When Achieving More Leaves You Empty

Have you ever ticked all the boxes and still felt hollow? You got the promotion, hit the target, and maybe even managed that January gym streak for once. And yet, somewhere underneath the achievement, there's this nagging sense that you're running hard but not actually getting anywhere. Matt Edmundson opened up about flipping through his journals from 2016 and finding the same resolutions we all write - get fitter, lose weight, and earn more money. Noble enough goals. But the question he never asked back then was simply why?

Regardless of the messages we may have heard, ambition is not wrong. Setting goals isn't the problem. But what tends to happen is that we end up carrying a weight that was never really ours to carry in the first place. Matt talked about how his business nearly went under in 2013, leaving him staring at the ceiling at 3 am, going over and over things in his mind. His resolution to earn more money seemed logical - even noble. But it turned out God had a different plan entirely.

The Treadmill That Goes Nowhere

Economists have a name for what happens when we finally get what we've been chasing. They call it "lifestyle creep" - where the benefits of a salary increase typically fade within just a few weeks. Not months. Not years. Weeks. We adapt to the new level and start wanting more again. It's a treadmill where we run harder and harder just to stay in the same place.

Paul, writing to the church in Corinth - a city obsessed with the Isthmian Games (think Liverpool and football) - used athletic imagery to describe this phenomenon: "I do not run like someone running aimlessly. I do not fight like a boxer beating the air." (1 Corinthians 9:24-26)

And this image of shadow boxing is striking. Lots of movement. Lots of sweat. But no contact. No impact. And Matt suggested that's what self-authored ambition often looks like - training hard, throwing punches, but not actually hitting anything that matters.

From Author to Character

So what is a self-authored life? And what's the difference between being the author of your own story versus being a character in somebody else's?

New Year's resolutions are often about us trying to write a better story for ourselves. We're told we're the masters of our fates, that we should live our truth. So we become resolute, set the goals, and determine what success looks like. But here's what Matt discovered over the years - that's actually exhausting. Because when you're the author, you're responsible for absolutely everything. The plot has to work. The character arc has to make sense. And all the ducks have to line up perfectly.

The Christian paradigm offers something radically different. You're not the author of your story - you're being written into God's story. Psalm 139 puts it this way: "In your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me." (Psalm 139:16)

The days aren't a blank page we have to fill. They've already been written. Not in a fatalistic, no-choice kind of way, but in a "you're part of something much bigger already" kind of way. We don't have to invent ourselves because we've already been written into it.

Paul on the Sinking Ship

This brings us to a remarkable story in Acts 27. Paul is a prisoner aboard a ship heading to Rome, where he'll stand trial. The ship gets caught in a horrendous storm - not a quick squall, but days of relentless battering. The crew throws cargo overboard, lowers anchors to slow the drift, and does everything possible. The Bible says, "the terrible storm raged for many days, and it blotted out the sun and the stars until at last, all hope was gone."

And right at this point - chained, powerless, with zero control - Paul stands up and says: "Take courage. None of you will lose your lives even though the ship will go down."

How do you do that? How do you stay calm when everything around you is falling apart?

Because Paul wasn't the author of this story. He was playing his part in God's story, and God had told him he would stand trial before Caesar. That destination was certain, even in the chaos. Paul didn't control the storm, but he wasn't controlled by the storm either.

The Crown That Actually Lasts

The athletes in Corinth were running for a laurel wreath - leaves that would wither and die within weeks. Their identity, worth, and significance were tied to winning something that wouldn't last. Our modern-day crowns aren't made of leaves; they are made up of pay rises and new cars. But the principle is the same.

Paul said he was doing it all to get a crown that would last forever. He had ambition - serious ambition - but he pointed it towards something with eternal impact. He could do that because he wasn't trying to write his own story or set his own agenda. As he put it: "I no longer live, but Christ lives in me." (Gal 2:20).

This isn't fatalistic. It's trading exhausting self-authorship for something sustainable - playing your part in a story much bigger and better than anything you could write yourself.

Conversation Street

Why do we set the goals we set?

Mike Harris shared how challenging it was to ask "why" behind his New Year's resolutions - because it highlighted insecurities he was trying to cover by getting stronger or fitter. The goals themselves weren't wrong, but the underlying motivations revealed something deeper.

How do we discern what God wants?

Mike talked about his shift from being a PE teacher to a self-employed gardener. The biggest factor? Community. People who could help him think things through, rather than just going with what felt instinctive. There were also moments where someone at church felt prompted to pray for him and share a word - "I think it's time to change." On its own, that wouldn't have been enough. But combined with community wisdom, it eventually gave him the confidence to move.

What about when we're scared of getting it wrong?

One comment captured a common fear: "I often worry that if I do X and God wanted me to do Y, I'll mess something up. So I end up doing neither due to fear." Matt's response drew on football imagery - you run into the space before the ball arrives. You're always positioning yourself, moving, asking, "how can I serve?" Eventually, something connects. What you don't do is sit there paralysed. It's harder to miss God's will than people think.

The Ladder Against the Wrong Wall

Matt shared a personal story about having his career path laid out, sensing God asking him to step back from it. There were no angelic visitations, no writing in the sky - just an inner sense that the ladder he was climbing was leaning against the wrong wall. He could keep climbing, but it wasn't going where God wanted him.

Laying it down wasn't easy. "If you want easy, don't become a Christian," Matt said. "But if you want a peaceful life and a joyful life, then you should definitely become a Christian. Just not an easy one."

That decision opened up something he couldn't have planned. It's what brought him here.

What This Looks Like Practically

So how do we actually find our part in God's story? Matt suggested three things:

Scripture - Most of God's plans and purposes have already been revealed. About 80% of what we need to know is already there. We don't have to invent our mission from scratch.

Community - Life's mission isn't discerned in isolation. It's clarified in community. That's why church matters. That's why doing this alone never works.

Prayer - Not "God, show me my five-year plan" but "God, help me see what you're already doing and show me how to join in."

Running With Purpose

The self-help world tells you that you have everything you need within you. The Christian message says something quite different: you don't. And that's actually good news. Because in that position of weakness, we become strong. Christ becomes our enough.

So here's the invitation as we start the year. If you're exhausted - not from lack of effort but from aimless effort - there's another way. Stop trying to be the author. Simply ask: God, what are you doing? How do I join in? Where do you want me?

Paul was in chains on a sinking ship in a typhoon. Crashing waves. Chaos. Despair among the crew. Yet he was at peace. Not because he had it all figured out, but because he knew whose story he was in.

Let's stop shadow boxing. Let's stop beating the air. And let's run towards something that actually matters.