Yesterday I had the privilege of speaking at a breakfast for Macarthur Chapel’s Men’s Ministry, in the south-west of Sydney. I spoke about conviction—the power of a belief that has been tested and proven true. I shared a couple of my own convictions, one of which was a lesson I’ve learnt about success.

It’s the product we all want to buy, isn’t it? In business or sport, as a parent or spouse, we all want to succeed. It’s as if the concept has been written into our DNA. But what really is success? If I was to start the sentence, ‘Success is ….’, how would you finish it?

When I ask this question the common replies I get include, ‘Success is being happy’, ‘reaching my goals’, ‘moving forward and not stagnating’. A former colleague once replied, ‘Success is achieving prosperity in all areas of life—spiritual, physical, financial and relational’.

But what makes a successful success definition? What about when we are not happy? Are we then failures? What about when our goals are not reached, when our dreams lie shattered, when our bank statement points south?

The question is all the more important when you realise that success is normally measured with the ruler of comparison. Think about it. Which looks more successful: the CEO of a multinational company, or an abattoir worker? A family with three kids, an SUV and a nice home in the suburbs, or a single mum pushing a borrowed stroller down the street? Who looks more successful: Robbie Williams or Barry Manilow?

In my second year of Bible College I had to take a break from my studies. I had developed acute insomnia; the doctors said I was emotionally exhausted and needed rest. What was really causing my exhaustion was overwork, motivated by an unhealthy comparison. Somehow I had determined that my college principal was the standard of success. And why not? Here was a man who directed an entire learning institution, sat on a handful of director’s boards, undertook international speaking engagements and, of all things, helped run a chain of furniture stores as well. (Back then I didn’t even think to include that he was a husband and father too.) ‘Surely, Sheridan’, I thought, ‘if he can do all that, you can at least handle your studies, a little radio work, some counselling training and a part time job’.

Well, no, I couldn’t. And one evening at midnight I arrived on my parent’s doorstep asking for my old bed back. I took a few weeks off, returned to a part-time study load and stepped down as a student leader. I felt like a failure. And it was all because of comparison.

Looking back I can see now that God was trying to teach me what true success was, to find a definition that wasn’t based on comparison; a type of success that’s unrelated to whether you’re a CEO or an abattoir worker; a kind of success which is more gift than accomplishment.

There’s a wonderful story told about Jesus of Nazareth. On one occasion he sent a group of his followers on a welfare mission, giving them supernatural ability to cure diseases and expel evil forces. The team went out, then returned to Jesus bursting with excitement. ‘Wow!’ they said, ‘even the demons submit to us in your name!’ They were tasting success, seeing terminal illnesses cured and spiritual oppression released.

‘That’s good,’ Jesus replied. ‘However,’ and here came the great lesson, ‘don’t just rejoice that the demons submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.’ (Luke 10:17-20)

Amidst the fireworks, the results, the accomplishments Jesus says, in effect, ‘Guys, this is true success: that your name is written in heaven’s book in God’s handwriting.’

See, trophies, promotions, results—we’ll experience varying quantities of these throughout our lives. But a far better offer is made to us. Our names can be written into heaven’s roll call, with ink that can’t be erased. Getting listed has nothing to do with achievement, but following the One whose name quashes demonic forces and calms roaring storms. It’s a kind of success that can never be taken from us, and a success that frees us to work and achieve without the pressure to measure up.

Yes, it’s my conviction that true success is more a gift than accomplishment.