Ever notice a recurring theme on Instagram? For me, it’s part Christian living, some graphic design, but mainly mom homesteaders, lol. My feed is filled with families embracing the country life—gardens overflowing, chickens roaming, food preservation tips, and endless outdoor play for the kids. While this might seem like a super niche interest, it’s actually a growing trend. The year 2020 shook up life as we knew it, and many families realized the city or suburban lifestyle wasn’t for them. So, they traded crowded streets for wide-open spaces and began sharing their stories online. And the appeal is undeniable: privacy, fresh air, fewer EMF-emitting cell phone towers—and the list goes on.

I recently came across a reel showing a wide-open field with the caption, “This is my kind of neighborhood.” I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. Ethan and I once lived on a mini farmstead in Pennsylvania, with acres of land to roam. Moving to Florida near the beach meant saying goodbye to that lifestyle. We downsized a lot, trading rural tranquility for coastal convenience. While I don’t miss everything about farm life, some parts still linger in my heart.

Then

• We had space but limited options with local churches.

• We had privacy but longer drives for groceries.

• We could host friends outdoors but they had to travel far to see us.

Now

• We are minutes from stores, restaurants, and the beach but also live near plenty of people in general.

• We’re close to stores and restaurants but sacrifice some privacy in our HOA community.

• Our friends and church family are nearby, but we don’t have the acreage to host large outdoor gatherings the way we used to.

The truth is, we all want it all. For some this may look like: land, community, and convenience. Watch any home-buying show, and you’ll see the dream—an expansive home and the perfect yard (albeit, varying definitions of perfect), all within a short commute. But Scripture reminds me to shift my focus. This world isn’t my forever home, and true contentment doesn’t come from Instagram-worthy living.

Ethan and I recently watched a show about the American frontier, chronicling families who risked everything to stake their claim out West, hoping to leave a legacy for future generations. But the reality was far from romantic—it was harsh and unforgiving. By the end of the first season, one family had lost a child, most of their possessions, and endured the heartbreaking loss of many companions. They did, however, achieve their dream of settling in a beautiful, wide-open space. The next season begins showing the same family several generations later. Their once-isolated homestead, surrounded by breathtaking mountain views and neighboring Native American tribes, had become crowded with people and livestock. My mind drifted to what life looks like now in some of these same places—land subdivided into neighborhoods, shopping malls, and used car lots.

The takeaway was sobering: not everyone gets the open spaces. God’s mandate to subdue the earth is clearly seen today but the dream of "having it all" isn’t feasible for most—and it always comes with a cost. The question is: what are you trading for your dream? Is it time, money, community, or convenience? I’ve spoken with women who have acres of farmland that long to simplify their life. Another woman mentioned how difficult the commute makes it to show hospitality in her own home. I’ve spoken with other women who live near our church but are in small homes. They long to have the acreage those other women have. Of course, this isn’t always the rule. There are certainly Christians who “get the best of both worlds” but what is often the case is that every dream has its price, and the tradeoff is typically unavoidable. And most certainly these tradeoffs are published on social media for the rest of us to see.

Social media can fuel discontentment with its perfectly curated glimpses into others’ lives but no single person has it all. While it’s not wrong to celebrate God’s creation or the beautiful spaces He’s given us, as consumers of this content, we need to keep our thoughts in check. Every desire must be held up to God’s Word. Does “my kind of neighborhood” also resemble the picture that was presented to me in the Instsagram reel? Yes! But I’ve learned to fix my eyes on what truly matters so as not to be deterred every time I see someone else “living the dream.” My hope isn’t built on a dream home or property but on Jesus Christ. Paul reminds us in Philippians 4:10-13:

I learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in abundance; in any and all things I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need. I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.

Our contentment isn’t found in the good or bad circumstances in life. It isn’t found in what God chooses to give or take away, physically speaking. The secret to contentment is abiding in Christ and resting in the good news of the Gospel that frees us from the entrapments of this world. We are no longer bound to the world’s system which promotes every different kind of version of happiness. We’ve been given true blessedness in Christ alone.

With all this in mind, I want to share about a visit we made to Pioneer Village while Ethan was at the Florida Baptist Convention. My brother’s wife and kids joined us, and together we stepped back in time. At first, my kids weren’t exactly thrilled. “So, we’re just going to walk around a bunch of old buildings?” they asked. But as we explored, they couldn’t help but find it interesting. The village features original structures from the 1890s, relocated and preserved through generous donations. Walking through history made us pause and appreciate how far we’ve come—and how contentment isn’t tied to the past or present but to trusting God in all seasons.