I’ve had a big o’l thorn in my side for a long time. I haven’t really told anyone about it either.
When I was young, I played an online game where you could form nations and wage war against others. These nations had incredibly sophisticated power structures where those at the top planned activities, alliances and battles with other nations, and built bases and cities. Those at the bottom “worked” for those at the top, and they had opportunities to move up the ranks through showing loyalty and actively participating. Because this game had a programming system that allowed anyone to create worlds where you could live in these virtual realities, it was very immersive. I’m going to pretend this online world was actually real—mostly for dramatic effect, although it also will feel more relevant to you this way.
I drew in a deep breath at Patria’s Council Roundtable. Our most important leaders surrounded it, silence bound their mouths shut, and they awaited my report.
Sweat dripped off of me—everywhere. I gripped my red armband with its Phoenix Insignia. Patria’s honor was on me. I would not fail it. Ever.
“Sirs. We have a traitor in our midst,” I said.
Power games were easy. First, you made your way up through hard work. Earnest work. Not the stuff people do when they want to brown-nose and get quick results. I cared about our nation, even if it was totally fake and pointless. It mattered in my childish mind. Second, you gained trust. That trust came from others seeing what you did. They respect it, and I still believe that to be a good thing. Third—here’s the mistake—you exploit that trust. You take the reputation you’ve earned, and you use it for any and every gain you wanted.
I was somewhere between steps two and three.
My fist hit the table, and the chamber rattled. Torches dimly lit the great meeting hall which spanned a long ways length-wise, and those torches rattled too.
“For many years, Colonel Urwin has served our court. He’s been active in his duties, more eager than all to grow Patria, devoted in his crafts, and above his peers. I was his greatest supporter in his path here. Today, I do not call into question any of his accomplishments, rather, I indict his loyalty.” I stared at him. His eyes were once pure and pearly blue. Now they barely looked brighter than a pool of black tar. “He is the chief conspirator in the recent efforts to undermine the Commander.”
Colonel Urwin was all the things I said. Dedicated. Charismatic. Useful. He had kept himself pristine—his body was trained hard, his gold-crested phoenix helmet sat on his head like a medal of his fealty, and his bronze skin had been forged in the many wars he had fought for us. Truly a man’s man, but he was a traitor too.
“You vile liar,” he seethed. “Just like you say, Patria would be gone without me here. Maybe you should reassess your importance to our nation, maybe some jealousy has gotten to you?”
I smirked. What he didn’t realize is that every one of our twenty leaders gazed at him, most shaking their heads or sighing in disappointment.
Our Commander stood and turned to me. He slid a file from his coat and slapped it on the roundtable. Documents including pictures of Urwin with key enemies spilled out. “Good work, General. Just as you said, he would deny his involvement in the coup, even with so much evidence.” For years, Urwin desired our Commander’s position. He thought the Commander was weak and inept in his job. Perhaps he was right. It didn’t matter to me, though.
Because, just like that, I had won. This was a moment in my “career” when I had overcome my opponents for the sake of what I wanted. Status. Power. Reputation. None of what I said was untrue. Sometimes, though, the facts bent to your will.
…
I remember another moment when I first went off to college. I had been excited to finally begin meeting new people after spending almost my entire life at home. However, when I did, my social anxiety hit me. Like, it rammed me like an 18-wheeler. It was awful.
At the first event I went to at my current campus ministry, I rolled up on the scene stiffer than a broomstick. I waded through the crowd of hundreds and nestled into a corner with a few others. (Names, identities, and appearances slightly altered for privacy.)
“So, yeah, what kind of music do you like?” A talkative dude with cool-looking black hair and shoes said. Too cool for me, for sure.
The other guy with shimmering, swaying blond hair perked up and they had a nice chat.
“Yeah, he’s a crazy rapper, don’t you think? His lyricism is incredible, and his entire catalog is stacked. What songs are your favorite?”
They kept going. Ah, I knew rappers, but only Christian rappers. Breaking into this conversation was gonna be super, mega, huge levels of impossible.
The cool dude turned to me. “How about you, what kind of music do you like?”
Or not.
That began one of the first friendships I made at my university, and it changed me. I realized that people weren’t that bad after all, and from thereon I decided I wanted to love others the way God wanted me to. My journey to humility and selflessness began.
Or so I thought.
In reality, my journey to clout chasing and arrogance began. I wanted more. The next friendship with a more important person was on my mind. Becoming more personable became one of my dearest goals. Social status certainly wasn’t my only reason for interacting with others, but, I am ashamed to admit, it took a bigger role than it should have. My sin nature corrupted an innocent desire to love others faster than I could say “love,” and, suddenly, I needed more.
…
Right. Back to my first statement. I’ve had a teensy tiny problem for a hot minute.
For a few reasons, the weight of the world always presses down hard on me. It’s like a giant grips my shoulders from the moment I wake up till the time I go to bed. Some nights, the insane pressure keeps me up. I think about what it is I need to do next, how I can get more, and what the next ten years will look like. You know, the things average people have on their mind right before bed. The constant pursuit of more is my worst enemy, it’s my problem.
Somehow, it’s so easy to become consumed with what comes next that you fail to see the moment right in front of you. That’s been me. A dark veil blackened everything ahead, so my curiosity told me to reach beyond it. I could have looked behind me to see the beauty of friends like arrayed flowers, the green landscapes of opportunity, and the blessings of today shining like the sun. Instead, I crushed Colonel Urwin for more power and disregarded others for more status.
Be careful about finding meaningfulness in shiny things. When you grab a hold of the new thing, it’s only natural to want another new thing. It’s even easier to become a slave to this cycle. One day, you’re excited for the next, then suddenly, for a lifetime, you’re chasing the next. Becoming stuck in that cycle is futile because humans aren’t meant for things. Instead, we find our purpose and meaningfulness in God. Love Him, and love others.
Yes, I’d love to talk about that. Don’t you get enough of talking about meaningless, mumbling garbage on the Internet and the bile in the news cycle? Consider this instead: what happens now is important.
I want to move past a wild lust for tomorrow. I think my most depressive moments and most regretful memories were when I missed out on something I could have done in the present. I rarely lament my lack of planning or foresight, rather, I lament my planning and foresight when I could have been acting and living. I have been anxious and controlling, and that in itself made me lose control, lose focus, and lose meaning.
I want to enjoy my hobbies, now.
Grow spiritually, now.
Love my friends, now.
This won’t ever happen when pining for more reputation and pleasure is the only thing on your agenda. (Couldn’t be me, right?) Therefore, my admonishment for today is exactly that: today. Be a person of today. Do something today. Remember, today will soon be gone.
Awhile ago, I sat in my bed every day paralyzed with indecision. I was scared of living without a purpose. I didn’t want to be in a world where other people didn’t matter and my passions were empty. It was debilitating, so I laid on my bed, cold and still. I shuddered at every thought. Guess what? I made it past that because God has a purpose for you and I, now.
These posts aren’t over after you read them. Once you’ve acted on this article, you’re finished. Here’s what I recommend:
Compliment someone, now. This is a call to start doing something that might be uncomfortable yet good for you and others. It doesn’t really matter who you complement. I don’t care if it’s midnight and you would feel weird sending a text. It’s midnight here, and I fired off a compliment a second ago. Join me in this, now!
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