Midlife and the Striver’s Curse
I don’t know if I can say I’ve officially entered midlife at thirty-seven, but I do know I’m not where I thought I’d be. In a lot of ways my circumstances are great. I have an incredible wife, a job that I enjoy, a solid church to call home, and two healthy, frolicking kids. On the surface this is a sweet season, but if I’m honest, I thought it would be a little bit sweeter, a little more satisfying. I’m noticing a low-grade disappointment coloring my world—even though I don’t want it to. Recently, I’ve been doing some digging in the New Testament and other resources to see what’s behind my disappointment.
One helpful companion for me has been Arthur Brooks new bestseller, From Strength to Strength: Finding Success, Happiness, and Deep Purpose in the Second Half of Life. In the book, Brooks coins a term called the striver’s curse. It refers to the fallout that often occurs to people who have spent the first half of their lives in the restless pursuit of more. When midlife hits, they “find their inevitable decline terrifying, their success increasingly unsatisfying, and their relationships lacking” (xiv). For some, that painful realization can lead to the proverbial midlife crisis.
While there is some debate on when midlife occurs, I’m going to suggest that it begins sometime between ages thirty-five to forty-five. This season is revealing to me where I have unknowingly believed some lies. While always susceptible to them, they have a tendency to creep up with intensity in midlife. Here are a few of the most prevalent we often fall prey to.
Lie #1: My happiness is contingent upon my appearance. Or we could frame the lie this way: “My happiness is contingent on how I feel each morning as catch my reflection in the mirror.”
How does that glance hit you? Do you feel disappointment? Grief? Maybe you feel fine and are in the best shape of your life. If so, praise God.
For most of us though, our bodies tend to receive greater neglect in the years preceding midlife. As kids, careers, and obligations abound, many of us are just trying to survive the whirlwind. Consistent neglect of our physical health often signals a laundry list of other issues like overcommitment, slothfulness, misplaced priorities, or even a skewed theology of the body.
We are not our bodies—that’s not the whole picture. But each of us has a bundle of flesh that must be stewarded similar to our hearts and souls and minds. We have a physical body now, on this side of the veil. And we will have a physical body then, as we cross to the other side (1 Cor. 15:42–44).
Given the anxiety we feel over our appearance, it’s not surprising that plastic surgery is most prevalent between the ages of thirty-five and fifty. People are trading their savings accounts to try and ward off the aging process. One sign of health for the Christ-follower in midlife is the ability to look in the mirror and grieve well. Grieve the body that once was—though is not anymore. Grieve your own neglect of your body. As hard as it is, you can accept the fact that your twenty-year-old body is gone, and despite the level of discipline you desire to exert in this year ahead—it’s probably not coming back.
And that’s okay.
You grieve the loss, repent of any sin you need to own, and say something like this to yourself: “The Lord knows me in this season with my body. He’s not surprised—and by no means is he disgusted. In fact, he loves me passionately. I can rest in that. I am not my body. And my happiness is not contingent on my appearance.”
There may be nothing more freeing in midlife than being disappointed in how you look but feeling loved by God—and resting in that being enough.
Lie #2: My happiness is contingent upon my success and possessions. These two are often coupled together, but odds are you gravitate towards one. Which one excites you more? Do you love stuff? Or do you love applause?
Both can give us a quick shot of dopamine. Success is the drug of choice for so many of us. Everywhere we turn, accomplishments and accolades seem to be the tracks that lead to the good life. The striver’s curse is not restricted to high-achieving, executive leaders. Pastors, teachers, entrepreneurs, and stay-at-home moms can be just as culpable. Anyone can give themselves over to the allure of success. We work crazy hard, climb the ladder, and reap the benefits. The bank account grows; toys and trinkets start to multiply. Recognizing this lie in midlife is hard because life seems to be going so well around the age of forty.
So how do you know if your happiness is contingent on these things? Loss is the clearest indicator. A lost job, financial hardship, or dwindling influence in your field will expose it.
Even if you haven’t tasted the bitterness of loss as you hit midlife, Christ followers are consistently confronted with a call. It’s the call of Christ to surrender. A powerful example of this is Jesus’s interaction with the rich young ruler in the gospels. It can be easy for us to throw stones at this self-righteous millionaire, but how would you reply to Jesus if you were that uber wealthy? Jesus’s call to the young man is clear: “One thing you still lack. Sell all that you have and distribute to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me” (Luke 18:22).
And the young man’s response? “But when he heard these things, he became very sad, for he was extremely rich” (v. 23).
Every time I read this gospel story, a line from J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Hobbit pricks my heart: “If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.”
Lie #3: My happiness is contingent upon how my life stacks up against others. If we occasionally throw rocks at the rich young ruler, we tend to hurl boulders toward the Apostle Peter. He often deserves it though. Following Jesus’s resurrection, Peter has an intimate encounter with him on the shore. Jesus lovingly restores Peter, but also lets him peek into the suffering that awaits him.
“Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you used to dress yourself and walk wherever you wanted, but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go.” (This he said to show by what kind of death he was to glorify God.) And after saying this he said to him, “Follow me.” (John 21:18–19)
And then John strolls by:
Peter turned and saw the disciple whom Jesus loved following them . . . When Peter saw him, he said to Jesus, “Lord, what about this man?” Jesus said to him, “If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is that to you? You follow me!” (John 21:20–22).
Peter couldn’t help himself. He couldn’t focus on his calling, he had to pivot to ask about John’s.
Who are the Johns in your life? We compare constantly: How does my marriage stack up to that couple at church? Will I ever have a body like that? Why is my work done in obscurity while my friend’s accomplishments are praised? When will we be able to live in that house in that neighborhood? Who are the people you weigh your life and happiness against?
Comparison is a cancer that will rob you of joy—especially in midlife. Most of us have so many blessings to rejoice in, but giving ourselves over to comparison kills our gratitude. But if we are surrendered to the Lord and obeying the Great Commandment, we can exhibit a genuine spirit of thankfulness. Deeper still, we can rejoice when things are going well for those around us—even as we navigate our own disappointment.
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A while back, I was pushing my daughter on the swing at a park nearby. A boy about her age came over to play with us and proudly declared, “My dad is taller than your dad!” His mom had brought him to the park that day so I couldn’t confirm if the boy was a truth-teller or an agitator.
Either way, he succeeded in agitating me. I’m an inch shy of six feet, and as silly as it sounds, I’ve always wanted that extra inch. Here is a five-year-old boy telling me his dad is taller than me and I’m annoyed because I don’t want to be less than anyone.
As trite as that example is, it is a bit of a microcosm of the struggles of midlife. You will be tempted to give way to comparison, disappointment, and discontentment from the moment you wake up in the morning. But Jesus is teaching me to be okay with my midlife appearance, success, finances, and the particular story that he is writing in my life. There are things about this season worth grieving and things worth celebrating. I’m learning—albeit slowly—to recognize the lies I’ve believed from the culture, the enemy, and my own sinful heart. Gratitude is starting to color more of my world, and it has me hopeful for the second half of life.
If you find yourself reaping disappointment from giving way to the striver’s curse, maybe the Lord is calling you into a season of reflection and repentance. As you reorient your life around the true and better way of Jesus, you might just find gratitude spring up and push you towards the second half. We owe it to the Lord, ourselves, and to those around us to strive well for the right reasons.
Ryan Kucera works with RightNow Media, helping resource churches around the globe with gospel-centered content. He has served in pastoral ministry for the last ten years across the great state of Texas. He holds a Master of Divinity from Southeastern Seminary and is a PhD student at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. Ryan and his family are members at The Village Church in Dallas, Texas. You can read more of his writing at ryankucera.net.