The Balance Sheet

I made a decision over fifteen years ago that changed the direction of my destination. And I think it's worth talking about — not because my path is the right path for everyone, but because we all crave human stories.

Each of us are wired differently, so please hear me when I say this: what follows is what worked for me. Your path may look completely different, and that's okay.

AI is going to bring a lot of positive things into our lives. But it's also a two-edged sword. The truth is we all still crave human stories — because they carry both successes and failures, and we can all relate to that.

Fifteen years ago I was at a crossroads. I'd been riding high, pursuing wealth as a tool for freedom. We were leveraged to the max and I had entered the luxury home building market with very little experience. I had some people I was modeling my path after, and I had some early success — but the timing was all wrong. The global market was getting ready to crash, and it was going to take me down with it.

And it did. It created a very uncomfortable season in our lives.

Once the dust started to settle, my good friend — who had been building alongside me on a similar path — was ready to get back on the horse and do it all over again. And truthfully, he's built that way. I am not. I love adventure, and I was way more risk-tolerant before the crash. My marriage had suffered. Our finances had suffered. My peace had suffered.

He jumped back in. I chose a slower route. Neither of us were wrong — just different paths for different designs.

Fast forward fifteen years. My friend has been very successful. He makes more in a month than most people make in a year. He has the big house, the new European cars, and could afford just about anything he wants. He handles it well. But it comes at a cost — he has to be present any time the phone rings, his stress level never really goes down, he's never fully off, and he manages a large organization every single day.

I opted for working toward my own definition of being rich — one that is centered around time freedom.

For me, that meant building systems that, over time, freed up my hours so I could devote them to important relationships, things I genuinely enjoyed and was drawn to, and ultimately walking out my God-given design and calling. That led to a smaller house. Older, paid-for cars. Reducing and eliminating debt wherever possible. Living below our means.

And just to be clear — this does not mean living in a forty-year-old van down by the river. Although if I were single, I could probably make that work. (My wife and teenagers, however, would not see that as a long-term lifestyle. Ha.)

The truth is, in today's culture and media, our view of wealth and "being rich" are often just carrots on a stick — carrots that keep the machine turning. I'm not against having things. I just don't want things to have me.

Think about it this way:

Many grandparents and parents are incredibly wealthy in the people they've raised — children who have entered the world and are contributing to it in meaningful ways. That's a kind of rich that can't be measured.

Many of us have a roof over our heads, a bed to sleep in, food in the kitchen, and clean water whenever we want it. By global standards, we are very rich.

Some even have access to medical and dental care to ease their hurts and pains. By global standards, that is extraordinary wealth. Some have a car. Some have a home for their car — a garage. Some have rooms that exist only to hold their clothes and extra things — closets. By global standards, they are very rich.

And ultimately, if you are alive today, healthy, and have people who love you — you are very rich.