One of the most simultaneously fascinating and disturbing scientific experiments I’ve ever encountered involved wiring directly into the pleasure centers of rats. Essentially, the researchers could give the rats an incredible high anytime the researchers flipped a switch. Next, they let the rats give themselves a high. And predictably, as soon as the rats figured out the routine, that’s all they wanted to do. Some rats literally starved to death while spending their life doing nothing but flipping on their pleasure switch. One variation had two switches that worked only if the rats alternated between them. In the middle, researchers added an electrified plate that shocked their feet every time they crossed it. In spite of some pretty serious pain, the allure of pleasure on the other end was enough to drive them across until they eventually passed out.

Somewhere in our early development we come to a basic awareness of the law of diminishing returns. “When I turn 6,” we thought at some point, “and I get that toy, that’ll do it for me.” Until it got broken or old or boring. More birthdays, more presents, more life, and the longing is still always there.

Unfortunately, we often fail to put that raw observation into a biblical conceptual framework. For the most part, we tend to assume a set of tossed together notions:

1) Pleasure is either sinful or vapidly pointless. Basically, Christians are allowed to have fun here and there, though the really good Christians have probably moved past that.

2) Fulfillment is totally separate and different from pleasure. Fulfillment is the bigger, deeper, and more Christian notion.

3) Good Christians (or even moderately passable Christians for that matter) should be fulfilled, meaning not struggling with sadness or discontent and definitely always 100% happy. By all means, if you’re struggling emotionally, don’t talk about it or if you must, put a spiritual spin on it.

So let me just confess: I’m not fulfilled; not completely anyway. I still have a longing within that I yearn to fulfill. It’s a longing that I’m regularly tempted to fill with things and experiences and relationships. But I always come up empty.

That could be because I’ve not yet reached where I should be in my Christian walk—something I do in fact know to be true about myself. (And so should you!) But I think something bigger is going on. Let me suggest an alternative model of pleasure and fulfillment.

1. Pleasure is good and a gift from the hand of God (Eccl. 2:24-25; 3:12-13, 22; 5:18-20; 8:15). In fact, part of the argument of Ecclesiastes is that keeping God’s commandments is the best way to maximize your enjoyment of life and mitigate some of the unavoidable pain and sorrow of life (Eccl. 9:7-9; 11:9-10; 12:1, 13-14).

We ought to embrace joy. I could say that I ate today for theological reasons. But the truth is that I did it because I was hungry and I care much for the feeling. I could have chosen any number of meals that were technically more nutritious and tasted terrible. But in fact I expended extra time and money getting food I liked. And why? Because it was fun to eat. The same goes for any number of things from why I enjoy a good night’s sleep to why I prefer cool clothes in the summer

God could have created us, after all, to eat food that always tasted the same. But he didn’t. He filled the world with an immense variety of tastes and textures, seemingly just for the sheer delight we find in eating them. It’s not just okay to enjoy these things. It’s good, and positively Christian.

2. Complete fulfillment never happens in this lifetime. Not for Christians. Not for really, really good Christians. Not for anyone. We all come up with a longing within that never gets answered (Eccl. 6:7). It’s a normal part of the human experience for everybody. For believers, it’s what drives us to long for the return of our Savior (Rev. 22:20).

3. Both the power of joy and the frustration of incomplete fulfillment were created for a reason. As C.S. Lewis writes in Screwtape Letters, only God can create true joy; the pleasures of sin are just a distorted knock-off. We want to enjoy pleasure because God made us that way, and it isn’t an accident. But it’s also clear that the longing is on purpose too (Eccl. 3:11, 14). In other words, I ought to be pondering life and wondering why it can be so much fun while on the other hand it never quite reaches to the deepest core of my being (Eccl. 8:15-17).

And the answer is powerful. As a pointer to Himself, God filled the world with joys. Legitimate joys. Beautiful joys. Things it would be only an insult not to delight in as given by His hand. But the gifts point to the giver. Call them breadcrumbs, all leading back clearly and inexorably to one place. And lest we think that meaning is found in wandering about, gathering breadcrumbs, He also gave us a deeper longing that can’t be filled on earth. Something that we carry with us all our days on planet earth and come closest to fulfilling when we’re closest to Him. But the meaning of faith and hope is that we don’t have it all yet. We’re still waiting to fill the longing of our hearts.

So go, enjoy the beauty of life. It’s supposed to be beautiful and fun. It’s a pointer to the true source and to eternity. If you think life is fun now, just wait. And when, in spite of the beauty, you’re still left with a longing, know that longing is part of His plan too. It keeps you from loving the gift more than the giver. Let the longing drive you to Him, the source of all right pleasures, and the One we will perfectly enjoy for all eternity