There was a season in my life when this watch meant more to me than I wanted to admit.
It was a Montblanc TimeWalker Chronograph.
Clean. Professional. Beautiful.
To me, it looked like success.
At the time, it cost around $3,800. It was expensive, but not completely out of reach. I could have bought it, but I decided not to.
I made it my reward.
If I earned the next title at work, then I would buy the watch.
That was the deal I made with myself.
Looking back, that decision revealed far more about me than I understood at the time.
The Watch Wasn’t Just a Watch
Early in my career, I worked as a financial advisor at a major Wall Street firm.
Like many firms, success had a scoreboard.
Production mattered. Revenue mattered. Growth mattered. Recognition mattered. Titles mattered.
If you produced enough over a certain period of time, you could earn a higher title. And that title meant something to me.
It represented progress. Credibility. Respect. Arrival.
Somewhere along the way, that title became connected to this watch.
I remember going into the jewelry store more than once just to try it on. I would put it on my wrist and imagine what it would feel like when the title was finally mine.
In my mind, the two belonged together.
The title would be on my business card.
The watch would be on my wrist.
And both would quietly say:
I made it.
That is hard to admit, but it is true.
The watch was not just a watch. The title was not just a title.
Together, they had become symbols of identity.
The Problem Wasn’t Ambition
Here is something I have come to believe:
Many people don’t build the wrong life because they are lazy. They build it because they are disciplined in the wrong direction.
That is an important distinction.
Most people are not trying to waste their lives. They are working hard, making plans, setting goals, providing for their families, serving clients, raising kids, paying bills, answering emails, and trying to be responsible.
From the outside, it can look admirable.
And often, it is.
But a life can be impressive and still be misaligned.
You can be productive and still be drifting.
You can be disciplined, focused, ambitious, and respected — and still be building around the wrong definition of success.
That is one of the hardest truths for high-capacity people to accept.
Because ambition is not the enemy. Discipline is not the enemy. Goals are not the enemy.
The problem is not having goals.
The problem is when your goals become disconnected from your purpose.
The Wrong Scoreboard
Most people do not realize they are building from the wrong blueprint because the wrong blueprint is usually rewarded.
Culture rarely tells you to waste your life.
It simply hands you a scoreboard that is too small.
Earn more.
Climb higher.
Buy better.
Stay busy.
Be admired.
Look successful.
Keep up.
Achieve enough that people notice.
None of those things are automatically wrong.
Money can provide for a family, create options, fund generosity, reduce stress, and expand impact. Career success can reflect diligence, excellence, leadership, and service. A nice home, a good income, meaningful achievement, and a strong reputation can all be gifts.
The danger comes when good things become ultimate things.
Money is useful, but it makes a terrible identity.
Career success is meaningful, but it makes a fragile source of worth.
Achievement can open doors, but it cannot tell you what your life is for.
Approval can encourage you, but it makes a dangerous architect.
Maybe This Is You
Maybe your scoreboard is not a watch or a title.
Maybe it is a promotion you have been chasing for years. Maybe it is a certain income level, a retirement number, a house, a business milestone, a client growth goal, or the quiet desire to be seen as successful by people whose approval matters more than you want to admit.
Maybe you are in your twenties, working hard to prove you belong.
Maybe you are in your thirties or forties, trying to provide a good life for your family — but the definition of “good life” keeps getting more expensive, more demanding, and less peaceful.
Maybe you are in your fifties or sixties and have achieved much of what you once hoped for, but you are quietly asking questions you did not expect to ask:
Why does this not feel more fulfilling?
Why do I still feel restless?
What was all of this for?
Or maybe you are retired or approaching retirement, and for the first time in decades the career scoreboard is fading. The title does not carry the same meaning. The calendar is changing.
The question is no longer only:
What can I achieve?
It is becoming:
Who am I now? What kind of legacy am I building?
Those questions can feel unsettling. But they are also a gift. They are invitations to stop letting culture define success for you.
When I Finally Bought the Watch
Eventually, I earned the title.
And I bought the watch.
There was some excitement, of course. I had worked hard. I had reached the goal. I had followed through on the reward I had promised myself.
But the feeling was not what I expected.
The build-up had been greater than the moment.
The anticipation had been more powerful than the possession.
I had imagined the watch would feel like arrival.
Instead, it felt strangely empty.
That emptiness taught me something I did not yet have language for:
The wrong scoreboard can still produce real achievement.
You can hit the goal. You can earn the title. You can buy the thing. You can receive the praise.
And still, somewhere beneath it all, your soul can whisper:
Is this it?
The problem was not the watch.
I still have it. It sits in our safe now. I rarely wear it, maybe once or twice a year. And because it is an automatic watch, it does not use a battery. It is powered by movement.
So whenever I finally decide to wear it, I have to shake it around to get it going again and then spend several minutes setting the right time and date.
There is something almost poetic about that.
The very thing I once thought would symbolize arrival now sits still most of the year, needing to be shaken awake whenever I decide to wear it.
Every time I see it, I am reminded:
My purpose is not in a title.
My identity is not in a business card.
My worth is not sitting in a safe.
I was created for more than a watch and a title.
Urgency Is Loud. Importance Is Quiet.
The scoreboard started to change when I became a father.
When I came home from work, my kids did not care what title I had earned. They did not care how much revenue I had generated. They did not care what watch was on my wrist, what my email signature said, or whether anyone at the office thought I was successful.
To them, I was Daddy.
And that was enough.
There is something clarifying about a child’s love. Children do not ask about your production numbers before running to the door. They do not evaluate your resume before wanting your attention.
They just want you.
Your presence. Your joy. Your eyes looking at them instead of through them.
And there were times when I came home physically present but emotionally absent. My body was in the room, but my mind was still at work — replaying conversations, solving problems, tracking goals, planning the next step.
Kristi could tell.
She would say something gentle like, “Is everything okay at work? You seem focused on something else right now.”
It was her kind way of saying:
You are here, but you are not really with us.
That was hard to hear.
But I needed to hear it.
Because it is possible to provide for your family financially while starving them emotionally.
It is possible to be admired by people outside your home while the people inside your home receive what is left over.
Not because you do not love them.
But because urgency is loud and importance is quiet.
Work rings. Family waits.
Email interrupts. Prayer waits.
Clients call. Health waits.
Deadlines demand. Marriage waits.
Notifications buzz. Children wait.
The urgent rarely needs help getting onto your calendar.
The important almost always does.
The Stewardship Reframe
This is where stewardship changes the question.
Ownership asks:
What do I want?
Stewardship asks:
What has been entrusted to me?
Ownership asks:
How much can I get?
Stewardship asks:
How can I faithfully manage what I have been given?
Ownership asks:
How do I look successful?
Stewardship asks:
Who am I becoming?
That question changes everything.
It changes how you see your calendar. Your time is not merely yours to spend. It is entrusted.
It changes how you see your family. They are not obstacles to success. They are central to your stewardship.
It changes how you see your body. Health is not vanity. It is capacity for calling.
It changes how you see your money. Wealth is not identity. It is a tool for provision, generosity, freedom, and impact.
It changes how you see work. Career is not the place where you prove your worth. It is one arena where you practice faithfulness.
The wrong life is not always built through bad things.
Sometimes it is built through good things placed in the wrong position.
Blueprint Practice
This week, take 30 minutes for what I call a Scoreboard Audit.
Write down what your current life seems to be measuring.
Not what you say matters most.
What your calendar, spending, stress, ambition, energy, and attention reveal.
Ask yourself:
- What gets my best energy?
- What receives my leftovers?
- What am I chasing right now, and what do I believe it will give me?
Then write one sentence:
If I keep building my life around this definition of success, I may eventually…
Finish it honestly.
Then write a second sentence:
A more faithful definition of success would include…
That is not a complete life plan.
But it is a beginning.
And awareness is where stewardship begins.
Reflection Questions
- What am I currently using to measure success?
- Where has urgency been crowding out what is truly important?
- What goal, purchase, title, or milestone have I expected to give me a sense of arrival?
- Where am I physically present but emotionally absent?
- What would change if I saw my time, family, body, money, work, and influence as entrusted rather than owned?
An Invitation Into the Journey
This is one of the ideas I am exploring as I write The Stewardship Blueprint: Lifestyle by Design — Design Your Life, Steward Your Resources, and Build a Legacy That Matters.
Not because I have mastered it.
Because I am still learning it.
I am learning that success is not the same as alignment. Achievement is not the same as stewardship. And a full calendar is not the same as a faithful life.
The watch still reminds me.
Discipline matters. But direction matters more.
You were created for more than a title, a possession, or the approval of others.
You were created to steward a life that matters.
Community Discussion Question
What is one “watch and title” moment in your life — a goal, purchase, achievement, or milestone you thought would feel like arrival, but didn’t?
Comment below.