Human beings tend to see love as a zero-sum game. For every win there must be a loss. When Jesus told those in the synagogue that God’s love extended even to foreigners and Gentiles, the people were enraged. That’s zero-sum thinking: if someone else wins, I lose. There’s not enough of God’s love to go around; if someone I consider unworthy gets it, I’m being shortchanged.

Which is nonsense, of course, but it’s a common belief that underlies much contemporary discourse. It shows up in a lot of areas—politics, religion, business—in fact, wherever people can delude themselves into thinking they are better, or more deserving, or better able to use properly whatever reward is out there.

And it shows up in in music ministry, often as simmering resentment. “She gets all the solos! She’s not the only good singer!” “He can’t even read music!” “I’m sick of not being recognized.”

If we’re looking to get all our ego needs met in one place, music ministry isn’t that place. Singing in a choir or playing in an ensemble requires giving up a certain amount of autonomy—and that can be difficult. It’s a good idea to keep a running reality check: what can I do to make things better? Can I help the guy who doesn’t read music, so that he becomes a better singer and we all benefit? Can I talk to the director outside of rehearsal and calmly discuss possible problems? Am I recognizing the good work others do?

Music, like love, is not a zero-sum game. There’s enough love—and music—for everybody to have all they need.