I had never heard God speak to me about this particular thing before, and even as I heard the words that day about covetousness, I didn’t think too much about it. I had always thought of covetousness as earthly possessions, money, and lifestyle, and I had never longed for them so much that it was a problem in my life. Yet when some of the next words came, my heart stuttered a bit at what God wanted me to hear. It was a simple question, yet the Maker of the stars made it so profound to me. “Do you want those things you cannot have?” Something pricked at my heart then—the part of my heart that longs to draw ever closer to God—and my mind began turning.

Maybe I don’t long for fashion or riches or earthly possessions, but what about other things? What about things that aren’t material? Maybe I long to be part of a family who is whole. A family that’s not broken by the things that come in life, that’s not broken by Satan’s tactics, that’s not broken by entitlements. And maybe I long for it so much that whenever I see families that are whole, my eyes dim for sheer want of it. 

Maybe I long for a friend to share my heart, to walk this way with me, to always be down for coffee. I find within myself a deep desire for closeness, for community, for hearts shared. And maybe I long for it so much that it pains my heart very deeply when I hear of others with these close ties and my covetous heart wonders why I can’t have it too.

Maybe I see in others what I would like in myself. A soft voice, a lovely face, or gifts that God has not chosen to bestow on me. And maybe as I see how others are, I wish for this too—so much that I find myself disgruntled with the way God chose to make me. 

Maybe I see in others popularity. The way they are so well liked, the way everyone always chooses them, the way people are drawn to them. And maybe as I see this, I desire it so much within myself that I covet a position I do not have. It becomes a source of evil to me. A selfishness made from the pride of my heart.

Maybe I see families whose lives have not been broken by grief. Moms who don’t need to deal with the long term effects of losing a child. The things no one ever sees. The things one would never imagine would hang on for years to come. Maybe as I see those moms of 15-year-olds, the shadows again dim my vision. And although it’s normal to wonder what my girl would be like now, there may be days when the longing—the coveting—can be edged with a bitterness that others get to see their child grow up and that they don’t need to go through life a little broken.

And I wonder how many of these things which are not material—these matters of the mind and heart—are just as much of a danger to my spiritual welfare. God has given me this life. He has given me the good things of it along with the not so good. And if it so easy for me to count it as gain when the wheel turns in my favor, can it not be so easy to count it as gain when I face the same struggles again and again?

If my heart had never been broken, if the way would never be hard, if my personality was such that it couldn’t be faulted, would I have need of Christ? 1 Corinthians 12:31 says to covet earnestly the best gifts. To me, the best gift is Christ. The best gift is the Maker of the universe. The best gift is salvation. And what more could I long for?

But this oh, so human heart of mine gets filled with covetousness at times. Yet if each and every time I could turn that around and covet only Christ, I would see the much more excellent way He is showing me. (1 Corinthians 12:31).

The definition in the Oxford dictionary for covet is to “yearn to possess or have something.” And when I can learn to covet Christ—the One who covets me—I will find joy beyond what I can ever imagine.