’s what seeing their life starts making us believe about our own.
I learned that pretty early.
Then I Saw What They Had
When I was eleven, my parents divorced.
Eventually, the unusual became normal.
During the week, I lived with my mom. Every other weekend, and sometimes during the summer, I went to my dad’s. We moved what felt like constantly. For a while, it seemed like every year brought another house, another place, another version of normal.
And when you’re a kid, you adapt.
I wasn’t walking around every day thinking about everything my family didn’t have.
This was simply my life.
Then, in high school, I started spending more time at my friends’ houses.
First it was my neighbors, Michael and Danny. Later, I started hanging out and staying over at Chris’s house.
And I started seeing something that felt strangely unfamiliar.
Mom and Dad were both there.
Two parents.
Two incomes.
One home.
I watched parents interact with each other about their kids instead of communicating through their kids.
I saw something I desperately missed: a parent who had enough time to sit at the ballfield and watch their kid play.
I remembered what that had felt like when I was little.
And suddenly, I wanted it again.
I wanted parents who agreed on how to guide me through the world instead of pulling me in separate directions. I didn’t want to feel like I was somehow in control of the relationships around me, or responsible for making sure one parent didn’t think I loved the other one more.
Nothing about my life had actually changed.
But I had finally seen what somebody else had.
And comparison has a strange way of doing that.
There’s an experiment with monkeys that explains it better than I probably ever could.
Watch This
There’s a famous experiment involving capuchin monkeys that I’ve shown students before.
Two monkeys perform the same simple task and receive a reward.
One gets cucumber.
The other gets a grape.
What happens next is hilarious.
The capuchin monkey fairness experiment. The video begins at the experiment.
My Cucumber Was Fine
The first monkey was perfectly content with cucumber.
Then he saw the grape.
And suddenly cucumber was unacceptable.
He throws it back. He gets angry.
And that’s what had happened to me.
And suddenly, the cucumber didn’t seem nearly as good.
But there’s one little moment in that video I find even more interesting.
He checks the rock.
He bangs it against the wall almost like he’s inspecting it.
Every time I watch it, I imagine that monkey thinking:
Maybe there’s something wrong with my rock.
Maybe the other monkey has a grape rock.
Maybe mine is inferior.
Maybe if I can figure out what’s wrong with mine, I can finally get what he has.
I know I’m assigning a lot of internal dialogue to a monkey.
But I’ve spent enough years working with teenagers to know that we do the exact same thing.
The Comparison Olympics
Teenagers usually don’t walk into my office and announce:
“Pastor Jon, I feel inferior to my peers.”
It usually starts much more confidently than that.
“I am enough. Why don’t they see it?”
Why didn’t I get invited?
Why didn’t I make the team?
Why doesn’t she like me?
Why didn’t they choose me?
Why does everybody else seem to know where they’re going after high school?
Why doesn’t my family look like theirs?
At first, there’s almost an innocence to it.
I deserve the grape too.
Teenagers are so innocent until proven less than.
Most kids arrive at adolescence after years of parents, grandparents, teachers and other people telling them they are valuable.
They’re loved.
They’re capable.
They matter.
Then they arrive in what might be the greatest comparison Olympics of their lives.
Bodies change.
Friend groups change.
Dating starts.
Sports become competitive.
Grades suddenly seem attached to your future.
College enters the conversation.
And now they carry a device in their pocket that allows them to look at everybody else’s grapes all day long.
At first they look at the world and say:
“You’re wrong. I belong here.”
But enough rejection can change the question.
Enough comparison.
Enough times not getting invited.
Enough times looking in the mirror.
Enough times seeing somebody else’s family.
Enough times being passed over.
Eventually:
“Why don’t they see my value?”
becomes
“Maybe I’m not valuable.”
And that is the moment the monkey starts checking the rock.
I’ve Checked My Rock Too
There have been legitimate reasons I’ve been picked last.
As I gained weight, I became increasingly aware that people saw me differently because of it.
But one of the clearest examples came in ministry.
Years ago, I became convinced I was supposed to pastor at Concord Community Church.
There was just one problem.
Concord didn’t want me.
I was trying to get them to seriously consider me for the youth pastor position.
They wouldn’t.
I didn’t meet the criteria.
I didn’t have the particular degree they were looking for. I hadn’t followed the traditional path they expected.
And wow, did that set me off.
Because eventually it stopped being:
Why won’t Concord consider me?
and started becoming:
Did I do this wrong?
Maybe I made a mistake by pursuing ministry so early.
Maybe I should have taken a more traditional academic route.
Maybe I needed the right degree.
Maybe I needed to be different.
Maybe there was something wrong with my rock.
The irony, of course, is that I eventually became the youth pastor at Concord anyway.
And I’ve now spent years serving in the place that once wouldn’t seriously consider me.
Being passed over wasn’t proof that I had misunderstood God’s call.
But it sure felt like it at the time.
That experience taught me something I wish teenagers could learn before comparison teaches them something else:
Being passed over does not determine your value.
And neither does being picked.
Your value isn’t something popularity creates or rejection can erase.
You are someone God created, loves, and Christ gave Himself to redeem.
That is a much stronger foundation than somebody choosing you.
Jesus Told a Story That Isn’t Fair
Jesus once told a story about a landowner hiring people to work in his vineyard.
He hired some early in the morning.
Then more at 9:00.
Again at noon.
Again at 3:00.
And then, with almost no workday left, he went back at 5:00.
He found people still standing there.
When he asked why, their answer gets me every time:
“Because no one has hired us.”
Nobody picked them.
Everybody else had been chosen, and they were still standing there.
But the landowner chose them anyway.
Then payday arrived.
The people who worked one hour received a full day’s wage.
Naturally, the people who had worked all day expected more.
They didn’t get more.
They received exactly what they had agreed to receive.
And they were furious.
Their complaint was essentially:
They didn’t earn it.
And they were right.
They didn’t.
That’s part of the scandal of Jesus’ story.
The first workers didn’t receive too little.
The last workers received generosity they could never claim they had earned.
“Are you envious because I am generous?”
Matthew 20:15
That’s uncomfortable.
Because the first workers were perfectly happy with what they had agreed to receive...
until they saw somebody else’s grape.
The landowner hadn’t taken anything from them.
Someone else receiving generosity simply made their own reward feel smaller.
Sound familiar?
At 38, I Have Plenty of Grapes to Look At
I’m a 38-year-old youth pastor.
I’ve watched people I went to college with move into jobs that, at least by the normal measures of success, are “better” than mine.
I’ve watched other pastors move on to the “big leagues.”
Bigger churches.
Bigger titles.
Bigger opportunities.
Bigger salaries.
Heck, some of the students I’ve pastored over the years already have the degrees and big jobs!
If I want to build a scoreboard that tells me I’m behind, I have plenty of material.
But here’s one of the ways the grace of Jesus has been changing me:
I genuinely get excited when those people win.
I don’t look at them and think they didn’t deserve it.
I celebrate them.
Over time, the Holy Spirit has been teaching me that somebody else’s win doesn’t have to become my loss.
And I’ve also begun to recognize that something the world could interpret as my failure to advance has allowed me to succeed at something I care about far more.
I’ve gotten to become a launching pad.
Students I’ve invested in have grown up.
They’ve graduated.
They’ve gone to college.
They’ve entered careers.
Some have entered ministry.
They’ve become leaders.
They’ve built lives.
And I’ve gotten to stand in the same place long enough to watch a lot of them launch.
Maybe staying isn’t always failure to advance.
Sometimes staying is what allows somebody else to launch.
That doesn’t mean ambition is bad.
It doesn’t mean we shouldn’t grow.
And it certainly doesn’t mean disappointment stops hurting.
It means somebody else’s success doesn’t have to become evidence of my failure.
Their grape doesn’t make my cucumber worthless.
Teenagers Need Someone Who Can Explain the Rock
This is one reason I believe youth pastors, small-group leaders, mentors, coaches, teachers, parents and good friends matter so much.
There comes a moment for many teenagers when years of assumed confidence finally buckle under the weight of comparison.
They’ve been told they’re valuable.
But eventually they need more than:
“You’re amazing!”
They need to know why they have value.
Because the world is going to present evidence to the contrary.
Someone will be prettier.
Someone will be stronger.
Someone will make the team.
Someone else will get invited.
Someone’s parents will still be married.
Someone will have more money.
Someone will get into the school.
Someone will get the relationship.
Affirmation without a foundation isn’t enough.
When a teenager starts checking the rock, they need somebody close enough to notice.
Somebody who can look them in the eye and remind them that their value was never determined by whether somebody invited them, selected them, dated them, hired them or applauded them.
For those of us who follow Jesus, we can give them something deeper than another compliment.
We can point them toward the One who created them, loves them, gave Himself for them and wants a relationship with them.
Those moments are why youth pastors matter.
They’re why small-group leaders matter.
They’re why mentors matter.
They’re why good friends matter.
Because if you’re there when the question changes from:
“Why don’t they see my value?”
to:
“Do I have any value?”
what you say next can matter more than you realize.
Sometimes it can literally save a life.
Check the Scoreboard
There’s a line I’ve used for years that has become more meaningful to me the longer I’ve lived:
You can’t get more than everything.
I’ve lived long enough now to know life can run the score up on you.
Divorce.
Depression.
The deaths of people you love.
Sickness.
Disappointment.
Not getting the job.
Watching somebody else make more money.
Watching somebody else receive the opportunity.
Watching somebody else’s life contain things you’ve prayed for and never received.
And if you’re constantly comparing, eventually you start keeping score.
Their house.
Point for them.
Their salary.
Another point.
Their family.
Another point.
Their opportunity.
Another point.
And pretty soon you look up at the scoreboard and think:
I’m getting killed.
But maybe you need to check the scoreboard again.
Because when you receive the life Jesus offers, you aren’t simply adding another accomplishment to your side of the board.
You’ve been brought into relationship with God.
You are forgiven.
You belong to Him.
You get His presence now, and life with Him forever.
There’s something sitting on your side of the scoreboard that comparison can’t calculate:
Infinity.
So what good would it do for somebody else to score a million touchdowns if you already have infinity on the scoreboard?
Let them score another.
Celebrate with them.
Cheer them on.
Infinity still wins.
And infinity winning doesn’t mean the pain didn’t hurt.
It means the pain doesn’t get the final score.
Jesus Christ died for me.
He rose again.
And He offers me something I could never achieve, purchase, deserve or earn:
relationship with God.
Not just someday.
Now.
I can know Him.
I can walk with Him.
I can be forgiven by Him.
I can belong to Him.
And I get life with Him forever.
What exactly is supposed to beat that?
A bigger salary?
A better title?
A nicer house?
A more impressive résumé?
Those things can be good.
I can even want some of them.
But they can’t compete.
You can’t get more than everything.
That’s why I can live from victory even in seasons that don’t feel victorious.
That’s why I can live a life of spiritual abundance even when life doesn’t look abundant.
That’s why I can believe that no matter what life throws at me, it doesn’t get to steal my joy.
And that’s why I can look at the grape in my neighbor’s hand and celebrate it.
Their blessing doesn’t subtract from mine.
Their success doesn’t diminish mine.
Their grace doesn’t cost me mine.
Check the scoreboard.
Infinity still wins.
Stop Checking the Rock
I wish I could go back and tell that high-school kid bouncing between Mom’s house and Dad’s house some of this.
I wouldn’t tell him not to want what he saw at Michael and Danny’s house or Chris’s house.
I wouldn’t tell him his hurt wasn’t legitimate.
I wouldn’t tell him to stop wishing his parents were together.
Some things hurt because something genuinely valuable has been lost.
Gratitude doesn’t require pretending the cucumber is a grape.
But I would tell him this:
What you’re seeing in somebody else’s house doesn’t make you less valuable.
I’d tell the future pastor who couldn’t even get his résumé considered the same thing.
And I’d tell the teenager sitting across from me today the same thing.
Maybe your life isn’t what you thought it would be.
Maybe somebody else got something you desperately wanted.
Maybe you’ve been passed over enough times that you’ve stopped questioning everybody else and started questioning yourself.
Maybe you’ve spent so long looking at everybody else’s grapes that you’re holding your own life up to the light, banging it against the wall, desperately trying to figure out:
What’s wrong with my rock?
There may be things about your life that aren’t fair.
There may be losses that deserve to be grieved rather than explained away.
There may be things you should work to change.
But don’t let comparison convince you that somebody else’s blessing is evidence of your lack of value.
And don’t let the scoreboard make you forget what Jesus has already offered you.
Grace.
Forgiveness.
Belonging.
The presence of God.
A Savior who knows you.
A Father who calls you His.
Hope.
Resurrection.
Life with Him now and forever.
The cucumber was fine until I saw the grape.
But after all these years, I’m learning something even better:
I don’t have to resent the grape.
I can celebrate it.
Because in Jesus, I haven’t just been promised forever.
I’ve been brought into relationship with God, and that relationship changes what everything else is worth.
I am known.
I am loved.
I am forgiven.
I belong to Him.
And I get to walk with Him now and forever.
That doesn’t even belong on the same scoreboard.
You can’t get more than everything.
Check the scoreboard.