In March of 2011
I found myself with 4 of my friends in a brightly colored room, sitting in
hammocks after a very long day of travel. The windows, which only had bars on them,
allowed the night sounds of the jungle to waft in on a cool breeze. This moment
was the culmination of months of dreaming, planning, doubt, failure,
recruiting, fundraising, success, positive affirmation, and stress. My friends
and I had just arrived at the Dyer Rural Hospital in the mountain village of
Rio Viejo, Honduras for a weeklong mission trip that I was leading. I had spent
the previous night unable to sleep, smoking cigarette after cigarette in between
episodes of SCRUBS worried that one more obstacle would arise and end the trip
before it even started.
But now, we had
made it. Our bags were unpacked in the dormitory below and we were talking with
the hospital’s staff about the work we would be doing over the next few days.
That night I heard a phrase that has stayed with me for almost 5 years now.
While explaining on why a mission hospital has fees for its services, Dr.
Martin Williams, the hospital’s founder and main physician, said, “Everything
that is valuable has a price. Everything that has a price is valuable”. The
price/value equilibrium is why the word obsession
often carries a negative connotation. In most people’s personal lexicons obsession
simply implies a price that is too high to pay.
C.T. and the
dirtbags certainly would certainly agree with Dr. Martin. They put a high value
on their obsessions and pay a very high price in pursuing them. After dying on
the operating table 3 times during emergency open-heart surgery, C.T. Fletcher
was advised to never lift weights again, literally at the pain of death. But, he
was obsessed with being a great power lifter. So, he returned to the gym,
stating he’d rather die doing what he loved to do than live without being able
to do what he loved. Dirtbags frequently sacrifice their comfort and physical
health in the pursuit of their obsession. They face inclement weather and inherent
physical peril for days on end to reach previously unreached summits.
There also is a
hard-and-fast monetary cost to pursuing passions. Jay Cutler, a former Mr.
Olympia and contemporary of C.T. claims that he spends over $100,000 a year on
food and supplements in order to be a professional bodybuilder. Part
of the reason dirtbags choose to live out of their cars, other than the freedom
of mobility, is that having a mortgage simply isn't an option. The quality and quantity climbing gear needed to become an
elite level climber costs THOUSANDS of dollars and is in constant need to be
repaired and replaced, the money just isn't there to have gear and a home.
When identifying
our own magnificent obsessions we run the risk of pursuing things that either
have too little value or too high of price. The first seems to be the more
obvious one to me. Obsessions are by definition costly, so if I state that my
‘magnificent obsession’ is getting out of bed before 10am and brushing my teeth
twice during each 24-hour period I’m alive, it’s achievement will have very
little value to me, like a dime store trophy given out to participants who
simply showed up. That ‘obsession’ would require too little from me: only a small
amount of devotion and sacrifice. Small price can only carry with it a small amount
of value, plain and simple.
With the help of
hindsight I am able to admit I have much more experience with the second
pitfall: finding that continuing in the pursuit of my obsession comes at a
price that is higher than I am willing to pay. I spent three years of my life
attempting to be accepted into medical school. In monetary terms I spent
thousands of dollars on post-baccalaureate classes at the tech school and the
university in my city, took the MCAT twice (at $300 a time plus additional
money for study materials), and spent hundreds of dollars on submitting the
applications themselves. I spent hours of my time attending and studying for
classes, writing essays for applications, and pursuing extracurricular
activities that would improve my application. I did all of that work, spent all
of that money, devoted all of that time, and even got a medically themed tattoo
on my arm only to be rejected by all the schools I applied to, twice. After the
second round of rejection letters arrived I took a few months to look at what I
would need to do to improve myself as an applicant. It honestly was
overwhelming. I had run out of motivation and the cost of pursuing entry into
medical school or any other job in the medical field was too high. That
experience reminds me of a parable of Jesus that is recounted in the Gospel of
Luke. Jesus was addressing people who wished to be His disciples and He advised
them to understand the cost that pursuit carries.
Which of you, desiring to build a tower,
does not first sit down and count the cost, whether he has enough to complete
it? Otherwise, when he has
laid a foundation and is not able to finish, all who see it begin to mock him,
saying, ‘This man began to build and was not able to finish.’
--Luke
14:28-30 ESV—
This truth also
applies to the pursuit of magnificent obsessions that are truly worth our time:
What
will the cost be? What will it require of us?
Are
we able and willing to pay that cost?
In
the end, will they be worth it?
