You can't have trust without taking a risk

We value being trusted; it's a mark of a good relationship. Conversely, we don't like being distrusted, or the sense of suspicion that comes with it, for this strongly undermines a relationship - we become guarded, careful about what we share, less open and more distant.

There is another part of us that wants to be certain about things, to know for sure. We are wary when we don’t know all the details - are we being ‘taken for a ride’, is there something hidden and not being shared, is there something underhand going on?

But there is a paradox involved in holding the above two common characteristics together, which is at root a battle between love, which is willing to take the risk of trusting, and power, which controls and minimises any risk of threat and not knowing.

Think of a close personal relationship: in order to build trust the people in that relationship need to act in trustworthy and consistent ways as trust develops. Even once there is a considerable degree of trust, the people in the relationship do not know everything about the other, or even need to know everything - for there is willingness to trust that the other’s attitude and actions will be loving without our trying to exert any control over them.

Such confidence and trust is not based on full knowledge or on power, but rather on shared values and experience, and a willingness to believe in the other’s benevolence.

Now think of the national security services: their business is not trusting, but gaining all the possible information about others that they can, just in case there is some deception or latent hostility or threat to be uncovered. When this intelligence gathering is aimed at political or military enemies, the mutual distrust may make such intelligence gathering understandable, even necessary for self-protection. But where this takes place between allies, or is directed towards ‘innocent third parties’, then this is not a benign protecting against threat; it destroys trust, builds suspicion and increases the level of threat!

The paradox is that we must take the risk of trusting another in order to get close to them and build a safer world. Where we seek to eliminate that risk, then we inevitably endanger relationships and increase the level of threat.

Those who say they act in our best interest to protect us whilst also spying on us, may or may not be sincere, but either way they are mistaken. For you cannot have trust without taking a risk, and you cannot have security without a good deal of trust.

Do what makes you anxious, not what makes you depressed

Many times a day, probably without even noticing it, we face a repeated choice: to tackle something new or to avoid it; to take on something that we aren't sure we can do, or to stay with the safe limits of the familiar; to go forward or to stay secure.

In fact, we almost certainly have a general 'stance' in life, a strong tendency towards one or pole or the other: to risk moving forward despite being unsure of the outcome, or to stay with what we already know.

Some examples:

• will we talk to that stranger who we'd like to get to know, or not?
• will we try a new task on the computer we haven't attempted before and we're not sure we can do, or will we ask someone else to do it?
• will we push ourselves to the limit in the test we are taking and find out what we can really achieve? or will we settle for a safe 'good enough'?

There are pros and cons for both stances.

Those who remain within known boundaries value security and familiarity, and within these bounds feel safe, comfortable and confident. However, in time they may also feel bored, that they are not growing, are not being challenged, are not learning anything new. Safety may well turn in time to low self-esteem and perhaps even to depression (2).

Those who are inclined towards tacking new things, stretching themselves, even laying themselves on the line in some way, learn more about themselves and the world, but will also sometimes make a fool of themselves and are likely to be familiar with failing from time to time. They are also very likely to feel a degree of anxiety: can they do this? will they succeed or fail? For any time we attempt something new there is a degree of anxiety, of risk of failing.

But in time anxiety leads to growth, to new learning and skills, and also to greater confidence - a confidence not based on a brittle self-concept of 'safe success', but on the deeper knowledge that we can survive, even grow, through failure. (See my post: 'In praise of failure'.)

At bottom, the choice is between stretching ourselves and growing, or staying safe and stagnating; choosing between doing things that make us anxious and doing things that may in time lead to depression.

There is something to bear in mind about the degree of risk to take: the key principle being to take small, manageable risks - to experience some anxiety but not overwhelming panic. So if you are of a cautious predisposition, take small 'baby steps' of risk until you gain enough confidence to take bigger steps. But if you are awaiting a time when you won't feel anxious before taking some new step, you will wait forever!

Choose to do what makes you anxious, but don't do what will make you depressed.

_______
(1) Title: quote attributed to James Lincoln Collier
(2) I don't mean to imply that everyone who is depressed has been down this path; there are other reasons why people get depressed. But when avoidant behaviour becomes a repeated pattern, then it is a good 'recipe' for depression.

There's nothing magical about faith

Many people talk about faith as if it's something they happen to have, or, more frequently something they don't have; that's just the way it is. After all how can you believe something when you don't?

This apparent quality of faith provides a stumbling block to those who would like to believe and an invulnerable opt-out to those who don't. We have reached a stalemate, a seeming dead end.

But there's nothing magical about faith - we all use it every day. There is no dead-end, and the opt-out clause is a cop-out.

Consider trust. How do we learn to trust something or someone - or to not trust them? It simply comes from experience; trust grows or diminishes based on our repeated experience. We use it all the time: to consider whether our train will be on time, whether the cash-machine will give us the money we request, or whether a friend will stand by us through difficult times. You are showing your faith, or lack of faith, in your train service, your bank and your friend.

So, is faith just the same as trust? Well, yes and no.

Trust starts with a decision - a small decision to take a small risk - in fact, frequently so small we usually don't even notice it. Think about the simple examples above. The first time I put my bank card in a hole in the wall I am taking a small leap of faith to believe that it won't swallow my card and will give me my cash. I only have the experience of others to go on, so I am deciding to put my faith in them and my bank that it will actually work. And as I repeat this experience, I discover for myself that my bank is trustworthy, or not; that the trains usually run on time, or they don't; that my friend really is a good friend, or not.

But notice where trust starts - it starts with an act of faith, a decision to take a risk. Faith is deciding to trust what we haven't yet experienced. Once we have taken that step of faith, decided to take the risk, then we have the beginnings of experience, which in time may become trust. So doesn't all trust stem from an initial leap of faith - deciding to act before we know for sure? It applies to your bank and to your friend. And it applies to Christianity too.

So you can decide that you don't want to take a risk, don't want to take a step of faith, but you really can't say that you just don't have faith and there's nothing you can do about it... That really is a cop out.