Tag: contentment

Inner peace

I’ve known many restless people. They’re sad, disappointed. Often they believe they’ve been dealt a bad hand. The great work they do is never recognised. The best opportunities never come their way. They’re dissatisfied, rarely thankful, and constantly striving but never arriving.

However, I also know people who are deeply content, happy with their lot, fulfilled, pleased with what they’ve done, what they have, and relaxed about what the future holds. They have inner peace.

What characterises that second group, those who are at peace, who feel content and fulfilled? The answers aren’t the same for everyone, but there are distinct features in the lives of content people.

Contentment is a decision they make

Much of the time we attach satisfaction, sufficiency, fulfilment to achievement. We think, ‘I’ll be content if I get this promotion, or buy that house, or have everything I want’. Bill took pride in his photography. Rightly so, for he was good, occasionally paid to do a photo shoot. “Of course,” he told me, “to do exceptional work I’d need the very best lenses”. But Bill couldn’t afford them. Each lens would cost thousands of dollars, money he did not have. So Bill was restless. I’m fairly clued up on photography, and I knew the lenses he used already were excellent. But they were not the very best. And Bill could not be content with that. His problem? His inner feelings depended on achieving external things, such as the ‘best lenses’. Even if he’d had the money to buy them, he’d soon be discontent again. Why? Because in a year or two there would certainly be ‘better still’ lenses. Similarly, those who think they’ll be satisfied if only they get a promotion or live in a dream house, they’d soon long for an even higher promotion, or an even more dreamy house. Such folk are endlessly restless because they imagine the route to contentment involves getting all they want.

Those with inner peace don’t connect their satisfaction to achievement. They choose to be content with what they have. That doesn’t mean they never strive for something better, but even if everything stays just as it is, they’re okay. Contentment for them is a choice, not something that exists only if everything falls into place. While he was a prisoner in jail, the Apostle Paul wrote: ‘I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances’ (Philippians 4:11). Those are wise words.

 Being at peace with our Maker

Just once, I rashly attempted to do pottery. Even more rashly, I had a go at wheel throwing a bowl. That involved shaping the clay into a bowl while the clay was spinning on a wheel. I was spectacularly unsuccessful. I didn’t use the right amount of water and didn’t place my hands correctly to shape the clay. But my fundamental problem was that I didn’t get my clay centred. The wheel turned but the clay was off-centre, so it wobbled around and then collapsed. If the wheel had been spinning any faster, my clay might have ended up on the far side of the room. Trust me, you could get everything else right but failure to centre the clay will doom your pottery to disaster.

My perspective, as a Christian, is that our lives need to find their centre in God. Perhaps the most famous statement of that truth was written more than 1620 years ago by Augustine of Hippo[1]: ‘you have made us and drawn us to yourself, and our heart is restless until it rests in you’ (St Augustine, Confessions[2]). Augustine’s restlessness about how he was living was resolved only when he made peace with God.

I’ve talked with many restless people. Some could not let go of past sins. Some could not forgive those who had wronged them. Some could not shake off their parents’ disappointment in them. Some couldn’t come to terms with their own failed ambitions. Some felt they’d missed life-changing opportunities. Some couldn’t cure unhealthy or unacceptable habits.

With those restless people, I never suggested that a quick prayer could sort out their struggles. But I did talk with them about who made them and what their lives were for. Some found a new centre for their lives in knowing God, finding forgiveness for themselves and others, and a new sense of purpose for the future. Others coped with their off-centred lives, but were not at peace.

Contentment isn’t about getting more but being satisfied with what we have

In October 2022, I wrote this in a blog post:
Many years ago, when the Glasgow area called the Gorbals had the worst of tenement slums, I visited a young Christian worker who lived in the most troubled area of the Gorbals. Not only were these tenements in dangerously poor condition, gangs and drugs dominated the streets. That young man’s small flat was over-run with local kids, who ate his food, watched his TV, lounged on his sofa, and sometimes stole his property. No matter how tough his life was, that Christian didn’t leave. He kept right on befriending youth, helping them and forgiving them. (https://occasionallywise.com/2022/10/05/a-good-tree-bears-good-fruit/)

I talked for some time with that Christian worker in his tenement flat. He had very little, partly because his more valuable things had been stolen. “God knows where they are,” he told me with a wry smile, “so they’re not really lost, are they?”. He was at peace. He didn’t long for what he didn’t have; he didn’t wish to live anywhere safer or more pleasant; he didn’t long for any other kind of work. He was in the right place doing the right thing, and therefore at peace.

I admit there have been times when I’ve thought ‘If only I had this or that, then life would be good’. But now, thankfully, I’m usually content with what I have. Recently my laptop died. It wouldn’t boot up. I got expert advice, but the final verdict was ‘Buy a new laptop’. Thankfully all my essential files were backed up to the ‘cloud’, so letting go of the old laptop was no more than saying goodbye to a faithful friend. Here’s my point: I had used that laptop for ten years (which is probably why it suddenly expired!). Why not change it after three years, or five? My answer: because it kept on doing everything I needed. There was nothing of significance that a shiny, new laptop would have given me. Until it passed away, that old laptop was quite sufficient.

Recognising the sufficiency of almost everything we have, and not longing for more, brings contentment.

Change what you can, accept what you can’t

One of the world’s most famous prayers is commonly called the ‘Serenity Prayer’:

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
the courage to change the things I can,
and the wisdom to know the difference.[3]

All three parts of the prayer are difficult to do:

  • Accepting calmly what we can’t change
  • Acting boldly to bring about changes which are possible
  • Knowing whether acceptance or action is the right choice

Faced with an impossible situation, most of us survive through gritted teeth, hating the experience. Or, knowing something must change, we struggle to find the drive or determination to take on the challenge. Or, through indecision, we do nothing and feel miserable about our inactivity.

Inner peace belongs to those who overcome these challenges, whether that means living with an unpleasant truth or risking all to make things better for ourselves or others.

Recently I talked with a man who was diagnosed with cancer three years ago. It began in his vital organs but then spread to his brain. He went through major medical interventions. That was a hard experience, but those treatments have made a huge difference and his cancer has stopped spreading. But he knows it could restart. He is scanned every three months in case there are new growths. What impressed me is his attitude: “You learn to live with things as they are, while always still fighting the enemy you fear.” He has his dark days, but mostly he’s at peace. Brave man.

That’s a tranquillity not everyone finds. I feel for them. But the truth remains, that inner peace comes from changing what you can and accepting what you can’t.

I have four more principles for inner peace. I will describe them briefly.

Be right with the important people in your life
For many years my professional life took me all over the world. Sometimes I was in isolated locations, such as rural Bangladesh, the Congo jungle, or North Korea, places where I was out of touch with the rest of the world. But, in less-remote places, I’d buy postcards, sit up late at night writing them, and next day find somewhere to buy stamps and post them to each of my four children. Postcards don’t have space for significant news sharing, but at least my children knew I was thinking about them. I still do. And we continue to have a great relationship, for which I’m deeply grateful. They are a source of great peace and joy for me. Be right with those you love.

Accept your limits
One of my boyhood heroes was David Rollo, a Fife farmer. He had attended my school and later I watched him play international rugby for Scotland. The legendary radio and TV rugby commentator Bill McLaren remembered Rollo’s international debut in a match against England:

“That 1959 match, at which I shared the radio commentary was quite distinctive for the courage shown by the Fife farmer, David Rollo who was gaining his first cap out of the Howe of Fife club. Soon after the start David suffered a broken nose, but after a brief absence for repairs, he returned to play prop with undiminished fire. After that debut it hardly was surprising that David went on to gain 40 caps.“[4]

I wanted to play rugby for Scotland like Dave Rollo did. In the school team I played front row prop in the scrum, just like Rollo did. I tried to tackle like he did, pass the ball like he did, do everything on the rugby field like he did. Except I couldn’t. I didn’t have Rollo’s skill or fitness, and before I’d reached the ripe old age of 14 I realised I’d never be like Dave Rollo and never play rugby for Scotland. And I accepted that. I might do other significant things, but they wouldn’t be related to rugby.

Being at peace means recognising and accepting your limits.

Invest your life in things that matter

In an earlier blog post I described an experience during a two week stay in hospital.[5] The man in the next bed to mine had his own TV, and watched television soap operas all day. I couldn’t see his TV but I heard every word of those annoying dramas since my neighbour didn’t have earphones. When his wife visited each evening, their whole time was spent watching an evening soap episode together. This was clearly normal life for them. ‘Do they have nothing better to do with their lives?’ I wondered.

On the whole, inner peace is related to doing things that matter. Our lives have significance, so should be used in some way, perhaps only a small way, to make the world around us a better place. We won’t all be doctors, or aid workers, or civil rights activists, or campaigners for the poor. We don’t need to be. Margaret was well-educated and could have had a great career, but she poured her life into bringing up her four boys. It was the role she believed was uniquely hers. “People criticised me for that choice,” she said, “but I knew what I did for my boys would be important.” She was right. Two of her sons had world-wide influence through their leadership, speaking, and writing. The other two were never prominent people, but quietly did a great deal of good in their communities, helping and healing lives, as well as bringing up their own families to be good people.

Having peace flows from knowing your life has significance.

Be kind

I’m not sure if having inner peace causes people to act kindly, or if acting kindly creates inner peace. Probably both are true, and there’s a virtuous circle: being at peace leads to kindness which, in turn, generates an even greater sense of inner peace.

For about 15 months I worked in a local government office, and often dealt directly with the public. Many people were polite and reasonable. But not everyone. Right from their opening sentence, some were angry and hostile. The nasty customers often had weak arguments, and tried to compensate for that with shouts or threats. It seemed to me that’s how they were wired, their approach to everything, and I often thought, ‘I wonder what it’s like to be married to him or her?’ Not a happy experience, I concluded. These people were not at all at peace in their inner selves.

But I’ve also known folk who were wired with kindness, thoughtfulness, and graciousness. They wanted to help, to please, to make my life better. There was no drama, no seeking advantage, just a quiet desire to bless others. Out of a good heart, love flowed.

Jesus said: “every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit” (Matthew 7:17). In other words, what’s true about our inner lives is shown in our outer lives. Let kindness, peace and joy reign.

To finish, one final thought. Inner peace can’t be had instantaneously. It’s not as if people who have been troubled and angry for decades go to bed, and wake up next morning magically transformed into people who feel calm and peaceful about life.

Rather, I see it this way. There’s a road we travel through life. Along that road lies positive events and experiences which help us feel good. But along that road are also problems, conflicts, disappointments, and frustrations. More than anything else, what determines a troubled or peaceful inner self is how we respond to the challenges, the hard things strewn in our path. I urge you, whether your way is easy or hard, make the choices which bring you inner peace. You will never regret it.

[1] Hippo is now the modern city of Annaba, on the coast of Algeria, North Africa.

[2] The full reference to Augustine’s words: Lib 1,1-2,2.5,5: CSEL 33, 1-5. The Confessions were written around 400 AD.

[3] The prayer first appeared in print in the 1930s. Scholars debate its authorship. It has appeared in various forms, though always with the same main ideas.

[4] From https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_Rollo_(rugby_union) At the time of writing this blog post, Dave Rollo is 88.

[5] See: https://occasionallywise.com/2021/10/16/if-only-everyone-thought-like-me-things-would-be-much-better-no-they-wouldnt/

The green-eyed monster

What is prohibited in the Ten Commandments, included among the acts of the flesh in the New Testament, listed as one of the seven deadly sins, and described by Shakespeare as the green-eyed monster? *

The answer is envy.

It’s hard to imagine there’s anyone who hasn’t been envious. You might think it’s especially a failing in affluent societies, a temptation of people in suburbia who ‘want to keep up with the Joneses’. Whatever others have, they want it too. But envy also happens in the poorest of places. Someone has a better tea pot, or bicycle, or job, or a rich relative who sends them money, and others want these things too.

It’s an understandable sin. We all want our lives to be better, so we envy those who have things or connections or abilities which would improve our lives, if only we had them too.

Sometimes we justify our envy. ‘It’s not fair they have these things,’ we reason. ‘Why shouldn’t I have them as well?’

I studied Human Resources as part of my management degree. One paper described how staff reacted when the work was demanding but the pay poor. Interestingly, their research showed that employees would work for low wages providing everyone doing that work had the same low wage. But if some were paid more, those on less were seriously discontent. They wanted parity. They wanted what others were getting.

On the whole, though, few try to justify envy. Down the ages envy, and its close cousin jealousy, is considered wrong.

I’m going to set out three ways in which envy is harmful. I’ll finish by adding three rather different thoughts.

First, how envy harms lives.

Envy is a cruel master

I spent a lot of time trying to help Gwyn and Julie. People would think they were a great couple with two wonderful children. But they had a secret. They were lost in a maze of unpayable debts. They owed money to the bank and on five different credit cards, and when they’d maxed out on their limits, they’d borrowed from short-term lenders at astronomical interest rates. That wasn’t all. They’d bought from several catalogue companies, the kind where you pay small sums every week but the overall cost of goods is high. And they owed significant sums for unpaid utility services and local taxes.

I sat with them for hours, tried to list every outstanding amount, and, just when I thought we were done, Julie or Gwyn would remember another debt. They were deeply submerged in a financial swamp. Debt collectors phoned constantly and banged on their front door at all hours.

The couple seemed unable to think straight so, on their behalf, I began contacting credit card providers, banks and catalogue companies. Most of them were amenable to working out payment arrangements. I introduced them to a friendly bank manager, and we considered consolidating all their debts and structuring a payment plan.

But, just before any of those remedial arrangements went into effect, I saw Gwyn and Julie’s children playing on brand-new bicycles. How could they have those new bikes? I caught up with their parents, and asked for an explanation. ‘All their friends seemed to have new bicycles, and we couldn’t let our children not have them too,’ Julie said. I asked how they found money to buy them. Sheepishly she said, ‘We got them from a catalogue company we’d never used before’. More debt. Soon after Gwynn and Julie were made bankrupt. I lost touch but I believe their marriage fell apart a year or two later.

There are three hard truths from Gwynn and Julie’s story. First, the fundamental problem behind most of their debt? They saw what others had and they had to have it too. Second, their envy was uncontrolled. It got them into debt, and then more debt. Third, despite outward appearances, and despite all they bought, Gwyn and Julie were miserable. So miserable, it ended their relationship.

Envy is a cruel and destructive master.

Envy is insatiable

Envy doesn’t have limits. It’s inexhaustible. We may think, ‘If only I have this, then I’ll be satisfied.’ But we’re not. We will always see something better than what we have already, and we’ll want that too.

One of my favourite podcasts is ‘No Stupid Questions’. A recent episode had the title: Why Do We Want What We Can’t Have? ** The presenters included the story of a stone cutter who constantly wanted something better for his life.

A stone cutter is passing the house of a wealthy merchant and sees his expensive and fancy possessions, and his important visitors, and he says to himself ‘Wow, that merchant must be so powerful. It must be amazing to be like that.’

The next day he wakes up as the merchant. So he’s happy for a while. Then he sees a high-ranking, important government official being carried in a sedan by his servants. And he thinks ‘Woah! How powerful that official must be.’

The next day he becomes the official, and this trend continues and the guy becomes the sun, he becomes a big storm cloud, and he becomes the wind. Then he finds that the one thing he can’t move when he’s the wind is a massive rock so he grows envious of the rock.

And next day he’s the rock. One day he hears the sound of a hammer hitting his surface and he thinks ‘Wait a minute! Wait a minute – what could be more powerful than me, the rock? And he looks down and sees a stone cutter…

That story says it all. Envy is never satisfied. There’s always one thing more, then another and another, an unending lust for things better than those we have already. In the end it get us nowhere.

Envy is no judge of what really matters

I arrived in the car park of the golf club, and began getting my gear out of the car. I was getting ready to play in a pairs match – my partner and I against two golfers from another club. My partner arrived in his Jaguar. Then the first of our opponents drove into the car park in his Porsche. Minutes later our second opponent came in his Audi S5. I hadn’t come in any of these elite models of car. I came in my Nissan. For a moment I wished I had one of their cars. I wouldn’t have been fussy. Any of them would be fine. But I caught myself quickly, realising ‘I already have a good car. It does everything I want a car to do.’ What matters with a car is that it gets you from A to B with reasonable comfort, safety and reliability. My car does that. The brand name is not what’s important.

Envy doesn’t think like that. Envy casts greedy eyes over anything supposedly better or more desirable than what you have already, and says ‘You should have that’.

Envy doesn’t think of affordability, or climate impact, or even suitability. It considers only things like prestige, speed, and impressing others. They are not the things that really matter.

I’ll finish with three rather different points about envy. The first will seem surprising.

  • Sometimes envy pushes people to do the right thing

Envy is a bad driver, but occasionally points us in a good direction. I’ll give an example.

While I worked in America, my car was a Subaru. I’d never owned a Subaru or any 4 x 4 car before, but it was the right car to have for the snow and ice of a Chicago winter. I deeply appreciated that car’s road-holding ability when the temperature was minus 18F. But what I most enjoyed was its reversing camera. Put the car into reverse, and a rear-facing camera showed an image on the dashboard of whatever was behind. I loved showing that to friends. Some said, ‘Wow! I wish I had that feature on my car.’ That was envy. But a good envy, because reversing cameras don’t just prevent you reversing into a wall, they stop you running over the toddler who’s invisible to wing mirrors but standing right behind the car. My friends’ envy meant they’d insist on a rear-view camera when they next bought a car, which might save a life.

In that instance envy served a good purpose.

  • Envy is not inevitable. It’s a choice

Envy feels like it’s a reaction. Your neighbour builds a wonderful extension on their house, or takes their family on the vacation of a lifetime, or gets promotion at their work, or inherits a million from an aunt they never visited. And you react with ‘I want that too’ or ‘I wish that would happen to me’. It’s an instinct, the thought that inevitably comes to mind.

But envy is not inevitable. It happens so quickly and easily it feels automatic. We’ve become used to it, as if coveting what our neighbour has is a preset feature of our humanity.

But it isn’t a preset. Envy is a choice.

Envy is a choice just as greed or lust or anger is a choice. If someone puts a plate of Danish pastries in front of me, must I eat one? Or two? Or three? If I see a beautiful woman, must I imagine having sex with her? If someone is rude and insulting, must I punch them on the nose? We’d say there’s no must about any of these. We might fail, but it was never inevitable we’d fail. Nor is it inevitable we’ll fail with envy.

The hard truth is this: envy is a choice. We are not helpless beings, pushed around by irresistible instincts. We can make decisions, including a decision not to envy what others have.

  • To beat envy, turn the other way

You’ll have heard or read this: Happiness is not having everything you want, but wanting what you have. (It’s a saying attributed to many writers.) It’s rather simplistic. But what it points to is powerful: contentment.

For a time the Apostle Paul was held prisoner in Rome. From his prison he wrote letters, including the one to the church in Philippi. Given his circumstances these words are remarkable:

I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.  (Philippians 4:11-13)

Paul was beaten, thrown out of cities, deserted by friends, suffered poor health and, here, languished in prison. Yet, whatever his circumstances, he was content. But please notice that twice he says he has ‘learned’ to be content.

We’ve all learned things – how to use tools, how to speak a language, how to drive a car, how to grow plants, how to play chess, and many more. We didn’t know automatically how to do these things, but we learned. It took effort, time and commitment, but we got there.

The same is true with contentment. There aren’t ten easy steps to memorise and, suddenly, you’re now perfectly content. It’s choosing to be at peace with what you have, and choosing to resist the urge to chase what you don’t have. I’d never pretend that’s easy, but I know it’s possible.

And here’s an encouraging truth. If two things are in opposite directions, moving towards one takes you further from the other. Contentment and envy lie in opposite directions, so the more we walk towards contentment the further we are from envy. I can’t overcome envy by thinking constantly about things I envy, hoping that one day I’ll wake up not wanting those shiny new things others have. I overcome envy by focusing on the very many thing I have already that bring me contentment. I choose to be content, and let envy perish by neglect.

I urge you to do the same.

——————————-

*  The tenth of the Ten Commandments is: ‘You shall not covet your neighbour’s house. You shall not covet your neighbour’s wife, or his male or female servant, his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbour.’ (Exodus 20:17) 

The Apostle Paul, writing to the Galatians, says this: ‘The acts of the flesh are obvious: sexual immorality, impurity and debauchery; idolatry and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like.’  (Galatians 5:19-21)

Thomas Aquinas – the 13th century Italian philosopher and theologian – is considered to have defined the standard list of the seven deadly sins: pride, greed, wrath, envy, lust, gluttony and sloth.

Shakespeare used the term ‘green-eyed monster’ in Othello, Act 3, Scene 3:

“O beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meat it feeds on.”

**  No Stupid Questions Ep. 68 https://freakonomics.com/podcast/nsq-envy/

To be the best or the very best?

The wording I’d wish to deserve on my gravestone would be: ‘He fulfilled his potential’.

That’s because I’ve always wanted to be the best I can be: as a husband, father, grandfather; as a leader, a preacher, a writer, a student, a golfer. I’ll never be the best in the world, but I want to be the best I can be.

But is that all? Am I being honest? Or is there an unpleasant addition to my ‘be the best I can be’ philosophy? Perhaps the real version is: ‘I want to be the best I can be, and I’d like that to be better than others’. To be better than most fathers, most preachers, most golfers, most writers, and so on. Maybe I’m more competitive than I admit even to myself. Maybe I want to be the best.

If that is what I think – and I’m not sure – it would be naïve. Only in my dreams am I likely to be world leader in anything.

But, not just in dreams, don’t we all compete? Perhaps not to be the best of anyone anywhere, but better than others we know?

  • Haven’t there been times when households competed to be first in the street to own a TV, first with colour TV, first with a video recorder, first with satellite or cable TV?
  • Don’t parents talking at the school gate boast how early their youngster took her first steps, spoke her first words, or how far on she is now with reading?
  • Why are there queues at car dealerships to collect the latest model or show off the newest registration plate? And much longer queues at Apple stores when a new iPhone is launched?
  • Why do people want to wear the latest fashion, or feel embarrassed to appear in out-of-date clothes?

Do any of these things actually matter? For many, they do. People compete for prestige or prominence. And for some the competition to be better than anyone else crosses the line into cheating.

I saw cheating recently on the golf course, when a fellow player nudged his ball forward as he used a coin to mark its place on the green. When he replaced his ball it was closer to the hole. Other golfers have reputations of taking shoe leather shots (secretly kicking their ball out of the rough). Some blatantly miscount the shots they’ve taken, claiming to have hit six when they actually took eight.

That’s amateur stuff. Professionals take their cheating much more seriously.

It happens in sport. Every week a football player will pretend to have been tripped but slow motion replays show no-one touched them. Canadian sprinter Ben Johnson was stripped of his world record and gold medal at the 1988 Olympics after he tested positive for anabolic steroids. He was sent home in disgrace. Lance Armstrong won seven consecutive Tour de France bike racing titles between 1998 and 2005. During those years he furiously denied accusations of doping. But in 2012 the US Anti-Doping Agency concluded he’d used illegal drugs throughout his cycling career. At first Armstrong still denied the charges, but the following year publicly admitted the doping.

Plagiarism is such an issue for universities that almost all of them now use software that compares a student’s essay with millions of academic books and journals, and billions of web pages. One student I dealt with had inserted paragraphs of a prominent scholar’s work into his own essay, then claimed he had done so as a tribute to the noted scholar. Not much of a tribute when you make it seem like it’s your own work. There have been cases when politicians and even preachers have been discovered ‘lifting’ material from other authors and including them in their own book.

Some executives have falsified their qualifications to get a job. During the time I lived in Aberdeen the city’s Chief Executive was forced to resign. He had been using professional qualifications after his name, which implied membership of prominent engineering institutions, but was never entitled to do so. I know other cases where a résumé or CV has claimed qualifications which were never attained.

There are countless examples like these. Why do people do it?

The obvious answer in the professional world is because pushing yourself to the top makes you money. Considerable wealth or power can be at stake. Greed makes ethics inconvenient.

But the high levels of sport, politics or academia aren’t the worlds of the vast majority. So, why do ordinary people do almost anything to get ahead of others? What does it matter to have the latest iPhone? Or the best looking garden? Or the tallest child in the class? Or a better university degree than your colleague? And so on.

I see at least three possible reasons why being first matters so much.

Some have an excess sense of self-importance    The world must notice how great they are. I was invited to a gathering at a wealthy businessman’s home. This wasn’t any ordinary home. It was a mansion, a very large mansion. The over-sized double doors led into a tall, elegant entrance hall, beyond which was a wide central area. An open-plan kitchen, oozing granite work tops and high-end appliances was off to one side. The dining room was vast enough to hold the ornate 20-seater table with its Queen Anne legs and matching chairs. But that room’s elegance was outdone by the music room, again open-plan so everyone could see, with gold-coloured harp and Steinway grand piano prominently displayed. There was nothing homely about that house. You wouldn’t kick off your shoes and lounge around, because both your shoes and you would clutter this perfect place. But that home wasn’t designed to be comfortable; it was designed to impress. No-one that evening was to be in any doubt that someone very important lived there.

Most of us can’t match the wealth (or debt) of that house. But maybe we can rise to a super high-res TV, or a cruise to somewhere exotic, or buy a new and lovely car every three years. We’ll find our own way of making a statement: we’re doing well, we’re important, we’re people you should admire.

Of course, none of these trappings prove that. One of Alison’s relatives lived in south of England farming country, and, when Alison was visiting, she’d meet some of the wealthiest landowners in the country. They felt no need to impress. They drove beat-up old Land Rovers, wore unfashionable but practical boots and clothes, and bought their groceries from the local supermarket like everyone else. They were rich enough, important enough and confident enough not to need to flaunt anything.

Some have an underlying low self-esteem    Joe struggles to believe in himself, so tries to prove his worth by being better than others. If Joe can come first in the exam. If Joe can win the half marathon. If Joe can be on TV. If Joe can host important people for dinner. If Joe can get promotion. If Joe can date the girl all his mates wish they were dating. Then – with any of these ‘accomplishments’ – Joe will feel good about himself. Admiration, recognition, achievement above others; these things will elevate him from basement level self-esteem.

Successful people seem full of self-confidence. They’re the go-getters, people with a sure vision for their lives and the drive to take them to the top. But that’s far from universally true. Search the internet and you’ll find countless articles about successful people riddled with self-doubt. Here are just two examples:

  • The American author, John Steinbeck, wrote in his journal: ‘I’ve been fooling myself and other people.’ While writing his novel The Grapes of Wrath he said: ‘Sometimes, I seem to do a little good piece of work, but when it is done it slides into mediocrity.’ The Grapes of Wrath helped him win the Pulitzer Prize in 1962.
  • Vincent Van Gogh was a brilliant post-impressionist painter but constantly filled with self-doubt. But that doubt spurred him on to more painting. He said, ‘If you hear a voice within you say you cannot paint, then by all means paint and that voice will be silenced.’*

Self-doubt can kill creativity or performance, but it can also be fuel for achievement because being better than others is the ultimate proof you’re not the low-achiever you feel you are.

Some have few opportunities in one area of life, so strive to be best of all in other areas    My grandfather, John Taylor, was a significant person in east central Scotland. With a friend alongside, he was the first to swim the two mile wide estuary of a deep river with treacherous currents. He was a lay preacher and held senior office in his church, and worked with others to found a nation-wide Christian fellowship for men. He was made a Bailie in his town, meaning he was a civic officer (like a magistrate) in local government. He didn’t have vast authority, but only someone with integrity and held in high regard could be appointed. So, John Taylor was a noted figure in his community. But what work did he do day to day? He oversaw coal deliveries to local homes – totally honourable work, but far from spectacular.

Not everyone can have glamorous or high earning jobs. Life in offices, factories or fields tends to be much the same on Tuesday as it was on Monday, and will be again on Wednesday, and so on. But it motivates some to higher achievements in the rest of their lives. It makes them want to be the best of the best.

So, there are several reasons why people push themselves to be better than others. I have two responses to them.

One, striving to be the best you can be is entirely legitimate. I became an Advanced Driver and later an Advanced Motorcyclist, in each case passing a police-observed test of driving skills well beyond those needed for the government-run test. What motivated me to train and do those tests? It began with a stupid accident. My car was behind another car waiting to turn right. As traffic cleared the one in front moved off. I followed, accelerating through the junction. But the car just ahead of me braked sharply when a pedestrian stepped into the road. I was accelerating from behind, and I crashed into the rear of the car. My speed was still low – no-one was hurt – and the damage was only what my American friends would call a ‘fender bender’. But the accident was clearly my fault. I should have been paying more attention to what was ahead, and keeping further back from the vehicle in front. I was so annoyed with myself I signed up for training as an advanced driver, passed the test, and I’ve never had an accident since. I really wanted to become the best driver I could be.

Being the best you can be in (almost) anything is a good and legitimate ambition. It’s a positive goal that benefits the individual and those around.

But when that healthy ambition turns into an unhealthy competitive desire to be better than anyone else, the problems range from pride through cheating to illegality. The fault is not the desire to be the best you can be, but the desire to be better than everyone else no matter the price. Others get hurt as you push past them. And, since it’s likely you won’t become a world-beater, you’ll feel a failure.

Two, the better goal in life is contentment with who you are, what you have, and what you can do. That’s neither laziness nor complacency. It is about being okay with the person you’ve become and what’s around you, not resenting that you don’t have more or that others do have more.

The Apostle Paul wrote this:

‘I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength.’ (Philippians 4:11-13 – NIV)

Paul wasn’t exaggerating about life being hard as well as good. He was opposed in his missionary work, on one occasion beaten and left for dead. He made hazardous journeys around the Mediterranean not knowing where his next meal would come from or where he could spend the night. Companions were not always loyal. There was nothing easy about his life. But he found contentment. He wasn’t driven by greed, or a desire to look important, or a need to be better than others. He was at peace, grateful for what he had. Is that easy? No, certainly not. But Paul found it was possible in God’s strength.

That’s possible for us too. I feel sorry for those who try to make themselves look important. I’m angry with those who cheat in order to come first.

Why do people strive to impress? I’ve listed reasons, but, whatever their motivation, I don’t think those people are happy. Why do people cheat in order to win? They also have reasons, but I can’t understand how they can take pride in achievements they know they didn’t deserve. They can’t be content.

Be the best you can be. That’s a great goal. And then be content. If you can do that, you’ll be happier than all those who used up their years desperately trying to be better than everyone else.

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*These examples from https://www.entrepreneur.com/slideshow/304340

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