Decisions, decisions, decisions

A decision is a decision is a decision. Right?

Wrong! A decision is a whole process in itself and we often mistake an idea or an intention for a decision.

Making a decision is a surprisingly protracted process. It involves something like this:

1. Notice an idea - someone else's idea, or an idea of our own
2. Weigh the idea; is it a good idea? a bad idea?
3. If it's a good idea, is it a practical or impractical idea? [... so far we just have an idea...]
4. If it's a practical idea, consider who might enact it; is this idea something that someone might do, or that I might actually do?
5. Do I want to do it? [... now we have a 'good idea' that I'm interested in...]
6. If I want to do it, is it just a 'good idea' or something I actually intend to do? [... now the idea may become an intention, but it's still not yet a decision...]
7. If I intend to do this, when might I do it: sometime? soon? or now? [... now we may be getting close to a decision, though if the answer to this question is 'sometime' it's still just an intention...]
8. I will do it on Thursday. [... now we have a decision!]
9. I will do it on Thursday, in the time I have before I collect the kids from school. [... and now we have a decision and a plan.]

Of course, not every decision involves all such steps or necessarily in this particular order, but I hope the general process is clear: we move from an idea, to an intention, to a decision, to a plan, and finally to action.

Moreover, we tend in natural speech and thought, to include plenty of 'loopholes' in our (apparent) decisions. For example:

• "I really ought to go and see my parents" is not yet a decision, merely a recognition that I ought to do so.
• "I really must lose some weight" is not yet a decision; saying you 'must' is merely a strong way of saying this is a good idea, but it's not yet a decision.
• "I think I'll get some work done on my project today" is not yet a decision, as it's merely stating that you're thinking about doing some work on the project today.

Now you may think that I'm being terribly picky about such small words, as we all know what these phrases mean. The trouble is, that's true. We all know - including ourselves - that these are the kind of things we say to sound like we're making a decision, when inwardly we know full well that we have no real intention of following through on them!

And yet we still wonder why these 'decisions' don't convert into actions, and probably beat ourselves up for having so little self-discipline. But actually, we had never decided to do any of them in the first place.

So, let's be honest with ourselves. Next time you hear someone - or, more importantly, yourself - use phrases like those above, you might wonder whether what is voiced is just a good idea, or an intention, or whether it is actually an 'I'm-going-to-do-this' decision. They are not the same!

Of course, there are many good ideas around, and we all know that 'the road to hell is paved with good intentions'; it may also have some bearing on why some 'decisions to follow Christ' don't get very far ...

Do you trust yourself?

Trust comes from repeated experience. The more times we experience someone else following through on their promises, etc., the more we come to trust them. Equally, when we experience them not doing what they said they would do, trust quickly evaporates.

Has it ever occurred to you that this applies to yourself? I don't mean how others see you, but it applies in how you see yourself!

Think of all those times you have said to yourself "I'll do that tomorrow" but not done it, or "I really am going to cut down on eating junk food" but not followed through. Well if you heard someone else coming out with all these fine sounding but empty promises, would you trust them over such matters? Me neither!

So it's not very surprising if we end up not trusting ourselves...

At the very same moment as we are saying "I'll do that tomorrow", there is another, quieter, voice in our head saying something like "that'll never happen", or "who do you think you are kidding?". And very soon we don't believe a word we say. Empty words, empty promises, from an untrustworthy character - the person in the mirror! You may fool others some of the time, but will you really fool yourself?

So, along with losing trust in oneself, self-esteem also goes out of the window. You look at yourself and see a person whose word means nothing. No-one else believes you, and you don't even believe yourself.

Do you know how to regain trust in yourself?

Trust grows, albeit slowly, from repeated experience that someone is trustworthy. So, if you were to follow through on something you said you'd do, that is the beginning. Hence it is much better for us to say we'll do something really small and achieve it, than to say we'll do something much more significant and fail to reach it. For example, it's better to decide to do 2 hours work today and achieve that, than to say we'll do 8 hours work but only manage 6 hours. The first builds trust, as we followed through on what we'd said we'd do; the latter destroys trust as we didn't achieve what we said ... despite actually having done more work!

Of course, if doing just 2 hours work isn't really a challenge, then the trust built is very small; a promise fulfilled, but not a promise of very much.

But if your self-esteem is low and you don't believe much that you say, then starting with really small steps makes sense. And if you are not really intending to follow through (however good an idea it might be) then it's much better not to say you'll do it in the first place.

But this involves a ruthless commitment to honesty. Say what you are doing to do; don't say what you are not going to do!

And gradually you will come to trust the speaker - yourself. And so will others, as, in time you are seen to be a person of your word, who says what they mean, and means what they say.

Not salvation, but still a useful turn around!

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.

When prayer is optional

When we live within the bounds of our normal, comfortable daily lives, prayer is optional. We know that praying is a good idea, but it may well not be at the top of our to-do list. We find time for an occasional quick prayer, or a daily ritual prayer, and perhaps something a bit more concerted when trouble arises, but we can quickly revert to our regular spiritual slumber when life reverts to normal.

The same can apply in our churches. If the normal swing of church activity doesn't require living life on the 'spiritual edge', then prayer is likely to be optional; included because it 'should be' but not at the centre, not essential.

In addition, we can easily become so busy - either with home-life, or with church services and evening meetings, strategies for mission and outreach, and plans for the new website - that prayer gets lost. When we are too busy to pray the devil rejoices!

I have no doubt that the devil would far rather we were busy planning our church outreach - or even getting on with telling people abut Jesus! - than praying. For he knows that it is only through prayer that we are effective as Christians. Without it, the rest is just 'works' and human effort, which are no threat to him.

It is only through prayer that God's work is done. Not just going-through-the-motion prayers, but heartfelt, needy, faithful wrestling in prayer; prayer that is a cry from the heart, is imperative, and comes before everything else.

I'm belatedly discovering that it's only when we start living outside our comfort zone that prayer becomes imperative. Living at God's decree will always be outside our comfort zone, for it involves putting aside our own desires and requires acts of out-of-control faith. (See The Holy Spirit and mess)

If, to be honest, we recognise that prayer is optional or perfunctory in our lives, then we're probably living safe and comfortable lives under our own control. While we stay in the background in this way, well away from the forefront of the spiritual action, prayer is optional.

If we want prayer to be more heart-felt and meaningful, I rather doubt that this comes through trying harder. Perhaps the start is by asking God to draw us closer to himself, and being willing to be drawn out of our comfort zone and closer to the battle-front.

And then we may discover that prayer is -
the air we need to breathe,
the sight we need to see,
the power we need to live,
the strength we need to work,
the faith we need to persist,
the difference between standing and falling,
... and the heart of the work we are given.

So, what is the place of prayer in our lives?

The nature of prayer

I wonder how you understand prayer.

Of course, we "say prayers", which probably start something like "Dear Lord" and will certainly end with "Amen". Hence we recognise the start and end of prayers. The rest of the time our thoughts are our own, are 'private' and are 'not prayers', as they are not addressed to God.

But I increasingly wonder whether prayer is 'what we set our heart upon'. So, while our public (or even private) prayers may sound perfectly acceptable and very spiritual - that Mrs Jones becomes a Christian, for example - our heart's desire may honestly be for a shinier car; that is what our heart is set upon.

The trouble is, I'm not convinced that God is very good at ignoring the thoughts that are not addressed directly to him. In fact, I don't think he's very good at respecting our privacy at all.

God may well answer the prayers of our heart. Mrs Jones hasn't become a Christian, but in time we do acquire a shiny car. We may be puzzled why our prayers for Mrs Jones have gone unanswered, and we probably don't attribute our new car to God's grace, as we never saw that idea as a prayer in the first place.

I'm not saying that the car is what God most wanted to give us, but if our heart's desire is just for such material things, then that may be all he gives us. And all the while God longs that we would ask for something more important in His Kingdom.

If this is at all on the right lines, then it is a sobering thought. But then we are close to asking for forgiveness, which must be a good way to start praying.

What are we praying for? What are the desires of our heart?

Lord, forgive us.

Catching glimpses, but missing the whole

Have you ever noticed that we describe ourselves in the terms that we expect our listeners to be interested in or understand. I'm not talking here about the fact that we talk about different things to different people, but rather that we describe the same issue differently when we talk to different people.

So we visit our doctor, and describe how we have so many headaches and are tired all the time. Next we talk to our therapist about being depressed. Then we talk to our vicar and say how hard we are finding it to pray. And then we come home and talk to our family and say how much we are missing our close friend, who died recently.

And so the doctor prescribes pain relief and something to help us sleep, the therapist helps us to change the train of thought that runs round in our head, the vicar talks about God being present even when we don't feel it, and the family member shares in our tears.

But if these are all expressions of the same issue - bereavement, in the simple example above - then no-one is hearing or understanding the whole. Who can we talk to without presenting just one facet of our experience; without limiting ourselves to the presumed realm of interest of our listener? And who is there that will listen openly to all that we are experiencing?

We live in a world where each professional is only an expert in some tiny fragment of human experience. But it's not just professionals' spheres of expertise that have become fragmented. I wonder whether this has led to our conceiving of our internal experience in equally fragmented ways. We subconsciously categorise our experience against some matching taxonomy: 'physical experience', 'mental or psychological experience', 'spiritual experience' - as if these are different and disconnected!

And by the time we have talked to all these different people and got such different kinds of help, we have almost certainly lost sight of the fact that they are merely facets of the one issue, and we wonder why all of these different problems have come along at the same time!

I am a therapist, so I would rather like to think that the therapist in my example above would do a better job than implied. Except that, by and large, most therapists don't 'do' God; they have got rather too sucked into the medical/psychological model of understanding mental distress, and so exclude the spiritual. Sadly, therefore, I am not confident that the answer lies in therapy.

I am also a Christian, so would really like to think that the answer lies in church. But, very sadly, my experience is that many Christians don't 'do' listening. I know that the kind of listening that is needed is difficult, and is in fact very rare to find anywhere. But how sad if it's not to be found at church. If churches do want their members to be open about the whole range of their experience, then this first needs modelling from the front (see: Who sets the agenda?) and we need to show a genuine interest in more than just "spiritual" things in church.

But perhaps the crucial question is this: when we come to God in prayer, what do we say then? What do we include and exclude? What do we assume that God is interested in? The trouble may be that we simply present a version of what we say to the vicar, somehow assuming that God is (only) interested in 'spiritual' things.

But, thanks to Jesus, surely God does understand and is interested in the whole of us - body, mind and spirit - the three in one? Where better can we go?

In the name of Jesus we muddle through

It used to be said of the Trade Union movement that it's main function was to achieve glorious defeats. They didn't win many cases for their workers, but they did bring their membership together in solidarity against a shared sense of injustice.

I'm not sure whether the unions are more successful these days, but I wonder whether Christians have become enamoured of glorious defeats? Have we lost sight of the spiritual victory? Have we become used to being in the minority and either facing apathy or defending ourselves against hostility, and too used to feeling overwhelmed or defeated. Moreover, we can be rather good at enjoying a shared secret knowledge that we are nonetheless on the winning side, all the while cowering in corners, keeping an increasingly low profile in order to avoid the spotlight.

There is an old (1970s?) chorus I remember from my early years as a Christian:

In the name of Jesus,
In the name of Jesus
We have the victory.
In the name of Jesus,
In the name of Jesus
Demons will have to flee
Who can tell what God can do?
Who can tell of his love for you?
In the name of Jesus, Jesus
We have the victory.

I remember being very encouraged that we were on the victory side! Of course, I still know in my head that this is true, but I realised recently that my felt sense of this victory had become rather distant and neglected.

Moreover, in my mind the simplicity of that chorus has been replaced with a good deal of complexity, shades of grey, and qualified understandings. Not actual doubt, but a difficulty with taking the words of that song with simple gladness and confidence. Is this a growing maturity or is it a clouding of spiritual sight?

And alongside my personal journey (read: 'ageing'), the church in the UK seems to have lost much of its confidence and is also more subdued.

Of course, the Bible doesn't equate 'victory' with worldly ideas of success (see my blog:In praise of failure). The persecutions of the saints throughout the ages makes that clear, as does Jesus' own crucifixion, of course. But herein lies another problem: we may be so familiar with the truth that we will be persecuted as Christians, that we forget to expect to share in God's triumphant victories, except in the most distant of ways - in heaven. But in so thinking, have our faith muscles have become feeble through lack of use?

We live in a spiritual battle - but if we're not fighting, is it any wonder that we end up trampled? And if we aren't even aware that the battle is spiritual, we won't even know what has hit us (see: Impotent Christians in a material world)!

So, for the present, in the name of Jesus we muddle through.