Mind the Gap

In a famous parable, George Bailey dreams of what his life is going to be. When it turns out quite differently than he thought, he thinks he’s a failure. Only by learning to see his life for what it is rather than what it is not, does he realize he’s had a Wonderful Life. 

It would be nice if this was everyone’s experience, but it obviously isn’t. Most men, as Thoreau said, lead lives of quiet desperation. We spend much of our childhood dreaming of what our lives will become. At some point, we wake up to the realization that the lives we inhabit are not what we thought or hoped they would be. Whatever time we have left is spent dealing with this gap between the life we have and the life we want.

This is a constant, no matter how privileged or fortunate one’s life is. If one is in slavery, abject poverty, or chronic illness, there is a desperate need to rise above to a place of normalcy. If one is blessed to not have these struggles, they are replaced with other ones: psychological, relational, spiritual problems, just as monumental in their own way. Even the one percent of the one percent – the Paris Hiltons and Jim Carreys of the world – are almost inevitably overwhelmed by the circumstances and pressures of their lives. They, too, desire to return to normalcy. But the place we think of as normal is not only not normal, it’s nonexistent. The human experience is a constant deluge of struggle and pain. There are reprieves, but these are the exceptions rather than the rule. Man is born for trouble as surely as sparks fly upward.*

Those of us who are privileged can feel guilty for complaining about existential crises when there are others in the world who don’t know when (or if) their next meal will arrive. For most of human history, our primary focus was survival. We were poorly equipped, underfed, and facing a hostile world trying to kill us. Not to suggest that this was an ideal situation, but it did provide a welcome distraction, a buffer against the philosophical problem. Once these concerns are no longer concerns, we find ourselves smack up against the Abyss. It’s little wonder that the richest, most powerful man in the world wrote Ecclesiastes. 

All of this to say, pain is not a contest. Just because one person faces racial injustice or another battles cancer doesn’t mean Paris Hilton has no reason to complain. We all struggle – we all live in the gap between the life we want and the life we have. 

I’ve spent a fair amount of time complaining about my life. I focus on the negatives and fail to see the blessings. I would rather rage against the moments than enjoy them. I’m angry and sad all the time. There are many reasons for this and I’m not going to say that a different perspective is the magic bullet to turn everything around. But I have to think part of my chronic dissatisfaction stems from a fixation on the life I want, the life I don’t have, the greener grass. 

It’s a good motivator; painting a positive and negative vision of the future can be one of the most powerful tools for developing good habits and avoiding bad ones. It’s a guide directing me to become the person I know I should be. But sometimes this vision of what my life could be blocks my view of the life I have – the magic and beauty right in front of me and all around me. There is grace in the blessings and grace in those blessings disguised as curses. This is my prayer for myself and all of us: that we would not have a Pollyanna optimistic oblivion on the one hand, or endless desire and dissatisfaction on the other. But that in light of the gap, we will do both of these things: strive forward, while also seeing the wonderful life we have, and living it in profound gratitude and wonder.

J. 

*Job 5:7

Feb. 28, 2023