Greyhound races are interesting things.  If you’ve never seen one, here’s how they work: the greyhounds set up in a line on a racetrack, and on the side of the track is a rail.  Fixed to the rail is a motorized rabbit.  When the race starts, the motorized rabbit speeds along the rail at a speed well above the dogs’, and the dogs, eager to catch their prize, are motivated to run as fast as they can.  Although greyhounds are literally built for speed (up to 45 miles per hour), they have no chance at catching the motorized rabbit, which usually speeds along between 75 and 100 miles per hour.  But they try, and it’s quite entertaining to watch.

Two things interest me about the greyhounds and their fake rabbits.  First, most greyhounds probably don’t realize they’ll never catch what they’re chasing.  In their limited canine brains, they probably can’t even understand that possibility.  They have a goal that powerfully eludes them, yet they run after it.   Second, these canine cheetahs would be sorely disappointed if they somehow did catch their prize since it would be a rubber or metal imitation of a rabbit.

Our vain pursuits of personal glory are just like greyhound races.  Like eager dogs, we chase after something that keeps moving ahead of us.  We never quite get what we want.  If we get 200 Twitter followers, we want 500.  If we actually get 500, we want 1,000.  If we get 1,000, we want 10,000.  And so on.  As the fake rabbit always speeds ahead of the greyhounds, our personal goals of glory and recognition always expand beyond what we currently have. And if we do achieve those goals, we want something better.  Something bigger.  Something more substantial.  Something better than a fake rabbit.  The problem is, the only rabbits we can chase on our racetracks of selfish ambitions are fake ones.

The journey toward building our fame and personal kingdoms has one direction and one direction only: more.  Eventually, the proud self-worshiper realizes the hunger for more goes on for infinity.  The worst sense of loss is realizing you're closer to infinity than anyone else... equally as far away.  Another way to say it is, if you try to fill up a heart set on eternity (Ecclesiastes 3:11) with something that isn’t eternally great, you experience the very essence of misery. This is why the heart of sin is never satisfied (Proverbs 27:20).

The root of discontentment is the pursuit of anything outside of or in addition to the glory of God.  If we want true contentment, we have to start by affirming that we sin if we devote ourselves to anything outside of or in addition to the glory of God.  If you’re living a lifestyle built on selfish motives, it’s not “unhealthy” or a “struggle”; it’s sin.  It’s not just bad, it’s deadly.  It’s worthy of an eternity of separation from God in Hell. Is pride not the origin of all evil (Genesis 3:1-6)? Jesus died for every proud thought you have when you obsess over how many downloads your album has or how many “likes” your Facebook fan page has or how many people are following you on Twitter or which artists you have connections to. 

Those examples only scratch the surface; pride has a thousand faces.  And each one of those faces ends up in tears because pride’s end is discontentment and separation from the joy and peace found in living for the glory of God.  If you’re chasing anything outside of or in addition to God’s glory, you’re starting down an infinitely long path of pain.  History is filled with men and women who have achieved every goal you can imagine and still cry of their dissatisfactions.  Can’t you see the shattered paths of those who attempted to build their own kingdoms?    

The funny thing about Christians is, we know what we need in order to be content.  We know the truth.   We know if we delight in God, He will give us the desires of our hearts: Himself (Psalm 37:4).  We know we’ll be fully satisfied only when we’re in His presence after this life.  We know He’s our only hope, our only basis for meaning, our only substance for stability. But our hearts are still fallen, locked in a gravity toward sin even though Christ has redeemed us.  And we sinfully savor the praise of men and women in addition to the truth we’ve been given.  We’re constantly discontent because we’re constantly peeling away from fellowship with God.

So, we need to do the hard work of reaffirming the Gospel to ourselves each day: We’re sinners, helplessly cut off from God, yet He desires to save a people from the world He created so they can know Him (John 17:3) and represent His glory and His kingdom to the world.  This is our purpose, and in this purpose alone contentment is found.  We have to pour this truth into our own hearts every day to experience the freedom of Godly contentment.  Sometimes it’s not just what you know, it’s how much you think about it and act on it.  And if you’re constantly dwelling on the truth of God’s presence, His plan, His Gospel and your future in Him, pride will melt away and contentment will come.  So go back to the Gospel.  A lot.

If we’re greyhounds and life where we’re number One is a racetrack to nowhere, we should be wise and not run this meaningless race.  We should realize the goals this world sets up (notoriety, fortune, glory…) will always outrun us because they’ll always get bigger… and make us emptier.  We should realize that if we were to get what we want, it would turn out to be a fake disappointment, a rubber rabbit of deception. Instead, we should run to our owner, our master, our King who gives comfort and purpose.

For those who watch you as you run back to your King, where will you point them? 

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