"‘Look at the birds of the air,’ Jesus said to the crowds gathered around him (Matt. 6:26). I’ve been looking at the birds lately, and it strikes me that today our lives are more akin to the frantic scurrying of rats and the
disciplined marching of ants than to the contented and joyous singing of birds. In some regards, we humans are more like rats and ants than like birds.
"But there’s more to today’s dearth of contentment and joy than just the elements of human nature. Cultures of postindustrial societies encourage and reward scurrying and marching more than they do rejoicing. They reach into
what seems like the most intimate regions of our hearts, and by affecting our desires and our sense of responsibility, they disturb the peace of contentment and suppress the buoyancy of joy. …’The eye is not satisfied with seeing, or the ear filled with hearing,’ writes the author of Ecclesiastes (1:7–8), describing the ancient experience of insatiability.
"We are finite,
but our desire is infinite, limited, it seems, mainly by our need for rest. Insatiability is a human condition—but one that the modern market economy magnifies. According to Kenneth Galbraith, the modern market doesn’t so much respond to existing needs by supplying goods, but rather 'creates the wants the goods are presumed to satisfy.'
"Desire, hunger, and
dissatisfaction are the market economy’s fuel. The more fuel it has, the faster it can run, and so it creates the void it seeks to fill. The result is a rushing stream of both amazing and not-so-amazing goods and services—along with a perpetual lack of contentment and diminished capacity for joy. The relation between joy and contentment at any given moment is straightforward: the less content you are, the less joy you will have (though discontentment often precedes joy). Joy celebrates the
goodness of what is, what was, or is to come; the market economy fuels insatiability and malcontent, systematically erodes the goodness of what is, and cripples joy.”
If you want intimacy in relationships, get ready for disappointment. People will let you down. The only people who fully measure up to your hopes and dreams are people you don't know very well. With those people, kept safely at a distance, you can maintain the fantasy of perfection -- or near-perfection. But when you get to know them deeply, the fantasy evaporates. You see -- and feel -- the hard edges and flaws. Maybe you get
hurt by something they do or say. The relationship that started off so effortless now becomes "work."
What then?
Sometimes, as you get to know someone better, you see their true colors, and decide you don't want them in your life. In some
cases, that may be wise. Maybe you come to see that they are not at all what you thought, that they are unhealthy for you to be around. I certainly am not trying to argue that we slavishly invest ourselves in all the relationships in our lives, even ones that are draining, unhealthy, and destructive.
But many people have the opposite problem: they
are unwilling to work through any struggles, and distance themselves from people whenever they start to see things they don't like. This is a mistake. Sometimes we need to work through our disappointments with other people, because what's on the other side is glorious. If all we do is stumble from relationship to relationship, repeatedly turning away because we get hurt or disillusioned ... we will lose our capacity for
love.
Listen to what Ann Brasco has to say about this:
“Often, our relationships become an unrealized quest for what is perfect, unfettered, and free of flaws. We expect our partners, spouses, and our friends to avoid missteps and to be
magical mind readers. These secret expectations play a sinister part in many of the great tragedies of our lives: failed marriages, dissipated dreams, abandoned careers, outcast family, deserted children, and discarded friendships.
We readily forget what we once knew as children: our flaws are not only natural but integral
to our beings. They are interwoven into our soul’s DNA and yet we continually reject the crooked, wrinkled, mushy parts of our life rather than embrace them as the very essence of our beings.
I once believed that aiming for perfection would land me in the realm of excellence. This, however, may not be the trajectory of how
things happen. In fact, the pursuit of perfection may be the biggest obstacle to becoming whole.
It seems essential to value hard work and determination and yet recognize that the road to excellence is littered with mistakes and subsequent lessons. Imperfection and excellence are intertwined. There is joy in our pain,
strength in weakness, courage in compassion, and power in forgiveness.”
