The Paradox of Desire

There’s a strange moment that happens when you finally receive what you once prayed and hoped for. At first, it feels like joy fulfilled like proof that waiting was worth it. But then, with time, you realize something else; you’ve grown past the very thing you once wanted so badly. The version of you that prayed, fasted, saved, and dreamed for it has shifted. What you chased with passion no longer fits the person you’ve become. And instead of fulfillment, a new longing rises.  While this doesn’t mean the gift is worthless, it often means your soul has outpaced your old desires and that’s okay.

Still, it makes you pause and ask: are our desires truly insatiable? Are we doomed to endlessly chase after something more, something just out of reach? Or could this restlessness be less of a burden and more of a whisper, an invitation pointing us back to the only One who satisfies?

In today’s fast-paced, ever-turning world, we often find ourselves chasing what feels distant, as though tomorrow owes us clarity. We carry hope like a credit slip, living “on tab,” postponing joy until the day our desires finally arrive. Yet in doing so, we trample past the sacred currency of the present, mismatching wants with true needs, exalting what glitters and dismissing what’s been graciously given. The truth is, what we hold now is neither small nor insufficient. It is provision, measured and meaningful. And unless we awaken to this consciousness of valuing the present, we risk mismanaging the very gifts placed in our care for today. Scriptures reminds us, “Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might” (Ecclesiastes 9:10). That means today matters. The task before you matter. The season you are in is not a placeholder, it is God’s stage for your growth, joy, and obedience.

The paradox of desire is this: God wired us with longings, but He never meant for our longings to be our master, neither is it up to us to fulfil every one of those desires. It is written;“He has also set eternity in the human heart” (Ecclesiastes 3:11), but with it comes the call to seek Him, as Scripture reminds us, “You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart” (Jeremiah 29:13).

These desires, by God, will stretch us, and drive us to achieve great things, but they are not the measure of our worth. They point us forward, but they are not the anchor of our joy. Only God Himself is enough. As Jesus said, “Your Father knows what you need before you ask Him” (Matthew 6:8).

So what if we learned to rest here—in the now? What if instead of anxiously striving for the next thing, we trusted that God is already in tomorrow, arranging the thickets, setting the stage, preparing the provision? Maybe contentment would no longer mean settling for less but learning to feast fully on what’s in front of us.

Tomorrow is not a surprise to Him. And today is not a waste for us. It is enough.