“Happiness is a pointless goal.” — Jordan Peterson
At first glance, that sounds absurd.
After all, isn’t happiness what everyone wants?
Isn’t it what we’re all pursuing in one form or another?
A better job.
A stronger marriage.
A memorable vacation.
A healthier body.
A bigger house.
A bucket-list experience.
A little more money.
A little more comfort.
A little more freedom.
Strip away the details, and much of modern life can be reduced to a single assumption:
The purpose of life is to be happy.
The assumption is so common that we rarely question it.
In fact, we’ve become so accustomed to it that unhappiness often feels like a violation of how life is supposed to work. If we’re not happy, something must be wrong. Something must be fixed. Something—or someone—must be standing in the way of the life we deserve.
But what if the problem isn’t that we’re failing to find happiness?
What if the problem is that we’re asking happiness to do something it was never designed to do?
What if happiness makes a wonderful gift but a terrible purpose?
The Ache Beneath the Pursuit
Blaise Pascal saw something in the human condition that remains just as true today as it was in the seventeenth century.
He wrote:
“This infinite abyss can be filled only with an infinite and immutable object; in other words by God himself.”
Pascal understood that every human being carries a deep ache.
A longing.
A restlessness.
A sense that something is missing.
We often try to satisfy that ache with achievement, relationships, experiences, possessions, success, entertainment, or pleasure. We keep adding layers in hopes that one more accomplishment, one more purchase, one more adventure, or one more milestone will finally make us feel complete.
But the ache remains.
Not because those things are bad.
Because they are too small.
They were never designed to bear the weight of the human soul.
The problem is not that we want too much.
The problem is that we settle for too little.
When Happiness Becomes a Purpose
There is a significant difference between the pursuit of happiness and the purpose of happiness.
Somewhere along the way, we’ve confused the two.
The pursuit of happiness acknowledges that joy is something we may experience as we live faithfully and responsibly.
The purpose of happiness says:
“I exist to be happy.”
Put that statement out in the open and it immediately begins to sound strange.
Yet much of modern culture operates as though it were true.
Every inconvenience becomes an obstacle.
Every sacrifice becomes suspect.
Every difficult responsibility becomes negotiable.
Every hard season feels unfair.
Why?
Because if happiness is the purpose of life, then anything that disrupts happiness appears to be working against our reason for existence.
But happiness was never intended to carry that burden.
A life devoted to happiness eventually becomes fragile because happiness itself is fragile.
It depends upon circumstances.
It rises and falls with outcomes.
It fluctuates with emotions.
It comes and goes.
The soul needs something sturdier.
Purpose in Life vs. the Purpose of Life
One of the most important distinctions we can make is the difference between our purpose in life and the purpose of life.
The purpose of life is not something we create.
It is something we discover.
If God exists—and if He created us—then our lives have a purpose that precedes our preferences.
The purpose of life cannot ultimately be determined by us because we did not create ourselves.
As William Lane Craig observed:
“Our ultimate concern ought to be how to be properly related to this being upon whom we depend moment by moment for our very existence.”
That changes the conversation.
The question is no longer:
What will make me happy?
The question becomes:
What was I made for?
Scripture answers that question clearly.
We were created for God.
To know Him.
To glorify Him.
To enjoy Him.
To reflect Him.
To walk with Him.
The chief end of man is not man.
And until we understand that, every other purpose we pursue will eventually disappoint us.
The Bucket List Is a Cover-Up
There is nothing inherently wrong with a bucket list.
Travel.
Adventure.
Learning.
Exploration.
New experiences.
These can all be good gifts.
But there is a subtle danger hidden beneath many bucket lists.
They can become a cover-up.
A distraction from the deeper question.
The problem isn’t that we want experiences.
The problem is that we sometimes expect experiences to do what only God can do.
Life abundant cannot be reduced to a list.
Jesus didn’t say:
“I came that they may have experiences.”
He said:
“I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” (John 10:10)
Abundant life is something altogether different.
It is deeper than excitement.
Deeper than entertainment.
Deeper than achievement.
Deeper than novelty.
The abundant life satisfies because it reconnects us to the One for whom we were created.
No bucket list can accomplish that.
No destination can accomplish that.
No experience can accomplish that.
The soul was designed for something greater.
What Does the Abundant Life Actually Look Like?
Ironically, abundant life often looks less glamorous than the lives we envy.
It looks like faithfulness.
It looks like courage.
It looks like generosity.
It looks like truth.
It looks like obedience.
It looks like repentance.
It looks like perseverance.
It looks like loving your neighbor.
It looks like enduring hardship.
It looks like finishing what God has given you to do.
The abundant life isn’t received through accumulation.
It’s received through surrender.
Not by getting more.
But by belonging to Christ.
The New Testament repeatedly points us in this direction.
Count all things as loss compared to Christ.
Train yourself for godliness.
Resist sin.
Speak truth.
Serve others.
Contend for the faith.
Complete your work.
These may never appear on someone’s bucket list.
Yet they are the very things that produce a rich and meaningful life.
The Expensive Search for Satisfaction
The same confusion appears in how we pursue recreation.
Many of us have become conditioned to believe that meaningful experiences must be expensive experiences.
The numbers suggest otherwise.
We spend more than previous generations on entertainment and recreation, yet often feel less connected and less satisfied.
Perhaps we’ve lost something.
You may remember a time when people gathered simply to spend time together.
Dinner.
Cards.
Conversation.
A backyard.
A game.
A front porch.
Relationship was the experience.
Today we often feel pressure to create memorable experiences through spending rather than through presence.
But some of life’s most meaningful moments cost almost nothing.
A family walk.
A backyard game.
A conversation around a table.
Helping a neighbor.
Watching the sunset.
Laughing with friends.
Being cheaply entertained is not merely about saving money.
It’s about recovering contentment.
It’s about discovering that joy can thrive without extravagance.
It’s about remembering that the best things in life often cannot be purchased.
The Green Olive Tree
Perhaps the best picture of a meaningful life comes from Psalm 52.
David writes:
“But I am like a green olive tree in the house of God; I trust in the steadfast love of God forever and ever.”
Notice what David chooses as his metaphor.
Not a mountain.
Not a king.
Not a warrior.
A tree.
A green olive tree.
The olive tree isn’t impressive because it grows quickly.
It’s impressive because it endures.
It survives drought.
It survives heat.
Its roots reach deep.
It bears fruit.
It provides nourishment.
It becomes a source of light.
That is the life Scripture commends.
Not flashy.
Not frantic.
Not constantly entertained.
Rooted.
Steady.
Fruitful.
Faithful.
The olive tree flourishes because of where it is planted.
The same is true for us.
The vitality of the soul comes from proximity to God.
We flourish when we remain rooted in His steadfast love.
Not because circumstances are favorable.
But because our source of life is secure.
What Is Worth Finishing?
As we grow older, a different question begins to emerge.
Not:
What should I start?
But:
What is worth finishing?
Many of us are excellent starters.
Ideas.
Projects.
Dreams.
Goals.
Plans.
But life eventually teaches us that not everything deserves our full attention.
The people who leave the deepest impact are rarely those who experienced the most.
They are often the people who remained faithful to what mattered most.
When the end comes, unfinished home projects matter very little.
Unfinished vacations matter very little.
Unfinished bucket lists matter very little.
What matters are the things that endure.
Faith.
Character.
Love.
Obedience.
Relationships.
The work God entrusted to us.
Simeon understood this.
He had one thing he longed to see before he died.
The Messiah.
When he finally held the Christ child in his arms, he was ready to depart in peace.
That was a bucket list worth having.
Final Thoughts
The world continually invites us to pursue happiness.
Scripture invites us to pursue something greater.
Not because happiness is wrong.
But because happiness is too small.
The soul was made for more than pleasure.
It was made for purpose.
It was made for worship.
It was made for abundant life.
It was made for God.
The irony is that when we stop demanding happiness from life, we often discover deeper joy than we imagined possible.
Not the fragile happiness that depends upon circumstances.
But the durable joy that grows like a green olive tree.
Rooted.
Fruitful.
Steady.
Alive.
And nourished by the steadfast love of God forever and ever.