“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.”
— Romans 12:15
My 14-year-old rides the bus. She hates it. We get it. It takes longer, there is no air conditioner, and the Kansas heat is no joke.
Folks are worried about this generation. But a story she told me should give you hope.
She said there is a girl with special needs on the bus. This particular day, the girl announced to the entire bus that she had been invited to the Homecoming dance. HoCo, as the kids call it. My daughter, Imani, and her friend Arianna ride the bus, and neither had been asked to the Homecoming dance. Neither really cared. They don’t know this girl very well. But both were genuinely happy — because this girl was happy.
No jealousy. No comparison. Just joy for someone else’s moment.
That is Romans 12:15 in action. Rejoice with those who rejoice. Two teenagers on a hot bus did it without thinking twice.
Then, I am scrolling through Facebook and see a video of my friend’s daughter’s dorm room. First of all, nothing like my dorm room — these rooms are amazing. His daughter has this quote hanging on her wall:
“Comparison is the thief of joy.”
That has long been one of my favorite Roosevelt quotes. But here is what hit me. This 20-year-old already has it on her wall. I didn’t find that quote until just a few years ago. A lesson I certainly didn’t have mastered until much later in life, and one I still struggle with myself. She is already working on it at 20.
And Imani? She is living it at 14 without even knowing the quote exists.
Three generations. Three stages of the same lesson. The 20-year-old is learning it. I am still working on it. And a 14-year-old is just doing it.
I am reminded of Imani’s 13th birthday. She had invited a few girls over. They were all close friends of hers, but the girls didn’t know each other very well. They are chatting, getting to know one another, and one of her friends says this:
“Don’t we all have a girl crush on Imani?”
In that moment, I got to hear each girl gush about my daughter. No comparison. Just celebration. I realized she had picked her friends well. Iron sharpening iron.
A year later, that same kid is on a hot school bus, cheering for a girl she barely knows — because that girl got her moment. The friends sharpened the iron, and I am seeing the result.
Jonathan understood this. He was the king’s son. The throne was supposed to be his. But when it became clear that God had chosen David, Jonathan didn’t compare or compete. He celebrated David. He gave David his own robe and weapons. That is not just tolerating someone else’s blessing — that is actively cheering for it, even when you could argue it came at your expense.
“You will be king over Israel, and I will be second to you.”
— 1 Samuel 23:17
We have all been in the comparison trap. Scrolling through someone’s highlight reel and measuring it against our behind-the-scenes. Watching someone get the promotion, the house, the invite — and feeling that little sting instead of that genuine happiness.
But on a bus in Kansas, with no air conditioning and no audience, a 14-year-old reminded me what it looks like to just be happy for somebody.
Something about writing it makes you live it.
Niki McDowell is a Stage 3B triple-negative breast cancer survivor, a wife, a mom, and a woman who does her homework. She writes from somewhere between faith and the fight.
My Prayer
God, take the sting out of comparison. Help me be the person on the bus — the one who is just happy for somebody else. Let me rejoice with those who rejoice, without measuring their moment against mine. In Jesus’ name, I pray.
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