But, Mackay adds, "most important, you have to be sure you never get it."*

Mackay is talking tongue-in-cheek--somewhat. He isn’t suggesting we should prevent ourselves from reaching a dream, nor is he encouraging self-sabotage. Nor is he saying we shouldn’t celebrate our victory. Far from it. What he is saying is that we shouldn’t let the success become our final resting place. We should take what inspiration from it we can, then move on to new pursuits.

We do best not to let ourselves feel too successful, Mackay means. It’s far more healthy to continue to feel that we still have worlds to conquer. He adds, "The successful people I know always have a carrot in front of them, slightly out of reach, no matter how many carrots they already have."*

I recall John Updike offering similar advice to writers in an interview featured in Time some years ago. Though I’ve long since lost the magazine, I’ve never forgotten his counsel, which has seemed like a personal admonition ever since. No one "goes bad" more frequently and thoroughly than writers, Updike noted. Authors who have a brush with success may conclude too readily that anything they write is wonderfully appealing. They stop agonizing over their material so much, and begin publishing first drafts rather than third. They lose their edge, and their readers lose their interest.

Humility, Updike observed, is one of the most essential requirements for good writing. We who write do best not to focus on our successes--the reviews, the accolades. We should give our energy instead to the work ahead of us, and keep that challenge as great as possible. And we should never imagine that we’ve reached a plateau where we no longer need to go through the same arduous process that has enabled us to write effectively in the past.

Psychotherapist David Richo offers such counsel in a broader way in Unexpected Miracles. Life presents us with many fortuitous surprises, Richo explains. Yet we must stay adequately challenged to experience them; if we let ourselves become too comfortable, we blunt the possibility of surprise. "Are you setting up your life so that there will be no surprises?" Richo asks. "Is everything too orderly? What do you lose that way? Is fear behind your not being surprised very much these days?"*

One of the greatest challenges we face is knowing how to move forward with our life once we experience success or have a taste of it. Success can be a tonic to us--in the most healthy sense--boosting our self-esteem, giving us confidence we can achieve our goals, and spurring us on to new dreams.

Success can also be a tranquilizer, lulling us into a life that’s too comfortable and predictable. Or it may incline us to keep some challenge present, but not at a level appropriate to the potential God has given us or to our own need for growth and stimulation. Halford Luccock notes, "There is a major disaster when a person allows some success to become a stopping place rather than a way station on to a larger goal. It often happens that an early success is a greater moral hazard than an early failure."*

We are always happiest, healthiest and most productive when our life is strongly in a growth mode. We are most likely realizing our potential when we’re being driven by childlike enthusiasm for a dream, that fires us to spring out of bed when the alarm rings and move as quickly as we can to salvage every moment possible to work toward our goal.

This isn’t to say that we have to have a radically new dream on the horizon at all times in life. Dreams come in two varieties--those we pursue, and those we live out. Some achieve a dream early in life that fits them so well they spend the rest of their life living it out, yet they do so with energy and creative initiative. In reality, they are responding to many new dreams--these simply fit clearly within the cherished role in life they’ve attained.

Many of us go through periods like this. We’ve achieved a dream so meaningful, and demanding in its responsibilities, that we’re compelled to give our full attention to living it out. While we may pursue many goals within this dream, we’re wisest not to let unrelated interests divert us.

Over a lifetime, though, most of us are not so unilateral in our approach to life, but we discover God’s plan through a more circuitous route. From time to time we need a clearly new dream to keep our life on the growing edge. For us, the temptation may be to settle prematurely for a level of accomplishment that doesn’t represent God’s best for us.

In stressing the importance of keeping our life in motion toward dreams, I don’t mean to downplay our need for leisure. We each need times when we turn off the mental generator. We need rest and relaxation daily and sometimes extended periods of leisure. I’ve long been impressed that Scripture--especially in its extensive counsel about observing the Sabbath--emphasizes the importance of rest far more than the need to gird up our loins and get to work. The Bible unquestionably views overwork as a greater threat to our well-being than laziness.

Scripture extols leisure not as an end in itself but as an opportunity for rekindling our motivation for the work God has called us to do. After Ezra and his highly motivated companions traveled from the Ahava Canal to Jerusalem, for instance, they "rested three days" before proceeding with their challenging assignments (Ezra 8:32 NIV). The revitalizing role of rest is shown especially dramatically in Elijah’s recovery from burnout, detailed in 1 Kings 19:1-8.

Is it wrong, then, to seek leisure for its own sake? Is it unhealthy, for example, to dream of retirement as an opportunity for unending leisure?

I’ve personally known many retired people who for years relished the opportunity to stop punching the clock and enjoy a life with few restrictions. Some of them disdained their professional work, and long endured an unsatisfying career with the hope for a major payback in retirement. Some of them truly enjoy their retirement--and I must confess they are an inspiration to me. They encourage me by their examples to take life at a more reasonable pace and not to get obsessive about work.

When I look at why these people enjoy retirement so much, I find in every case that, while they are now taking life at a more humane pace, their life still includes plenty of activity. Some are active in recreational, artistic or creative pursuits. Others, with large extended families, are circuit riders, visiting children and grandchildren, giving encouragement and helping with problems where they can. Others give extensive time to volunteer service or ministry. Retirement for these people is a treasured opportunity to pursue dreams that have been dormant or half-realized for much of their life. They are still very much about the business of realizing their potential.

Others are bored in retirement, and some are simply miserable. They’ve looked to retirement and its leisure as life’s ultimate prize, but have found it doesn’t deliver what it promised. They long for greater purpose in life, and a greater sense of being useful.

Others begin retirement eager to pursue certain activities that over time lose their appeal. Now they long for greater stimulation.

The challenge for those who find retirement unsatisfying is the lure of the comfort zone. They now enjoy a lifestyle that’s at least comfortable and familiar. And they no longer have financial pressure--a greater benefit than we usually realize--to look for employment. The inertia can be broken in this case. But it takes courage and decisiveness. It may also require defying conventional wisdom.

One such individual who defied both inertia and conventional wisdom, and has long benefited, is Robert Eisenberg. After working half a century in garment manufacturing, Eisenberg retired in 1970 at 72, selling Zabin Industries, which he had owned since 1954. "‘I was ready,’ he says, ‘but I found it boring after about 10 years.’" At 82, he went back to work for Zabin. Today, at 103, he still works full-time for the company, overseeing zipper production. "‘He’s got remarkable mental abilities,’ says owner Alan Failoa, 57. ‘The longer I’ve dealt with him, the more I find myself forgetting his age.’"*

It may be argued that his is simply a case of exceptional genetics. Yet it’s hard to resist the conclusion that Eisenberg’s decision to resume his former career has added years to his life; it certainly has added vitality to his years. His example is unusual (he's believed by many to be America’s oldest worker), and I’m not suggesting that most who are bored in retirement should jump back into their former profession at full throttle. It is the right step for some, though. Many others who are restless in retirement will find relief in resuming some sort of gainful employment.

What’s most helpful about Eisenberg’s example is that it provides a different model for thinking about retirement than our customary one--namely, retirement as sabbatical. This is a much more inspiring and helpful model for many of us than the traditional concept of retirement as endless leisure, for it encourages us to realize that, if we’re unhappy retired, we’re not locked into staying so. There may be a multitude of new directions we can take with our life, including many we’ve never entertained. These may include resuming a meaningful career.

If you find yourself unsatisfied in retirement, at least consider the possibility that God is intending this period as a sabbatical for you rather than a permanent vacation. If you take on a job or some meaningful activity at this point, you’ll have a lifetime of experience to bring to your new calling, plus the benefit of the time you’ve taken to get refreshed and gain new perspective. The retirement-as-sabbatical model can be positively thrilling, especially if you’ve felt put out to pasture and doomed to stay there forever.

Let’s say you’re at a point in life where you’re fairly comfortable. You may be retired. Or you may be young and working eighty hours a week. But you’ve achieved some goals that are important to you. Now you’re content with your life as it is, and not greatly preoccupied with reaching for new horizons.

How do you determine if this comfort zone is healthy, or whether there is yet another star to which you should hitch a wagon?

One critical question is whether you are truly happy in this state. Your instincts will tell you a lot, if you read them correctly. In sorting them through, consider these questions:

Is there, in fact, a major improvement that you’d welcome for your life? Do you fantasize about having this benefit?

Is there a skill you’ve long cherished for yourself, but have never developed or nurtured as fully as you’d like?

Is there a need among people you know, or a more widespread need in the world, you would love to help meet? Is there a problem others face that you dream of solving, or a contribution to others’ lives you dream of making?

Suppose you were at the end of your life, looking back over it. Would you feel there is unfinished business? Is there something you would seriously regret not having accomplished?

Perhaps it’s only too clear that the answer to one or more of these questions is yes. You have a dream--dormant though it may be--which could easily resurface with the right encouragement. If so, then I urge you to consider carefully whether you’re allowing the need for security to keep you from God’s best for your life.

I don’t deny that we have dreams that are better left unpursued. Our need to feel important, or our compassion, may lead us to fantasize about a certain accomplishment, when in fact we’d have no taste at all for the work involved with that role.

Jason, 55, has long daydreamed about becoming a pastor and entering professional church ministry as a retirement vocation. One motive is noble: he’d thoroughly love sharing the gospel with people and having the best possible platform for winning others to Christ. He has another motive that is more complex and less trustworthy. He attended a missions conference as a young man, where the speakers urged those attending to enter the ministry as a career. He’s been dogged with guilt ever since that he may have settled for God’s second best by choosing accounting as his profession. He’d relish the opportunity to atone for his possible mistake. And he’d treasure the identity of being a pastor--a status he imagines would boost his self-worth enormously.

In reality, Jason would have little heart for the endless work with people necessary to minister effectively--the consensus building, the handholding, the motivating--not to mention the denominational politics. He’d also find the process required for preparing effective sermons and talks burdensome.

Jason’s pastoral dream, in short, is based too greatly upon the imagined self-esteem benefits, and too little on a love for the actual work involved. We each lay hold to a number of dreams like this during our lifetime--where we imagine we’d savor the status of a particular achievement, yet in truth would not enjoy living out the role. These are dreams best kept in the enjoy-the-fantasy category.

Such fantasizing isn’t unhealthy, providing the roles we muse about aren’t themselves harmful or unhealthy. A certain amount of such unrealistic wish-dreaming, in fact, is normal, and vital to being human. It’s necessary if we’re to effectively work through various options that appeal to us, and settle on those that truly do work for us. It’s simply important that we develop the discernment to distinguish between those dreams that fit us well and those that don’t.

With that disclaimer, we each entertain many dreams that do make good sense for us. We’d not only love the distinction of the accomplishment, but would relate well to the responsibility involved. The work and lifestyle changes that would result, in short, are a good fit to our gifts and personality.

These are the dreams we should be careful don't get snuffed out when life gets too comfortable. The four questions I’ve suggested may help you to ferret out such dreams, and put them on the table again.

Perhaps you’re not certain whether your answer to any of the questions is yes. Before you write off the possibility that any important aspirations are still brewing inside you, let me ask you to consider the example of Moses. God called him to spend the last third of his life in a role he found immensely satisfying. He thrived on the leadership opportunity, and the chance to make a critical difference in the destiny of his people. His relationship with God grew extraordinarily through it all, and his health seemed to benefit as well, for at the time of his death at 120, "his eyes were not weak nor his strength gone" (Deut 34:7).

Yet Moses at first held the opportunity God was offering him in contempt--even though God called him through the most direct revelation imaginable. He was certain he didn’t want the job, convinced he’d be a failure, positive he’d detest the work. With the possible exception of Jonah, we don’t find a more dramatic example in Scripture of someone resisting a call and failing to appreciate the fortuitous opportunity in front of them.

The opportunity God presented Moses, though, was perfect for him and fit his gifts and personality remarkably. He had grown up in the household of Pharaoh and, probably better than any Israelite living at that time, understood the palace culture and how to communicate with royalty. He had also lived with the priest of Midian for decades, certainly learning volumes about how to be an effective spiritual leader.

Most important, Moses had a burning, though long-repressed, instinct to fight injustice and champion better conditions for his people. In his late thirties, he killed an Egyptian whom he caught abusing an Israelite. Public resentment of Moses’ vigilantism, however, forced him into hiding. For the next forty years--from age 40 to 80--he lived in Midian, tending sheep for Jethro the priest, who gave Moses his daughter as his wife. Life in Midian was comfortable for Moses--an early retirement of sorts (Ex 2:21). After forty years of peaceful shepherding, he had practically lost touch with the passionate zeal of his youth. God knew it was capable of resurfacing, though, with the right prodding.

Moses’ example is a striking reminder that we don’t always understand our own aspirations very well. Inertia and fear--ranging from apprehensions of failure to uneasiness with success--may numb us from perceiving what we most want to do and would be most effective doing. His example challenges us not to be too quick to think that we’ve recognized all the important horizons God has for us. And it stirs us to look carefully at whether we’re allowing security needs or unreasonable fears to shut down our ability to dream.

This isn’t to say that, if God leads you into a new mission after retirement, it will necessarily require the radical acceleration of activity that occurred in Moses’ case. There are other important biblical examples of such inertia breaking besides Moses’. Abraham, for instance, took a more leisurely approach to his later years than Moses did. Following his father’s death, "he went out not knowing whither he went" (Heb 11:8 KJV). God brought major new adventures into his life: the birth of Isaac, with the opportunity for parenting; a military mission to rescue his cousin Lot; remarriage after Sarah’s death. Yet these opportunities unfolded at a more relaxed pace than events did for Moses. God never laid upon him the intensive leadership responsibilities required of Moses, nor brought the level of disruption to his life that Moses experienced.

If Moses gives us a model of retirement as sabbatical, then, Abraham shows us the possibility of new dreams and adventures taking place within retirement. When we consider their examples together, we’re reminded that God has different patterns and paces for each of us. What they both show us is the importance of staying open to new adventure, of continuing to dream big about our life, and of never assuming that the most important chapters of our life have all been written.

Their examples also remind us that--

God gives us the ability to carry out important dreams in spite of what we perceive as inadequacies or even severe limitations.

He enlightens us about these opportunities, and may do so by inspiring new dreams, or by resurfacing old ones that have long lain dormant.

The fact that we’re not experiencing some burning new inspiration for our future at the moment doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll never have fresh vision again. It may simply indicate that God has a different timetable for enlightening us than we expect.

This last point is perhaps the most encouraging of all, for we can feel guilty or disheartened when no new dream seems to be emerging. We may beat ourselves up for not thinking big enough about our life, even though we’re making a reasonable effort to do so. If, in fact, we are eager for growth and new adventure, stay open and expectant about our future, and continue to pray earnestly for God’s direction and strength, we have strong reason to hope that he will, in his time, inspire fresh dreams that bring important new purpose to our life.

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Copyright 2001 M. Blaine Smith.
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