Sean David Ealy

The great circus revolutionary P.T. Barnum comes to an epiphany at the end of the musical The Greatest Showman. For years he had been chasing the glimmering lights of fame and success, trying to fill an inner need that had been there since he was a child. Growing up as the son of a poor and ordinary tailor, Barnum had learned how it felt to be scorned by the upper crust society. He wanted something more for his family, and so grew in him an ambition that eventually took him places he had never dreamed. Yet the bright lights of glory only left him to realize that he had somehow lost his way.

In the moving song, From Now On, Barnum (played by Hugh Jackman) laments of how “for years and years I chased their cheers…the crazy speed of always needing more” and how “a man learns who is there for him when the glitter fades and the walls won’t hold”. He’s coming to an understanding now that the dream he was chasing only left him alone and out of touch with what was really important to him – his family.

King Solomon came to the same realization in the book of Ecclesiastes.

“I denied myself nothing my eyes desired,” he wrote. “I refused my heart no pleasure.” (Ecclesiastes 2:10)

He was the king and he had everything. Food. Silver. Land. Riches beyond belief. But what did it gain him?

“Yet when I surveyed all that my hands had done and what I had toiled to achieve, everything was meaningless, a chasing after the wind. Nothing was gained under the sun.” (Ecclesiastes 2:11)

How many of us have come to the same realization? Or perhaps a more appropriate question might be: how many of us are still chasing after the wind?

Growing up, I knew what it felt like to be poor. My dad hurt his back working for the railroad, and we struggled while he was in transition between healing and finding a new career. We always had food on our plate, but I watched as my dad worked himself to death so we could make ends meet. I saw how it wore him down, both physically and emotionally, and how he withdrew little by little into his pain and disappointment with life.

I swore I would never end up like that.

What grew in me was an ambition that fueled a desire to succeed at any cost. To rise above the station of life I was born into and become somebody with purpose. To do something important. I fostered the work ethic I learned from my dad and, where he turned away from risk and uncertainty, I plunged myself into it with all I had.

With each step on the ladder I climbed, I thought I would find something that would satisfy the longing I felt inside my soul. I put a strain on my marriage and relationships by always striving for more. As soon as I began to feel comfortable, it was time to pivot into another adventure. Constantly trying to achieve something.

Eventually I realized the hole I was trying to fill still remained, no matter how much I accomplished.

This was my vice. Yours might be something else. Alcohol. Drugs. Sex. Food. All of these things can become a substitute for the joy we deeply long for, but don’t know how to find. We long for something more, to be satisfied and content with our place in this life. We settle for little pleasures that numb the pain of the longing we feel inside.

The problem with vices is that it takes more and more to numb what’s going on inside. Soon they become addictions that control our lives and sink us deeper into despair.

Barnum learned this the hard way. His wife left him. He hurt the very friends he cared about most. His career literally went up in ashes. But in this moment of defeat he came to an epiphany that would put him back on the right track.

Sitting in a pub, sulking in sorrow, we see a man who has come to the end of himself. He is alone. Destitute. Drowning himself in pity. The door opens and suddenly he is surrounded by the cast mates of his circus, the outcasts who had once been his friends. He has realized that he used each one of them in his quest for “something more” and that he certainly doesn’t deserve their forgiveness. And yet here they are in his time of need.

“From now on,” he promises, “my eyes will not be blinded by the lights.”

Strengthened by the support of his friends, he suddenly knows what he needs to do. He will go after his wife and daughters. He will pick up the pieces of his broken life, but with renewed purpose.

“But when I stop and see you here,” Barnum sings, “I remember who all this was for.”

Our lives were meant for purpose. The hole we feel in our heart can come from many things. Broken homes. Disappointment. Unrealistic expectations.

We live in a broken world.

But underneath this brokenness there is also a longing for Eden, for the paradise we were created to live in. Solomon, in all his wisdom, realized that “God has set eternity in the human heart.” Eternity echoes in our souls.

This longing was set in our hearts by the living God with the expectation that it would drive us to him.

Barnum and King Solomon both learned that their efforts to fill this void though material things was meaningless.

I still find myself reaching sometimes for what might just lie on the other side of the fence. Another career. Another title. Another town. But God is faithful. He reminds me that I need not cling to anything but him. My identify is found in him alone, not in a title or possessions. Gently he coaches me to turn to him and follow. To draw closer and find peace.

Anything else is a chasing after the wind.

Be well.