If you go into a car dealership, the salesperson will likely ask you some questions in hopes of steering you in the right direction. How will you use the vehicle? Will it be a family car or something for your personal commute? Will you use it for driving vacations or primarily for errands around town? Do you need something in which you can chauffeur clients or shuttle kids back and forth? Will you ever be pulling something—like a trailer or boat—or hauling cargo? If they can get sense of your “why”, they are hoping they can direct you to a vehicle that will serve your purpose and they can hopefully get a sale.
If my wife goes to a clothing store looking for a new outfit, again they will try to discover her why. Will this be for a special occasion or everyday use? Does she want to wear it year-round or is it strictly seasonal? Does she want something dressy or more casual? Is she trying to co-ordinate with something she already has or is there a color palette they need to keep in mind? Again—if they can extract her why, they can point her in the right direction and perhaps get her to spend her money in their store
If you’re working with a financial planner, you will undoubtedly get the same type of questions. Is your primary goal growth or stability? Are you by nature more risky or more conservative? Are you looking primarily to generate income or minimize tax responsibility? Are you trying to fund your retirement or college education for your kids—i.e., how soon do you see yourself needing the funds? The answers to these questions will uncover your purpose so he or she can steer you toward investments that will best serve your needs.
Similarly, each of us lives our life according to an overarching “why”. Whether it’s by design or default, there’s a fundamental “why” lodged deep within us that shapes why we do what we do. Some motive, objective, or ambition brings structure, definition, and intentionality to our lives. And what’s more, we determine our “why”. We choose the organizing principle … the central purpose … the axis on which our life will turn.
In the previous four posts, I’ve been looking at the story of David & Goliath. I made the point this is not simply the narrative of an underdog scoring a major upset for the good guys. It’s not the biblical equivalent of the United States beating the Soviet Union in ice hockey at the 1980 Winter Olympics in Lake Placid. This is the highly instructive account of a young man who defied the odds and confronted challenges when those around wilted … who dared to step forward when others were stepping back. And from this account, we can gain hints as to how we can tackle the giants in our lives—those things that intimidate and unnerve us ... those things that tempt us to cower in fear rather than draw us forward and extract the best out of us.
We’ve been systematically working our way through the story, but in this post we get to the actual event—the battle itself.
David said to the Philistine, “You come against me with sword and spear and javelin, but I come against you in the name of the Lord Almighty, the God of the armies of Israel, whom you have defied. This day the Lord will deliver you into my hands, and I’ll strike you down and cut off your head. This very day I will give the carcasses of the Philistine army to the birds and the wild animals, and the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel. All those gathered here will know that it is not by sword or spear that the Lord saves; for the battle is the Lord’s, and he will give all of you into our hands.”
As the Philistine moved closer to attack him, David ran quickly toward the battle line to meet him. Reaching into his bag and taking out a stone, he slung it and struck the Philistine on the forehead. The stone sank into his forehead, and he fell facedown on the ground. So David triumphed over the Philistine with a sling and a stone; without a sword in his hand he struck down the Philistine and killed him.
David ran and stood over him. He took hold of the Philistine’s sword and drew it from the sheath. After he killed him, he cut off his head with the sword.
When the Philistines saw that their hero was dead, they turned and ran. Then the men of Israel and Judah surged forward with a shout and pursued the Philistines to the entrance of Gath and to the gates of Ekron. Their dead were strewn along the Shaaraim road to Gath and Ekron. (1 Samuel 17:45-52).
It’s a pretty violent account, but one thing is clear. David didn’t go to battle simply to defeat a giant. He went with a higher purpose: A loftier objective was providing incentive and motivation. Notice how often he touches on this ... “I come against you in name of Lord” ... “the Lord will hand you over” ... “the whole world will know that there is a God in Israel” ... “it is not by sword or spear that the Lord saves” ... “the battle is the Lord’s”. David is clearly motivated by a desire to see God’s reputation restored from the beating it took at the hands of Goliath—to see Him exalted and honored. That ambition is fueling him. That aspiration is propelling him. That purpose is a big part of what’s driving him.
Given the inclination many people have to shy away from and avoid conflict, quite often it’s the fact we’re living for a higher purpose that causes us to do that which our natural instinct tells us not to do. For many of us, we won’t handle a giant unless we’ve got a compelling reason to do so—i.e., a higher purpose. Only when we’ve got something to die for are we willing to risk our life, accept the challenge, and tackle a giant. If we’re living for ourselves, we’ll play it safe—we’ll protect and preserve until we’re blue in the face. It’s the presence of a higher purpose—an all-absorbing ‘why’ that motivates us to risk—that compels us to take a chance and dare to attempt that which is difficult, challenging, or demanding.
Think of the apostle Paul. He was a man of incredible drive and initiative. You look at his life and are amazed—the opposition he endured … the setbacks and difficulties he encountered—not to mention the strikes against him he had to continually deal with by virtue of his years as persecutor of church. What motivated him? A higher purpose. He talks about it in his letter to the Philippians:
One thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. (Philippians 3:13b-14)
The gist of what Paul’s saying is that my ultimate aspiration is not found in this life. Something bigger than life is inspiring me and spurring me on. There’s a higher purpose that drives me.
And think of Jesus: At the peak of his ministry; his popularity was soaring. But with the Passover season approaching, he faced a decision: Do I go to Jerusalem and risk his long-standing feud with the religious elite might come to a head? Or does he stay in Galilee and play it safe? His answer:
As the time approached for him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem. (Luke 9:51)
Jesus was living for a higher purpose. Something within him motivated him to accept the risks a trip to Jerusalem would entail. He did what was hazardous and personally difficult because something inside held greater value than his personal safety. He lived according to standards that carried more weight than his own sense of security. There was something more important in life than his personal well-being.
There’s something very instructive in that which has caused me to reach this conclusion: You haven’t really lived until there’s something you’re willing to die for. As long as you live for yourself or your personal well-being—as long as seek to operate exclusively in a world that’s defined by what’s best for me and mine—life’s going to be pretty shallow and unfulfilling. It’s when you live for something greater than yourself—when you wholeheartedly embrace something that is transcendent and beyond your own personal interests—that life takes on a level of depth that makes it full of meaning and unbelievably satisfying.
Abraham Maslow is an academic who taught for a number of years at Columbia University and is commonly known as the father of modern American psychology. When I went through training as an adjunct professor at SNU, I was introduced to a theory called Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. What he did was categorize the various needs we have as humans and then lump them into categories and then classify them as to which provide greatest sense of satisfaction and fulfillment. He began with the most basic needs—physical needs—i.e., air, water, food, shelter, etc., and then moved all the way up to the highest need which he termed self-actualization—the desire to become the best expression of ourselves we can be. Their point was the students who were going back to school to complete their degree were likely motivated by this highest need on Maslow’s hierarchy.
However, in the last years of his life, Maslow actually revised his theory and acknowledged there was a higher need that should be included … one greater than self-actualization … one he labeled “self-transcendence”—living for a purpose higher than yourself … leaving a legacy ... making a contribution that lasts beyond your time on this planet.
How many people do we know who are merely living for themselves … who are assessing the value of everything in life on how it affects them personally … who are pre-occupied with their well-being and constantly frustrated by the fact the world doesn’t always kowtow to them? My sense is it’s only when we’re living for a higher purpose that we’ll have the determination, stamina, and tenacity to engage a giant. Only when we’re operating in service of a heavenly cause will we have the backbone, spirit, and endurance to aggressively take on those things that frighten, threaten, and intimidate us. For the most part, our approach to the giant is determined by the value of the purpose that orients our life. If we’re living for a higher purpose, we’ll tackle the giant. We’ll take a risk and go to war because of the value of what’s at stake. But if we’re living for ourselves, we’ll take the path of least resistance, shy away from conflict, and hope somebody else with a higher purpose comes along so we can jump on their bandwagon.
This is borne out by an interesting element of this story that is often overlooked. Notice that when David succeeded and Goliath fell, the army surged forward and pursued the Philistines. These are the same guys who, for the last forty days, had been running and hiding in tents when Goliath came out and taunted them. It was as if they were waiting for someone to rally them—to awaken them and kindle in their hearts a sense of the possibilities. But the moment it happened they rose up and went to a new level. But it all started with the higher purpose David had—a higher purpose that motivated him to accept the challenge and confront the giant.
So—what is the purpose of your life? What is the “overarching why” that gives cohesion, significance, and meaning to your life?
A number of years ago, I read a book entitled “Half Time” written by Bob Buford—a Christian businessman who did quite well in the cable TV industry. The premise of the book is that our adult lives have two chapters: Our early adult years are about earning and moving up the ladder of success. But at some point we realize the emptiness of that journey and make a mental transition to where we want our lives to be more about significance than success. We want to do something meaningful and worthwhile with our lives. But whether that will happen, Buford says, depends on what happens during what he calls “halftime”. Just as a football or basketball team goes into the locker room and makes adjustments based upon how the first half of the game went, so we need to do the same as it relates to the purpose and objective of our lives.
The book was birthed out of a meeting he had with a strategic planning consultant named Mike Kami. Buford was at a place in his life and career where he wanted someone who could help him assess his life, evaluate what was important, and map out a strategy for moving forward. He enjoyed his work, but he wanted to do more. There was a sense something was missing. His life was a jumble of dreams and desires, and he wanted some help in sorting through it all and arriving at a strategic plan.
In their very first session, after some get-to-know-you pleasantries and small talk, Kami looked Buford squarely in the eye and asked him a question: “What’s in the box?” Puzzled and confused, he went on to explain that every person has a mainspring … a primary allegiance … a fundamental loyalty around which they organize and orient their life. We all have a “box” we use to systematize and arrange our life, and only one thing can go in there. “Bob, once you tell me what’s in your box, I can help. But until you do, you’ll equivocate, vacillate, and be confused.”
I had never heard the question asked so pointedly, but it bears repeating: “What’s in your box?” Is it money? Career? Family? Freedom? Your personal well-being? Jesus and His Kingdom? The reason I ask—Jesus said something very profound about how we are made to function as humans:
Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. (Matthew 6:33)
In other words, put me and what I’m up to on this planet in your box, and you’ll experience more than you ever imagined and everything you ever dreamed life could provide.
I just wonder if some of us have placed Jesus in our box at some time in the past but tried to shove something else in there next to Him and found out how inadequate that approach is. We’ve come up against a giant and discovered the “shared box approach” doesn’t generate the support we need when it comes to dealing with a giant. The promise of God is when we place Jesus in our box and make Him our one thing, we’ll not only find something that will help us confront our giants, but we’ll experience a relationship that fills us with more than we ever dreamed possible.