A few days ago I wrote The Truth of You (part 1) about the lies others tell us and our choice to believe them or not. Today I’m thinking about other lies. The social media movement has created a whole new set of voices that can lie to us.

On Facebook I can keep up to date on friends’ lives. Or I can see how much more interesting your life is than mine. I’ll notice that your wedding photographer is better than mine. I’ll note how perfectly your kids pose for pictures. I’ll be in awe about how fulfilling your job is. Of course I’ll also live vicariously through your single life, your talk about going out with friends or your incredible vacation.

On Twitter, I can read quotes that are snappy, wise or sarcastic and see people linking to one another’s blogs. There are even links to articles on how to get more followers and get retweeted more often. All designed to point out to me that I don’t currently have enough followers – probably because I’m not witty or wise enough.

Then there is pinterest. I don’t personally have a pinterest account, but thanks to people who link it to Facebook, I can see things some people have “pinned”. I’ve seen beauty tips and tricks, recipes to impress at a dinner party, crafts that will come out perfectly every time, fancy ways to pack my kids’ lunches, and instructions for braiding my hair like a celebrity.

In the meantime, you’re looking at the same sites. Maybe you’re just keeping in touch with old friends. Maybe I’m the only one who finds myself seeing these updates, tweets, pins, photos and  ever thinks “I wish…”. But the old saying is “the grass is always greener…on the other side of the fence.”  Social media has given us a whole new set of pastures to imagine as greener. So I’m going to take a wild guess here: you’re doing it too.

This isn’t about the lies in a magazine, or the lies others tell (like part 1). This is the lie of comparison. The lie of seeing what’s great in your life and letting it bring me down. I know you’re not putting it there to make me feel bad, but I sometimes walk away feeling like I’m less, like I’m barely adequate, like I’m not doing enough.

So what’s the truth? Where we live, work, what we can afford… God’s put us in this place. Our grass is pretty green and during the dry months God’s there too. The truth is that He’s got a plan for you.
You’re his creation, created with purpose.
You’re wonderfully made, his craftsmanship shows through you.
You have gifts, given to be used for his glory, but you aren’t perfect.

So look around, celebrate what you’ve been given and the phase you’re in. The truth about me is that my kids don’t always cooperate and my bed is almost never made (unless J does it). I’m a good baker, but not a very creative cook, and our diet is more kid-friendly than figure-friendly. My kids’ lunches are boring, but they eat them, and I love my wedding photos. I’m telling you now that my grass isn’t greener – in fact sometimes my side of the fence is a hot mess and yours is too, whether you want to admit it on the interweblogosphere or not. But we’re more than adequate, more than just surviving: we are to be celebrated. If the God I know has decided that I’m worth having at his table, then I’m deciding now to accept me and celebrate you. I will celebrate our awesomeness and our weakness, and I will not let social media make your pastures appear greener. I will strive to believe the truth of me, and I’ll remind you of the truth of you.

The Truth of You (part 2)
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