When Good Things Become Chains
Budgets do something strange for my soul. Every month, I weirdly enjoy lining up income against expenses. No guesswork, no creativity — just puts and takes. It's soothing.
(Yeah, I know — I'm weird.)
In a different way, "atta boys" do something for my soul too. Early on, first within the church and then at Samaritan’s Purse, I would work all hours, go anywhere, climb mountains, pave highways — whatever it took — just to know someone was proud of me.
(Yeah, I know — I'm broken.)
We often ask earthly treasures for things they were never meant to give us.
Take money — we don't just want dollars; we want security, power, control.
Or work — we aren't just earning a paycheck; we want identity, purpose, relationships.
Food — it's not just nutrition; it’s comfort, escape, silence for the ache inside.
Recognition — it's not just about being seen; it's about feeling worthy and loved.
These are good gifts from God. But when we start asking them to meet the needs only God can satisfy, we risk losing ourselves.
A good question to ask yourself is this; “Where do I go first when I’m anxious, afraid, or bored?”
The pantry?
The office?
The screen?
The gym?
None of these are wrong in themselves. But when they become your first refuge, they begin to enslave you.
In John 21, after Peter’s world collapsed, he ran back to what he knew — the boats and nets.
At least those things made sense. He knew how to fish. He could find a measure of control, even identity, there. But Jesus wasn't content to leave him satisfied with the old ways. No matter how full his nets were, they couldn’t fill the ache inside his soul. Once God places His mark on you, nothing else will.
This idea echoes through a short essay by G.D. Watson called "Others May, You Cannot."
Watson reminds us that if God truly claims you, He may deal with you differently than others — requiring more, explaining less, loving you with a fierce, possessive love that shapes you for a glory you cannot yet see.
So — where do you run when you're stressed?
Where are you hoping to find life?
Maybe between you and God this week, take a quiet moment to ask:
When I’m anxious, scared, or bored — what do I run to?
Why do I run there?
And how might I let Jesus fill that empty space instead?
