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Once a few years ago I was scheduled
to speak at a weekend conference in Spartanburg, South
Carolina. Expecting this retreat to be unusually challenging, I
felt stressed about it, and, with other responsibilities on my
plate just then, I was uneasy about taking the
time away.
I was anxious
as well about the ten-hour drive this trip required. To ease the
travel burden, I left on Thursday evening and drove to South
Hill, Virginia, where I spent the night in a motel. However, my
anxiety about the conference, and a noisy room, resulted
in a poor night’s sleep. I left South Hill on Friday morning
fatigued, wondering how I would ever muster the energy for the
remaining seven-hour drive, then run at full steam for the
strenuous weekend ahead. I struggled to stay awake that whole
trip, and was forced to stop and nap at one point.
Through sheer
effort of will I finally made it to the retreat center, and was
on stage speaking shortly after that. Between speaking
and counseling, I ran myself ragged that weekend, sleeping
minimally Friday and Saturday nights. The conference went well,
however, and when I pulled away at 2:00 Sunday afternoon I felt
encouraged, and much relieved my responsibilities were over.
At this point
what did I do? Check in to the nearest hotel and sleep for two
days?
Not exactly.
I drove back
to Maryland--straight--arriving home about midnight.
No nap this
time--just one breeze through a McDonald’s drive-through, and a
couple of gas stops. The extreme fatigue I had suffered on my
trip south never set in on the way home, and I felt energetic
for much of that drive.
It might seem
illogical that I enjoyed this sudden gust of energy, when I felt
bone-tired on Friday, then by Sunday had even more reason to be
exhausted. But, of course, you’re chuckling, because you’ve had
this experience many times: You’ve dragged through a difficult
workweek, sleeping poorly from the stress, wondering how you’ll
ever make it to the end of the workday Friday. By midweek you
can only imagine that after work Friday, you’ll go straight to
bed and sleep through till noon Saturday. But at 5:00 p.m.
Friday you feel strangely revived. By 5:30 you’re off to the gym
for a vigorous workout, then out to dinner with friends, and
chatting till 1:00 a.m. You bound out of bed at 7:30 Saturday
morning to begin a remodeling project you’ve been longing to
tackle; then go hiking with the kids Saturday afternoon; then a
party Saturday evening, lasting into the small hours. Never
during this time does your energy seriously lag, because the joy
of what you’re doing carries you along.
We go through
these episodes of fatigue and sudden rejuvenation often. Most of
us are quite aware that we’re capable of catching a “second
wind,” and we may be amazed and amused at just how dramatically
our strength can revive for what we really want to do. Seldom,
though, do we think clearly about this process, and consider its
broader implications for our life.
When we do
examine it carefully, we invariably find that our energy, both
physically and emotionally, is profoundly affected by our
expectations--day-in and day-out. On that Friday driving south,
for instance, I simply assumed that a lousy night’s sleep meant
sure fatigue during a long drive to an event I regretted
scheduling. With hindsight, it’s obvious this assumption had
more to do with the tiredness I felt than the loss of sleep
itself--for otherwise the rush of energy I experienced on Sunday
makes no sense. And that burst of steam also sprang from an
expectation--the belief that I could draw on reserve energy for
a ten-hour drive home and do just fine. In both instances,
assumptions about my capabilities strongly influenced how
energetic I felt.
Yet these were
default assumptions in both cases, not outlooks I had
carefully thought through and consciously chosen to embrace. In
the same way, most of us go through life scarcely realizing how
greatly certain underlying suppositions, largely unconscious,
are affecting our vitality.
Premature Cognitive Commitments
Psychologists
term these default expectations “premature cognitive
commitments.” In her exceptional book,
Mindfulness, Harvard psychologist
Ellen J. Langer talks in detail about these preset mental
attitudes and how they affect not only our energy, but our
health, well-being and destiny in dramatic ways. Each of us,
Langer points out, carries certain deeply embedded convictions
about our possibilities in life. We don’t view them as
“convictions,” however--as beliefs we have purposely chosen to
hold--but as truths about our existence, as obvious as
the sun’s dependable rising in the morning. Rarely do we
question them or examine them or consider how they might be
influencing us.
Yet influence
us they do. Our health, energy, happiness, accomplishments, and
success with people are far more affected by premature cognitive
commitments than by our native abilities in these areas.
In some cases
the effect is positive. Former president Ronald Reagan simply
assumed that everyone he encountered would like him; this belief
was part of the fabric of his personality. The results were
intriguing, in that even his enemies were attracted to him
socially. His arch-nemesis in Congress, Democratic leader Thomas
“Tip” O’Neil, commented that while he hated Reagan’s policies,
on the personal level, “I find it impossible to dislike the
guy.”
At the other
extreme, premature cognitive commitments too often work against
us. A childhood friend, whom I considered brilliant when we were
kids, in his mid-forties confessed to me that he had lived
beneath his potential for much of his life. In sixth grade, he
explained, his teacher belittled his work in such a way that it
left him convinced he was incapable of academic learning. That
conviction, which he carried throughout his teenage years and
into adulthood, caused him to avoid challenging courses in
junior high and high school, to stay away from college, and to
settle for a job that didn’t tap his capabilities well. Only now
was he beginning to revisit that assumption, and to realize just
how greatly it had restricted his choices.
When we look
carefully at our own life--at those areas where things go well
for us, and at those where they don’t--we so often find that
certain expectations are affecting our behavior and its
outcomes far more than we’ve realized. It helps us greatly to
gain a better understanding of these assumptions, especially of
those that hinder us unfairly. The good news is that we can
change these expectations into ones that reflect the potential
God truly has given us, and his bigger picture for our life. The
results that we enjoy from such “paradigm shifts” can be
astonishing, and life-changing in the most genuine sense.
Becoming fully
aware of our default assumptions can take work, reflection and
determination, and the help of a counselor or trusted friend can
be invaluable in the process. Yet the task is
typically not Herculean either. If our negative expectations
spring from a traumatic past experience, to be sure, the task of
uncovering repressed memories may be painful, and may require
special help. This is the extreme case, though.
Most often,
our premature cognitive commitments--even our most negative
ones--result simply from faulty thinking. They are perspectives
we’ve adapted--for whatever reasons--because they made sense at
one time, and we’ve held onto them mindlessly ever since.
Pinpointing them doesn’t require extended psychotherapy, nor is
it necessary to understand when or why we latched on to them.
All we need to understand is how our thinking is off the mark,
and how it is hurting our life.
Far from being
a painful undertaking, it’s usually gratifying to discover these
points where we’ve been shooting ourselves in the foot. We’re
more than happy to let go of assumptions that are defeating us,
once we understand where our thinking is skewed.
Identifying
our premature cognitive commitments is half the battle; the
other half is reshaping our unduly pessimistic expectations into
positive ones. We need to become strongly convinced that certain
options are feasible for us, to the point that these convictions
are inherent in our thinking. Let’s look at how we can
meet this challenge in several areas where premature cognitive
commitments most obviously affect us.
Fatigue and
Burnout
As suggested
by my experience driving south, and many you’ve
undoubtedly had, we often don’t understand our capacity for
energy well. We may be convinced that we have to feel tired,
even horribly fatigued, given certain circumstances. Yet the
exhaustion we feel on such occasions may have more to do with
our expectations than our physical state.
We may fear
that we don’t have the strength to carry out an unpleasant but
necessary responsibility. Yet we should look carefully at our
expectations. How do we know that this task will tax us
beyond our limits? Have there been times when we’ve found
surprising vitality for something equally challenging that we
wanted to do? If so, then we have that same capacity for
energy now. Reminding ourselves that this is true may not bring
a sudden, dramatic change in how we feel. Yet this insight can
give us an extra edge and the courage to persevere, since we
realize we’re not likely to collapse or fall apart if we do. And
with time and practice, by making a habit of thinking through
challenges in this way, we can see our general vitality
increase--as our expectations come more into line with our
actual potential for energy.
A related
issue has to do with “burnout.” It has become popular in recent
years (may I say, fashionable?) to speak of being burned out
when we’re highly stressed. The graphic imagery brought to mind
by the term--a light bulb’s filament’s suddenly popping, or an
engine’s grinding to a halt from lack of oil--implies a dire
condition: something has snapped within us; we’re completely
overextended, incapable of continuing, and in need of
substantial rest to regain our strength.
There’s no
question that we can reach a point of frustration or exhaustion
in a role where our effectiveness is seriously hindered, and we
need a break. But are we truly burned out? We are usually
far more capable of resilience than the term suggests.
The assumption
that we’re capable of burning out is a powerful premature
cognitive commitment that can leave us susceptible to thinking
we’re depleted beyond hope, when we may simply be tired and need
a good night’s sleep. This belief may also lead us to
overreact in unfortunate ways; we may abandon an activity or
goal that benefits us, when it would be to our advantage to
stick with it.
A look at our
past experience can show just how illusory this belief often is.
Who among us who attended college, for instance, didn’t reach a
point toward the end of a semester when we felt so exhausted by
our course work that we just wanted to quit? We wondered
how we could possibly marshal the strength to complete our final
projects and take our exams. Who, though, regrets pushing
himself a little harder to get through this period? And did we
collapse once the semester was over? Of course not--we felt
ready to take on the world!
Of course,
part of what gets us through the difficult final stretch of a
college semester is knowing that the burden isn’t endless, and
that we’ll enjoy a break before long. When we’re feeling highly
stressed in other situations, the solution may be to give
ourselves a respite, or to plan one to look forward to soon. The
belief that we’re burned out, though, may lead us to think that
we need a major break, when in fact a brief one may serve us
just as well.
Consider
Elijah’s experience in 1 Kings 19:1-8. Following one eventful
day that included a horrific showdown with the prophets of Baal,
intense praying for rain, and a twenty-mile jog to Ahab’s
palace, Elijah is understandably depleted beyond normal human
limits. A veiled threat on his life from Queen Jezebel plunges
the normally faith-buoyed prophet into suicidal depression. He
leaves his servant behind and wanders a day’s journey into the
desert, where he collapses under the shade of a broom tree,
asking God to take his life. He then falls asleep. After some
time, perhaps a night’s rest, an angel awakens him with food.
Elijah eats, falls asleep again, then awakens once more to a
fresh meal, again prepared by the angel. After just two or three
days of solitude, sleep and good nourishment, Elijah finds his
strength restored. “And he arose . . . and went in the strength
of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb the mount of
God” (v. 8).
Elijah begins
this episode convinced that he is stressed beyond all
hope and healing. Yet it takes only a short retreat to revive
his strength. His experience is good to keep in mind when we
think we’re at the end of our tether. We may indeed need some
rest and refreshment. But a few days of quiet by the lake may
benefit us as greatly as a three-month cruise.
If you’re
carrying the belief that life’s challenges can easily burn you
out, that expectation is certain to defeat you. Work at revising
that conviction. Assume instead that you’re capable of tiring,
but not immeasurably so. Remind yourself that Christ has made
you resilient, and that it’s his nature to renew your strength
and give you fresh heart for what he wants you to do. Focusing
on these positive factors will help you to keep times of stress
and fatigue in better perspective.
Issues of
Health and Aging
Just as our
expectations affect our energy, they influence our health in
many ways. Most of us are generally aware that this is true; we
recognize that a “placebo effect” occurs in medicine, for
instance. Yet we tend to think of it as something other people
experience. It can be surprising to discover just how
susceptible to it we are personally.
In order to
avoid stomach upset, I’ve developed the habit of chewing an
antacid tablet before taking Advil for a headache. Then I chew a
piece of gum to get rid of the antacid’s taste. At least twice
this past year I performed this initial ritual, then
absent-mindedly forgot to take the Advil--yet my headache still
went away. My body responded positively to action it associated
with vanquishing the pain, even though I never took the
pain medicine itself. (If you’ve ever swallowed a pain-killer in
caplet form, then felt relief within minutes, you’ve had this
identical experience, for it takes the pill about thirty minutes
to metabolize!)
The discovery
that we have a particular illness or physical problem brings
with it the knowledge that certain symptoms may follow. We may
experience them for reasons that are purely health-related. Yet
our expectations can--and typically do--influence our perception
of symptoms, and may lead us to place limitations on ourselves
unnecessarily.
Legendary
golfer Babe Didrikson Zaharias contracted cancer at age 42, then
underwent a colostomy. Six weeks following her surgery she won
the Beaumont Open of 1953, then won five more pro tour events
the following year. Never mind that the cancer had spread
throughout her body during this time; her doctor hadn’t informed
her that the disease had fully metastasized, nor that she
was supposed to be dead by the time she won the competitions in
1954.
Hers is a
fascinating example of how the true restraints of an
illness or physical problem vary greatly from person to person,
and of how one’s experience can defy conventional wisdom. The
lesson for each of us is to be cautious in how we think about
our limitations. We should be slow to conclude that any
limitation we imagine we have is genuine, apart from convincing
proof.
The power of
suggestion has such a radical effect on our health and physical
well-being that we need to take special care to embrace positive
expectations in this area. Several steps can help:
Focus on
God as a healer. Scripture never guarantees that God
will heal every infirmity we experience. God denied Paul’s
request to remove the thorn in his side, and refused to grant
David’s plea to spare the life of the son that Bathsheba bore to
him. Still, we find an overwhelming emphasis on God’s healing in
Scripture--as though biblical writers are saying that healing is
the norm, not the exception, when we ask for it. This focus on
healing comes across in many ways. Most prayers for healing in
the Bible were granted; Jesus never denied a single request for
healing during his earthly ministry, and spent more time healing
physical and emotional problems than he did teaching; Paul
himself performed impressive healing miracles; Psalm 103
declares that God heals all our diseases and renews our youth
“like the eagle’s;” and James notes that the prayer of faith
will heal the sick person (Jas 5:15).
In both its
examples and teaching, Scripture gives far more attention to
God’s healing than to the case when he refrains from healing for
a special purpose. What this pattern suggests is that we should
feel tremendous freedom to pray continually and hopefully for
God’s healing of the physical problems we experience. We should
put the burden of proof on God to show us if his intent is not
to heal us, and we should simply accept a physical problem as
his will. Thus, Paul felt great liberty to continue praying
earnestly for God to remove the thorn from his side until God
clearly told him it must remain (2 Cor 12:7-10).
An inclination
toward expecting God’s healing and empowering of us physically
will contribute significantly to our health and vitality, and
will enhance the freedom we feel to seek his help.
Choose
optimistic doctors. Few exercise the power of suggestion
more powerfully in our lives than doctors and other medical
professionals. Who among us hasn’t at some time feared we were
experiencing the symptoms of a certain illness, only to find
them disappear soon after a physician told us they were of no
concern?
If we’re less
fortunate, we’ve felt like we were handed a death sentence when
a doctor with poor communication skills informed us that we had
a serious condition. Such was the case with a close friend of
mine, who a year ago was told in ominous tones by a urologist
that he had advanced prostate cancer, two years to live, and no
meaningful alternatives for treatment. For about a month he
lived with this conclusion, deeply depressed. Then he decided to
seek further evaluation. Other specialists saw his condition
more hopefully and insisted there was plenty he could do to
fight it. He pursued the most aggressive treatment available.
Today he is free of all symptoms, and doctors working with him
are offering a much more optimistic prognosis than he was
initially given.
We may not be
able to change how suggestible we are around medical personnel.
But we can choose which ones we consult with, and thus, the
“suggestions” to which we’re exposed. To the fullest extent
possible, we should employ doctors and specialists who not only
are clearly competent but optimistic in how they view our
condition, and who have a knack for inspiring us to stay
hopeful. And we should never accept any doctor’s gloomy forecast
without seeking further opinions.
Stay
optimistic about aging. It’s just as important to choose
doctors, friends and associates who are optimistic about our
possibilities in later years. Countless studies have shown that
elderly people who continue to assume responsibility for their
needs, have interesting work to do, and believe they are needed,
are better off. They enjoy better health and vitality,
and live longer, than those who don’t enjoy these advantages.
Many studies have shown, too, that long-held notions about
certain areas of potential having to decline in later age are
simply erroneous, or grossly exaggerated. Our expectations
greatly affect how productive we remain into our senior years,
and thus how meaningful life continues to be for us.
One elderly
woman I know has no immediate family living to care for her--a
fact that has often discouraged her. Yet she also has no one
telling her that she’s too old to be doing certain tasks, and
that she must slow down and let others do more for her. What she
has instead is a large number of younger friends in the ethnic
community of which she is a part, who look up to her as a
matriarchal figure and greatly respect her. She continues to
live by herself in the same large home she has occupied for
fifty years in Chevy Chase--and unbelievably resourcefully, on
$10,000 annual income. Cataracts did force her to relinquish her
driver’s license two years ago. Following recent cataract
surgery, however, she took her driver’s test, passed, and is a
road warrior once again.
Edwina is 95.
Examples like
hers are immensely inspiring, for they encourage us not to sell
our possibilities short as we age. They remind us too of the
importance of having those around us who continue to believe in
us as life moves on.
Success and
Failure
Of course, we
need this sort of positive reinforcement throughout our lives,
and in all of our important pursuits. Our success or failure at
every point where we seek to follow a dream, accomplish a goal
or be productive, is to a large extent a product of our
expectations.
Some of us are
natural optimists. Just as Ronald Reagan expected others to like
him, we assume that we’ll inevitably succeed in certain
endeavors, and our expectations enhance the positive results we
often experience.
But most of us
have to work at being optimistic. Like my friend who from sixth
grade on assumed that he couldn’t be educated, we may be
carrying expectations throughout our life that are deeply
hindering our potential. How can we identify and relinquish
these hurtful convictions? The best step we can take is to
focus, not on uncovering our blind spots per se, but on
better understanding the potential God truly has given us. He
has endowed us each with certain natural abilities. He also
inspires each of us uniquely--to enjoy certain work, and to
accomplish certain objectives with our life. As our insight
grows into how God has gifted and motivated us, we’ll invariably
discover those points where negative assumptions have been
defeating us.
We should seek
the best help available in this process of discovering our
potential. We live in a fortunate era, when well-conceived
vocational tests can help us fine-tune our understanding--both
of our native ability and of the motivational tendencies that
are most central to our personality. Competent vocational
counseling is also widely available. We ought to avail ourselves
of such resources to the fullest extent that we need them.
As we come to
better understand our potential, we should set goals that
reflect the gifts and interests that God most clearly has given
us. It’s important also to “rehearse” these goals often--to
review them in our devotional time, and to bring them to mind
frequently throughout the day. We should remind ourselves why,
given how God has fashioned us, these goals make sense for us,
and why we have strong reason to be optimistic about
accomplishing them.
In the ongoing
process of embracing our goals and fine-tuning them, we should
also seek to spend as much time as possible with friends and
acquaintances who think encouragingly about us. Their
expectations invariably influence our own, and God will often
use them to help clarify his will for us.
Finally--and
it’s hard to stress this point too strongly--we should give
special priority to spending regular time alone with Christ, in
which we allow him ample opportunity to clarify his will and to
give us fresh heart for what he wants us to do. The conviction
that Christ wants us to take a certain step with our life is the
most positive, powerful expectation we can embrace. This
confidence can come as we seek his presence and make a
responsible effort to establish goals that reflect his best for
us. It’s all part of exercising stewardship over the life he has
entrusted to us.
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