Your best...even though you aren't the best...

Epictetus spent time discussing the importance of maintaining one's honor and dignity despite what it may cost. Some people, he says, would give up all honor and dignity just to avoid discomfort. A lot of people would do the same just to avoid death. These people are essentially selling themselves short, and thus we are always impressed when we hear about a Socrates or some other character who will face the consequences no matter what they are to maintain his or her dignity, honor, or character. In citing Socrates as a role model, he points out that he [Epictetus] will probably never be as good a philosopher as Socrates, but that doesn't mean he won't do everything he can to be the best philosopher he can be. This, I think, is a very important sentiment.

How many times have you thought: Well why should I even bother sticking with this [hobby/sport/career/etc.] if I am never going to be the best at it? I should just do something else that only I can do, something I can do better than anyone else. I've had that thought many times. As a teenager, I gave up many things because it became blatantly clear to me that I would never be the best or even as good as most other people. And I think I know why we do that--at least in America today.

I once read an interview with a very popular talk show host. In it, the interviewer asked the host what people say to him on the street when they see him. The host said that the most common thing he hears from strangers on the street is that one day they will be on his show. But when the host asks them why they will be on the show--what skill/talent/accomplishment will be the reason that they are invited--the host said that just about every time, they have no idea what to say. They don't know. This is because in America the most admirable, most sought after quality is not accomplishment, it's not talent or skill, it is fame. Those strangers want to be on the talk show because it means they would be famous. They don't care what they would be famous for, and they certainly don't have any particular idea of how they would actually become famous, but that's their life goal. Some friends and I have been known to refer to this phenomenon as the Paris Hilton Effect. Paris Hilton, when she first graced the world with her presence in the land of entertainment, was famous for simply being famous. She had no special achievements, qualities, or skills that set her apart from anyone else--at least, if she did, that was not what had made her famous. She was famous for being famous.

Because we want so badly to be famous, we quickly abandon projects, jobs, or life goals that don't seem to contribute to our true objective of acquiring fame. Which is a sure indicator that we aren't actually doing what we want to be doing. We choose to adopt a hobby or a career based upon what it will acquire for us, rather than because we actually enjoy the activity itself.

This situation has certainly affected the Christian subculture in America as well (the mere fact that there is such a thing as a Christian subculture in America betrays the influence of this phenomenon). How many pastors want to be the next Rob Bell, John Piper, or Tim Keller? Probably a lot of seminary students out there think they will be. I've met some of them, in fact. And, to be honest, it is technically possible that such a thing just might happen for them. But my question is: Who cares? Since when did being famous become a goal of ours, instead of the mere by-product of a combination of doing what we love and circumstances completely outside of our control?

I don't know how this started in the Church specifically, but I have a hunch. I think it's partly due to all the talk that we received from loving parents who told us that there is something we must be really good at, something that I and only I could do well. That God had prepared some special activity or thing for me in which I will excel beyond everyone else. Now, the Bible clearly argues that God created each individual, and we know that each individual has his or her own set of skills and talents and predispositions. But the suggestion that each one of us has some special gift that will allow us to surpass all of our peers is probably a bit of a stretch. In fact, I can't even think of how someone could defend such a clearly unreasonable proposition. The downside to such well-intentioned parental assurances is that they focus our attention on how we compare to other people. C.S. Lewis once wrote that pride only exists when other people are considered. We don't want to have more money. We want to have more money than other people! The same is true with our talents. We don't want to be good at something, we want to be better than everyone else at something!

I play floor hockey with friends. I didn't do this much as a kid or a teenager, although I played it occasionally. But I have only recently, in the past two years or so, discovered how much I love to play the game. For that reason, and for many other reasons completely outside of my control, I will never be considered the best, or even anywhere near the best, amateur floor hockey player in the world. It would be a stretch to even suggest that I am consistently "good." As a kid, this would have totally defeated me. I would've dropped it fast, because why bother if you're not going to be the best or one of the best? Why bother if you don't get recognition and acknowledgment and respect? Now I realize I just enjoy playing. I don't need to get anything out of it. And when I play, I give it everything I have. Not because I think that if I try hard enough I'm going to be better than anyone else on the floor--probably not, in fact, regardless of how much time or effort I put into it; I will probably not even be as good as most of the other players. But I agree with Epictetus here wholeheartedly. Just because I won't ever be the best, doesn't mean I shouldn't give my best. I play because I have fun, and I play as hard as I can because it makes no sense to play at all if you're not going to give it everything you have.

How many of us do things because we think those things will secure for us attention, respect, love, or praise from other people? How many of us work hard, not to be the best we can be at something, but to be better than someone else? God has most certainly given each one of us certain talents and gifts. And he has also given us things that fill us with joy. More often than not, these two things overlap considerably. It seems to me that a part of living the Good Life is to do those things that fill us with joy, those things that God has blessed us with an opportunity to do, and to do those things to the best of our abilities with absolutely zero regard for how the best of our abilities measures up with the best of anyone else.