How to make a decision

The privilege of partnership

Photo by Jens Lelie on Unsplash

This time of year is so nostalgic for me. Every August, I flash back to the many, many feelings that defined the fall of 2015, my first semester of college at the University of Alabama. 

I’m not sure why my freshman year, in particular, takes up so much space in my mind. I think there are several reasons. For one, the emotions were intense: the feeling that I had gone from swimming in the shallow end to free diving in the middle of the ocean, the belief that the decisions I made in college would make or break my future in some way, the fear and insecurity that my newfound “freedom” engendered. 

But this isn’t a post about college—not really. (Though, if you’re interested, you can find a little of that here and here.) Instead, it’s more about those feelings, because, try as I might, I didn’t quite leave them behind when I walked across the stage and got my diploma. 

In some ways, being an “adult” is easier than being a college student. I am really, truly responsible for what happens in my life. I decide how to spend my time, how to allocate my money, how to decorate my house. I partner with my husband on decisions that impact our household, but sometimes I’m still surprised by the fact that we don’t have to submit our decisions to some kind of advisory board that’s making sure we’re on track.

Of course, some things are “harder.” I don’t want to trade places with my college self by any means, but it was nice to not have to think about paying my mortgage or making sure I renewed my car registration this year. 

More surprising, though, are the things that haven’t really changed at all between then and now. Growing up, my dad would often joke that he didn’t know what he wanted to be when he “grew up.” As a kid, this concept was almost absurd. To me, then, being an adult meant complete certainty in all things. 

And then I “grew up…” and now I see what he meant, and how wrong I was. 

Aging does bring its own kind of certainties. Lots of things that were shaky in my high school and college years are more solid now than ever. These things do take work; I wouldn’t be confident at all in my faith, for example, if it hadn’t been tested repeatedly. 

But I do think there’s an assumption that if you make the right choices early on, you’ll be able to go on autopilot and watch everything else fall into place. 

This is true in part; early choices matter. But it doesn’t end there.

Early choices just lead to later choices, which lead to present choices, which lead to future choices. They’re not all equally important, but that tends to be something you only find out in hindsight. 

What I thought would be something I just deal with as an anxious, naïve college student is actually just one of the certainties of life. “Choices” belongs up there with Death and Taxes. 

There’s hope in all this, though: I’m not the only one who feels this way, and neither are you. In fact, I’ve talked to adults in all phases of life who are facing the exact same thing. It’s both freeing and terrifying to realize that you get to make the choices that will determine what happens next. It’s also by design. 

So, what do we do about it? 

Great question! I was hoping you’d be able to tell me…

Okay, no, not really. I don’t have a solution, per se, but I do have some thoughts. 

First: In my experience, Christian circles put a lot of emphasis on “finding God’s will” when it’s time to make a decision. This is a noble effort, but I think it can be misleading. 

If you’re choosing between sin and submission to Christ, then “God’s will” is a useful heuristic. God would never intend for you to sin or turn away from him—this is so obvious that it almost feels silly to write out. 

But it introduces a lot of consternation when the options aren’t so morally heavy. It also adds a lot of undue pressure—as if God’s got the script and it’s up to you to blindly figure out your lines and stage directions or else the whole show falls apart.¹

God certainly has intentions, plans, and a “will” for your life, but he wants to partner with you as you work out the details. It takes intentionality, but it’s not a test you’re going to fail. 

Second: God created us to be choosing creatures. This is evident from the very first pages of the Bible. 

In the garden of Eden, God gives Adam and Eve a command—don’t eat from that tree—and the ability to disobey him. He knows the outcome of their potential disobedience. Yet, he doesn’t compel them to obey by overriding their choice or by simply making disobedience impossible. For some reason, their ability to choose freely was important. 

We are created in God’s image, with rational faculties and creativity and the ability to weigh options. He’s even more than willing to endow us with additional faculties: “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach,” James reminds us, “and it will be given him.” 

And that leads me to the third thought: You can practice this partnership through prayer.

I’ve mentioned Psalm 139 as a prayer I return to often, and it shows up again here. Pray these words and thank God for his attention toward you. 

Psalm 139

O Lord, you have searched me and known me!
You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
You search out my path and my lying down
and are acquainted with all my ways.
Even before a word is on my tongue,
behold, O Lord, you know it altogether.
You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is high; I cannot attain it.

Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,”
even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you. 

For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
My frame was not hidden from you,
when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes saw my unformed substance;
in your book were written, every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.

How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
If I would count them, they are more than the sand.
I awake, and I am still with you.

Oh that you would slay the wicked, O God!
O men of blood, depart from me!
They speak against you with malicious intent;
your enemies take your name in vain.
Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord?
And do I not loathe those who rise up against you?
I hate them with complete hatred;
I count them my enemies.

Search me, O God, and know my heart!
Try me and know my thoughts!
And see if there be any grievous way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting!

May God bless you and the choices you make. 

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From the archives:

“Never fear, only trust and obey.” How comforting those words are! From last fall, featuring an old hymn:

A visual reminder:

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1. This reminds me of a recurring nightmare I have, in which I’m a majorette in my high school marching band again and must march onto the field and perform a halftime show that I never learned. Sooo not fair.