As a middle-aged Baby Boomer I have vivid memories of a sociological experiment in the 1960s and 70s: Young, idealistic Americans moved close together to form communes. These experimental communities would provide the joy of a simple, voluntary socialism, without all the hypocrisies and spiritual emptiness of Middle America.

Few of those communes endured longer than five years. Observers noted from the beginning that there was approximately one automobile parked outside a typical commune for each person living on the inside. In other words, commitment was tentative. Even more telling are the testimonies of those who sincerely endeavored to live in close proximity to their neighbors, sharing their possessions and ideals. More often than not they came to distrust and despise each other.

How did this happen? It is an old, old story. God calls us to live in community with each other. We can change our addresses, change our neighbors, and do our best to change our attitudes. But apart from changed hearts, history proves that our best attempts at community are always less than a generation away from running off the rails.

Why is this so? Can’t we learn to care for each other in the midst of suffering? Interestingly, most of us find it far easier to deal with our neighbors’ suffering than to handle their success – especially if our neighbors have been dreaming some of our same dreams. There are three words that are essentially “kissing cousins” that helpfully describe this challenge: Coveting, jealousy, and envy.

Coveting means, "I want what you have." Coveting is the solid foundation on which the physical appearance industry of our culture is built. Specifically, I will worry and work myself silly and make major sacrifices just to obtain the long list of things that my neighbors and TV commercials have convinced me I cannot live without. In the Bible coveting is always a bad choice, and it is prohibited by the tenth of the Ten Commandments.

Jealousy is different. Jealousy says, “I don’t want you to have what I have.” In other words, “I want to hold on to what is mine." Jealousy can be petty. I won’t share my best ideas with other people, because I alone want the credit for them. Jealousy can also be appropriate. A wife may feel powerfully threatened when she senses that another woman is attracted to her husband. She is jealous for the singular attention from her husband that she as his spouse deserves. In Scripture we learn that God is a jealous God (Exodus 20:5). It is wholly appropriate – it is, in fact, quite literally godly – that he demands the exclusive loyalty of his people. He refuses to let a mere idol lure us away from him.

Envy, on the other hand, is considerably more aggressive. Envy says, "I don't want you to have what you have. I want you to lose the things you value the most, and to feel the kind of pain that I feel." Envy is threatened by the successes and joys of others. It seeks to deprive other people of happiness. When somebody else falls flat on his face, envy is what makes us whisper, "Thank God!"

Envy is a nothing less than a cancer in the Body of Christ. It is what makes the childless couple bitter when somebody else complains about how hard it is to take care of children. Envy is the resentment we feel toward the person who takes his job for granted when a lot of us are unemployed. It’s what makes the other students hope that the math wiz will bomb the next test…and it will serve him right. Envy makes us feel agitated toward the person who always gets asked to do something important at church...and they never ask me.

How then can we fulfill God’s call to care when someone else suffers, and to be genuinely glad when someone else is honored? Our hearts must change. Only God can effect such a transformation. Equipped with a new security in Christ, we can remember that we don’t have to be somebody else, and we don’t need to own anything else, to be profoundly happy. We can live with the assurance that we are members of God’s forever family. God has given us a unique calling. Our individual gifts matter. The God-implanted dream that is at the center of each of our lives doesn't have to be compared with anybody else's in order to have validity.

What will God ask us when we get to heaven? He won’t ask, “Why weren’t you more like your sister? Or why weren’t you more like Billy Graham?” God will ask, “Why weren’t you more like you?”

A couple of years ago I became frustrated because a friend of mine was experiencing a series of victories, and I wasn’t. I found myself not wanting to talk to him. As days turned into weeks, it began to bug me that he didn’t have the common decency to call me up and ask how I was doing, and to offer me some comfort. The more I thought about this, the more painful it became. I began to imagine him gloating. Without even recognizing it, I started devoting a sizeable block of minutes every day just to telling him off in my imagination. About the time it became hard to fall asleep, I thought, “What is going on here? I need to confront this guy and get this out in the open.”

Amazingly, when we finally did sit down to share lunch, I looked into my friend’s eyes and realized that I had conjured up this whole scenario in my own mind. He was full of care for me, and I realized that I cared deeply for him. Furthermore he had been having a much rougher time than I knew, and I found myself longing to help him. For months I had fretted and stewed about nothing.

What does it mean to be the Body of Christ – to belong to a new kind of community that is formed by God's grace? It means to trust God for the miracle of a changed heart. Our call is to learn to rejoice with those who rejoice, and to hurt with those who hurt. That can't happen as long as we imagine our differences to be bigger than the one thing that we have in common – the incredible One who forgives and saves us.