When you take a trip, are you a stop-and-smell-the-flowers
type, or more like the gotta-get-there, the-sooner-the-better traveler? I’m
more the latter. We have a destination, I mentally calculate how long it should
take to get there, and we’re on our way. Detours along the route are annoying.
If we start the trip with specific stops factored into the itinerary, I’m okay
with that. But when trip interruptions are impromptu, I might stop, but I’ll do
it grudgingly.
To my detriment, I suppose, it’s all about the destination.
Recently I was reading about another type of destination
fixation. The article actually called it “destination addiction,” and involves ephemeral
concepts like happiness, or success. It’s “the idea that happiness is in the
next place, the next job, or even the next partner. Until you give up the idea
that happiness is somewhere else, it will never be where you are.”
Have you ever known someone like that? Have you been someone like that? Are you
someone like that now?
I recall seeing a sign years ago that offered simple
directions: “You can’t get there from here. You have to go someplace else
first.” Too often many of us approach life that way. We’re not happy where we
are, so we surmise it’s because happiness just happens to live somewhere else.
Maybe it was here for a while, but then it moved. So our solution is to embark
on an exhaustive search to find it.
If we don’t leap for joy when it’s time to get up and go to
work, instead of trying to determine how to become a better employee, we decide
the answer’s in finding a better job. If we’re not enjoying our home the way we
once did, we figure there’s no alternative but to move somewhere else. And if
our marriage seems to lack the spark it once had, we conclude the answer is to
find happiness in someone else. You can’t get there from here, right?
Sadly, the quest for things like happiness and success are
like the mirage in the desert. It appears off in the distance, but when you get
to where you thought it was, it’s not there.
Repeatedly the Bible speaks to this widespread desire for
something else, something better to satisfy our deepest yearnings. It was
directly addressed in the Ten Commandments: “You
shall not covet your neighbor’s house. You shall not covet your neighbor’s
wife…his ox or donkey, or anything that belongs to your neighbor” (Exodus
20:17). God wasn’t intending to be a divine spoilsport; He just understood that
no matter where we are or what we have, our sinful nature is to prefer what
someone else possesses.
Jesus told a parable about a rich man whose crops were so
abundant he lacked space for storing them. So he decided the solution would be
to replace his existing barns with bigger ones. Then he’d have plenty of room,
no matter how much he could amass. “And
I’ll say to myself, ‘You have plenty of good things laid up for many years.
Take life easy; eat, drink and be merry.’ But God said to him, ‘You fool! This
very night your life will be demanded from you. Then who will get what you have
prepared for yourself?’” (Luke 12:13-21).
Contrast that with the apostle Paul, who had one destination
in mind and one only. He wrote, “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” (Philippians 4:11-12).
Those of us living in the 21st century, in which
contentment is regarded almost as a sin while we’re tugged constantly to pursue
more or better or different, Paul’s words seem shocking. But it goes back to certainty
about his singular destination, one that didn’t waver according to his mood or
feelings at a particular moment: “I press
on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in
Christ Jesus” (Philippians 3:14).
We’re all enticed by the “greener grass,” the notion that if
we can just get from where we are to what appears more appealing over there,
then we will be happy. Then, for sure, we will find love, achieve success, or experience
fulfillment.
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