Sutton Turner spent his first 35 years accumulating everything a man could want: a successful business, a beautiful wife and kids, a golf swing, lots of money, and plenty of free time to enjoy the finer things. But he could not buy enough, earn enough, or drink enough to escape the haunting question: What’s the point?
From childhood, I had set my sights on achieving goals, mostly related to all the stuff I wanted. By the time I entered business school in the late 90s, my bucket list had grown: I wanted nothing short of my own little kingdom over which to preside in perfect luxury and happiness.
Then a strange thing happened: all of my wildest dreams started to come true.
I neglected my family to pursue other things, but I convinced myself that as soon as we had the ranch, the vacation home, and $1 million cash in the bank, I would turn my attention back to them.
We got all of those things, and guess what? I turned to drinking instead. I was 35. I had already accomplished everything I had set out to do in life. But rather than feeling satisfied, I was miserable. At least with alcohol, I could get a nice buzz and escape the crazy life I had created.
In 2005, I left home and spent $30,000 to go hunting in Africa, in search of meaning yet again. Before I left, Marci, my wife, had one request. “Come with me to church,” she asked. I fought. I didn’t want to. I didn’t need to. Three days before I left, I gave in. I wasn’t going to like it, but I’d go.
When the pastor took the stage, however, something began to stir in my heart. I was interested. Intrigued.