Birthday Musings

What would you do if you had five years to live? Or one? I guess the difference would make quite a difference, but the point of the well-worn exercise is to reexamine your life. As I celebrate another year of existence, and begin to delve into the bleak and cynical world of the television series Mad Men, I find myself pondering such arcane issues as "where do I find enjoyment in life? What do I do that satisfies me and brings me peace and contentment? And more importantly, what would I do differently if a clock was running down somewhere?"

Would I be nicer to people? Or meaner? Would I stop procrastinating with my "dreams" and ambitions? Would I lose some inhibitions or gain some? It's a fun exercise, but it doesn't really get you anywhere to muse on it for its own sake. You have to move past it to look at how we define ourselves and our lives.

You see, the people in Mad Men, 1950's advertisement marketers, define themselves by pleasure. Notably, Don Draper, the central figure (I think "hero" is inappropriate for both the actuality and intention of the show's writers) smokes, drinks, has a wife and family, a prestigious and weighty job, a steady stream of women on the side, and, well, the world on a string. And I'm only 2 episodes in but I can already see that this is almost at the zenith of the parabola of his life. He's in his thirties, can get any girl that he wishes, goes home to a dutiful and doting wife, and makes a living in NYC in a bustling and challenging industry. Yet, he's unhappy. Deeply flawed. Desperately cynical. Absolutely existential in worldview. Live for the now, it's all there is. Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we may die. Strike that, tomorrow we will die, whether tomorrow is the next day or 30 years away. Life ends in death.

We look at athletes, cultural icons like singers or actors, the filthy rich and powerful, all desperately trying to postpone that awful truth that death awaits all of them, that their beauty, their fame, their fortune, their abilities, their influence, their legacy cannot save them. No matter how filled the hyphen may be with success, pleasure, and happiness, the date always comes last. No hyphen ever ends unresolved.

And so I look back at my 29 years on earth and see no great accomplishments, in the world's context. I'm nearly broke, alone, rotund (to put it kindly), aimless. And before me dangles the promise that life will have greater meaning if you accumulate wealth, find a dazzling beauty's affection, and create an enduring legacy. But does it? Even someone like Shakespeare, whose work still remains relevant 300 years after his death, who is lionized and canonized, is no more than words on a page. His life is over, and long since his body has disintegrated. What has his fame and legacy profited him? What does it matter if a man gains the whole world without ever saving his soul?

You see, I'm tempted to resolve to live like I have a year left in life, or five. To stop procrastinating or drifting in life's uneasy eddies and DO SOMETHING! But what would I do? And why would it matter?

I am not unaware of the answer that Christ Jesus offers to this quandary that plagues every honest soul that looks around and at itself in frank evaluation. The answers, the counters, the hope, spring to my mind. That's kind of the issue, isn't it? If God's directing my steps, then the worth of my actions, my words, my very life, lie in that context as He decides and directs. It's a suspiciously simple answer: God! He's the answer! Like a cure-all that promises panacea, just trust God and continue on. Well, I trust God. And I'm still at that place I mentioned earlier. I've trusted Him most of my life, to varying degrees. And the alternative to God holds no attraction to me; as Mad Men exemplifies and reinforces, the crazed pursuit of worth, wealth, and ecstasy in the world's context is hollow and vain. I know it, like a man knows he's in love. It's a surety born not of mind or emotion but both, and therefore deeper and higher than either. I know God exists. I know He alone can answer these deep questions and notions we all face. I know that apart from Him, everything is vanity, a chasing after the wind. I know it.

I trust God, but my heart still cries out for meaning, for purpose, for peace and pleasure. How will God provide these? Or will He wait until death renders all questions moot?