I have no idea how it started.

Little hints of discouragement. The nagging whispers of “Those other authors are better than you. Their books look like they are doing well. Is yours even selling?” 

A rough day with the kids and that poisonous hiss tickled my ear. “If you were a better mom, this wouldn’t have happened.” 

A long to-do list that is never completed. Phone calls that never stop. Some days, I feel like I’m struggling just to keep my head above water. I know I’m not alone.

What’s the obvious solution? Work harder.

I should be a better mother. A better wife. A better daughter, sister and friend. Yet how do I continue to give when my tank is depleted?

I get need to get more organized, right? Clean and gut the house. Put everything in its place and create a schedule. I need to do a better job promoting my book. Make sure I’m getting the word out. Keep up with all those other authors who seem to have it together.

If comparison is the thief of joy, then bad motives are the thieves of peace.

This morning, as I sat staring at my Bible through bleary eyes, I realized all my striving was nothing more than selfishness. I had once again fallen into the hole of pleasing others to fill a need inside myself. My strive for book promotion was to bolster my own waning self-confidence. My strive for availability had more to do with not wanting to be a failure than pure motives rooted in love.

For the first time in many weeks, I put down my to-do list and offered up a simple prayer. 

Lord, may I never pursue anything—success, acclaim, relationships, or dreams—with greater passion than I pursue you.

Everything else will ultimately pass away. I want to live for the things that matter…to know my Father and let His love splash onto the lives of others.