We are all searchers. From the moment we become self-aware, we begin a quiet, often subconscious, quest for meaning, for belonging, for something to fill a space inside us that feels undefined and empty. In our modern world, the options for filling that void appear endless. They glitter from our screens, call to us from stadiums, and promise us community in a thousand different digital and physical forms.
This search often leads us to develop powerful preoccupations, even obsessions. For some, it’s the siren call of a video game—an immersive world where they are the hero, where progress is measurable, and where every challenge overcome delivers a satisfying rush of dopamine. For others, it’s a hobby pursued with relentless passion, whether it’s mastering an instrument, perfecting a craft, or pushing their physical limits in a sport.
Perhaps the most common manifestation of this search is the phenomenon of modern fandom and hero worship. We construct pantheons of pop culture gods from the worlds of music, film, television, and sports. We perceive our favourite singer, actor, or athlete as a symbol of everything we admire: talent, beauty, strength, or success. We wear their jerseys, stream their music, and defend their honour in online forums. We invest our emotions in their victories and feel the sting of their defeats. In doing so, we feel part of something larger than ourselves—a tribe united by shared adoration.
These pursuits are not inherently wrong. They can bring genuine joy, provide a healthy escape, and foster community. The problem arises not from the activity itself, but from the weight we ask it to bear. We ask our hobbies to give us an ultimate identity. We ask our favourite celebrity to be our flawless paragon of virtue. We ask a video game to provide a sense of purpose that real life seems to lack.
And in time, the cracks begin to show.
The gamer pushes through to the final level, defeats the ultimate boss, and after the credits roll, is left sitting in the quiet darkness of their room, the same person they were when they started, the initial void still present. The passionate hobbyist masters their craft, only to find that the applause of others or their own satisfaction is fleeting. The law of diminishing returns sets in; the thrill of the “new” inevitably fades.
For the devoted fan, the disillusionment can be even more profound. Hero worship is, by its nature, a one-way relationship. We pour our energy, time, and emotion into a person who doesn’t know we exist. Our adoration is sent into an echo chamber, returning to us slightly fainter each time. Worse, we inevitably discover that our idols are tragically human. They make mistakes, reveal moral failings, grow old, or simply fade from the spotlight. When the hero falls, the pedestal we built for them shatters, and we are left to wonder why we placed our hopes on something so fragile.
These things—these hobbies, games, and celebrities—are finite. They are temporary distractions from a profoundly spiritual hunger. They are like trying to quench a deep thirst with a single drop of water. They can moisten our lips, but they can never satisfy the dehydration of the soul. The emptiness we feel is not a flaw in our design; it is a feature. It is a hollow space shaped perfectly for something infinite, eternal, and personal.
This is where a genuine relationship with the divine offers a radically different proposition. Unlike the one-way street of hero worship, a connection with God is fundamentally reciprocal. It is a relationship with a Creator who knows you intimately, who fashioned the very void you are trying to fill, and who desires to be in communion with you. Your thoughts, your prayers, and your love are not sent into a vacuum; they are received by a Being who responds with love, guidance, and peace.
Unlike the temporary high of a victory or the fleeting fame of a celebrity, the divine is constant and eternal. It offers a foundation of solid rock in a world of shifting sand. Your identity is no longer tied to your abilities, your successes, or the people you admire. Instead, it is anchored in the unshakeable truth that you are known, valued, and loved unconditionally by the source of all existence.
A relationship with the divine doesn’t just distract from the void; it fills it from the inside out. It addresses the core human needs for purpose, belonging, and unconditional love in a way no earthly preoccupation ever can. The joy it brings is not a temporary thrill but a deep and abiding peace that remains even when worldly circumstances are challenging.
It is natural to seek heroes and to lose ourselves in passions. But these are signposts, not destinations. They point toward a deeper human longing for transcendence, for connection, and for a love that will not fade or fail. The ultimate fulfilment we seek is not found in the hall of heroes we build for others, but in the quiet, sacred space where we can finally encounter the One who has been waiting for us all along.
Worldwide Temple of Aurora 