The "Right" Way

Somehow in my life the idea that there is only one "right" way has become deeply entrenched.  While there are certain areas of life where this is true (hooking up jumper cables, salvation through Jesus, etc.),  those are pretty few and far between, even if they are extremely important.    In the over application of this "right way" thinking, however, a decision such as "What should I make for dinner?"  or "What should I wear today?" has the potential to be treated with the same type of life or death energy.  The amount of accumulated minutes spent giving "life or death" focus to "it really doesn't matter" choices in my life would probably be mind-numbing if I were able to add them all up.

Today I read two things that really made me think about this mentality.  One was from a very unlikely source, Container Gardening for Kids, by Ellen Talmage.  In the introduction to the book, she was discussing the joy of experimenting with different plants and conditions.  I was half-heartedly reading it to my kindergartener when the next paragraph really stuck out:

It is important to know that no gardener has complete success.  Because you are dealing with Mother Nature, you should expect a certain amount of disappointment.  Keep a notebook handy to write down what you do and when, and record your successes and failtures.  Sometimes, the best way to learn to grow a kind of plant is to kill it first.  You will seldom make the same mistake twice.  Don't get discouraged.  Eventually, your many successes will outweigh your failures. (p. 4)

Here was a complete gem of advice for those choices that really don't matter.  Go ahead and keep trying.  Yes, you're going to fail.  Yes, you're going to make "wrong" choices that even kill the plant.  But that's not the end.  Too much sun?  Try a shadier spot.  Not enough water?  Irrigate more frequently.  Lesson learned, move on, and remember that a new plant won't respond the same.  How often do I expect a single checklist to cover all the situations in life, and get disappointed when I can't find it?  How often do I give up on things when my initial efforts fail, when I have "killed a plant" so to speak?  How often I just label myself as having a black thumb and don't even keep trying!

Then this afternoon I was feeling miserably overwhelmed, and sure that I've completely lost any of the lessons I learned during my Daniel fast, and convinced that I would continue making poor choices.  An article on Christian homeschooling brought the morning's advice about success and failure right back to me:

 Robert Kiyosaki says the most damaging beliefs the public school system teaches are (1) that mistakes are bad and (2) that there is only one right way to do something. These beliefs create a fear of failure, a fear of making mistakes, that thwart true learning. Kiyosaki further says that most true learning comes from making mistakes, from falling down and trying again like you do when you learn to walk or learn to ride a bicycle. So failure always has something to teach us, and often teaches us more than success does. . . What if we really believed God works everything for our good and even redeems our mistakes? That would dispel a lot of our fear and anxiety. (http://www.christianhomeschooling.us/articles/ellyndavis1.html)

He redeems our mistakes.  I know this.  I believe it about my past.  But do I live as if I believe it in the present?  Or do I spend so much time trying to make the "right" choice that I end up not choosing anything?  Do I rob myself of God's redemption in the present? 

In The Bondage Breaker by Neil T. Anderson, the author describes our Christian life as the process of walking down a long narrow street of maturity in Christ.  But the row houses on either side of the street are still under the enemy's control, and he will try to keep us from reaching our goal.  Having no authority or power to physically block our path or stop us, Satan hangs from windows and calls to us, hoping to turn our attention away from Jesus by offering temptation, calling out accusations, and tossing down deception. He wants us to slow our pace, or even sit down and stop right there in the middle of the street.  How much of my worries over a "right" choice have resulted in that same type of slowing or stopping?  Seeing a fork in the road, when really I've already taken the narrow way?

On to less thinking, and more doing as I travel down the path.