How we define success
“Celebrating success” was the tag line with which Thorns School and Community College (home of my secondary education back in the 1990’s) proudly branded itself. Indeed, back then the school was undoubtedly prospering with excellent Ofsted ratings and exam performances that had not only propelled it well above the national average but also earned it moments of stardom on national morning television. Thorns School had become ‘a success’!
So, what does constitute success? Dictionaries define this as “the accomplishment of an aim or purpose” and thus there are many forms that success can take: some qualify the completion of a marathon as success, for others success lies in achieving promotions and increased executive responsibility at work, for others still it equates to the acquisition of notable material wealth. My own interpretations of success are often no different. I certainly see the desire to improve one’s performance and the willingness to use one’s talents to offer people the very best you can as highly commendable. But personal experiences also point out to me that a passionate yearning for success can, just sometimes, reflect a deeper condition of the heart that needs to be recognised.
From as early as I can recall I’ve felt a burning intolerance to finishing second, or worse. At five years old I was mortified when my teacher Mrs Hughes selected other children instead to step forward and display their red creative story books in ‘good work assembly’. This intolerance only grew stronger as I progressed through school. When sports day arrived I had to win (not finish second behind Sarah Baker in the sack race), my primary school projects had to be the best presented and, as I grew accustomed to the reality of exams throughout school, college and university, I became desperate to outshine all others who formed the ‘opposition’ standing between me and where I wanted to be. Forget stereotypical teenage aspirations and pursuits (playing football being the noted exception) – all this kid wanted was to climb to the top of that academic tree and to proudly stay aloft there. Furthermore, I couldn’t care less about what it might take to achieve the ambition, nor the prospect of continual devotion to studying – it would all be worthwhile. Academic success had seduced me and had become my biggest idol. Revision, learning and practice together formed a relentless act of worship of an idol which promised that life, if I could prove successful, would be good.
This craving for success established a form of normality for me that was based upon competing – against anybody who had the opportunity to steal the prize I was so desperate to obtain. But this yearning can also pit us against ourselves. Nowadays I enjoy outdoor road running where time is spurring me on to produce better performances. I’ve now replaced those revision notes with a pair of Asics trainers and the study room has now morphed into the well-trodden 5 km circuit around Abingdon, but while the setting has changed the theme of the story is unaltered. I have targets I must achieve, an adversary in the form of a ticking watch that grins as I strain every muscle to cover the ground faster and there is an irresistible promise of the reward lying in wait should I reach 5 kilometres before N minutes have elapsed.
But, is there anything wrong in us setting ourselves targets and then pursuing them? I think that the answer lies partly in why we’ve decided to set those targets …
When does success become an idol?
I have immense respect for people who set themselves very high standards and are disciplined to work hard at achieving them. I’d certainly argue that a desire to get X% in one’s degree and an ambition to run 5 km in under N minutes can be completely honourable pursuits. But why did I chase these targets with such ferocity?
In all honesty I know that I never set out to achieve X and N as a means of ‘bettering myself’. I hunted these targets incessantly because I believed they would lead me to an esteemed position where I could expect the praise, recognition and admiration of others. In truth I’ve always wanted others to recognise my achievement, after all, where’s the satisfaction in merely impressing myself? The good news of course is that even though an honest pursuit of success can often, for me, spiral into an unhealthier obsession, the fact that I am aware of this is progress. If anyone had tried pointing out to me when I was growing up that life offers so much more than success then I’d have shrugged my shoulders and carried on regardless, completely ignorant. The success idol’s power is that it promises to put you on a throne, and that can be irresistible for some of us.
Is this masking something deeper?
People idolise success for a variety of reasons. For some, it forms a pathway to increased power and influence over others. The attainment of success can provide magical moments of personal glory and satisfaction which many strive for. Perhaps most notably, some of us rely on success as the solution to our own insecurity and lack of self-esteem. We believe that achievement will secure the acceptance and admiration of those around us which in turn will elevate the view we have of ourselves. If any of this is resonating then it is perhaps worth asking yourself why becoming successful is at the core of your aspirations.
Danger signs
The idolatry of success can, if unchecked, batter us. We can pursue its gold-tinged promises relentlessly. In many cases, the disillusionment that comes with failure can be soul-destroying. Why? Because failure has apparently robbed us of what would surely have secured our happiness. If we’re fortunate we may sometimes accomplish those goals which, from personal experience, can generate a buzz like nothing else. But this ‘high’ never ever lasts. Success, just as with gambling, drug abuse and alcoholism, can become addictive and no sooner have the months (if not years) of effort been rewarded with the desired grades, 5 km time or promotion that you craved for all along, you are almost immediately left clamouring for fresh challenges with fresh promises of grandeur at the end of it. And so the cycle continues. Eventually though, we burn out. The effort required to keep up such an intense hunt is simply not sustainable.
This form of idolatry can have relational side effects too. From experience I know it can cause us to shun others because our drive is solely focused on the success of an assignment which becomes the supreme object of desire. Worse still, it can cause us to miss categorise friends as rivals. Instead of enjoying friendships we can become hardened to people through those surges of competitiveness that ripple through the soul. This idol therefore threatens our human relationships.
The Truth
Crucially though, this particular idol blinds us from the truth that when we turn to Christ we become the ultimate success story. And this is not through any accomplishment of our own. When the hunt for success had finally taken its toll on me a few years ago, I received a Word of encouragement that contained the following, “Your success is in God”. In other words, no matter how hard I may try to win the accolades of others, I’ve already been installed as a success in God’s sight through the death and resurrection of His Son, Jesus, and my acceptance that this sacrifice has paid the massive price for my sins. All of my other efforts to be successful are futile in the grand scheme: at best, they will only ever provide me with artificial fleeting moments of satisfaction.
Faith in Jesus secures our eternal destiny. The Bible also teaches us that this faith will impact our worldly lives too. Despite suffering significant cruelty and subsequent slavery at the hands of his own brothers, Joseph’s faith in God remained strong. Throughout Joseph’s service to Potiphar (one of the King’s officers in Egypt) we learn that “he became successful in everything he did”. Joseph didn’t flourish in Egypt because he had an egotistical ambition to rule or because he acted out of an inflated sense of his own self-importance. He flourished because he trusted that his success depended on God alone.
That period a few years ago indeed taught me something. Yet even now, as I gear myself up to write this final sentence, I’m fully aware that recounting and living by this truth is continually challenged. It is challenged by an idol that tempts through insisting that the next achievement lying in wait will somehow make all things right. Nevertheless, rest assured that the joy and peace of knowing deep down that God accepts you will utterly eclipse any form of success derived from this world.
Ben Cox