How many times have you read one of Jesus’ parables and thought, What is the point of this? What is he getting at? It happens to me all the time.
But this morning I was reading in Luke 18, and Jesus tells us the point before he even gives the parable.
The story is about an unjust judge who doesn’t fear God. A widow woman comes to him and keeps bugging him to avenge her of her adversary. The judge ignores her for a while, but she keeps hounding him and finally he gives in, “lest by her continual coming she weary me.”
He just wanted her to stop haranguing him.
Then Jesus says, “Shall not God avenge his own elect, which cry day and night unto him . . .?”
So what’s the point? Is it that God gets sick of hearing us and answers us just so we’ll leave him alone?
Not at all. Go back to the first verse:
And he [Jesus] spake a parable unto them to this end, that men ought always to pray, and not to faint.
Jesus says we “ought always to pray, and not to faint.” Always keep asking. Never don’t believe that he can answer. That’s not great English but it’s good theology. So I took my own advice.
Just the other day I had a burden that was big to me. I was in a situation where, no matter which way I decided (and there were only two choices), someone was going to be disappointed or upset with me. If you know anything about enneagram 9s, you understand my intense distress over the choice I had to make.
So I did what any good 9 would do: I put it off. Ben asked about it Sunday night and I told him I wasn’t going to make a decision until the next day. That probably sounded like wisdom, but in reality it was just good old procrastination to the (temporary) rescue.
Monday I got up and did my usual, which includes reading the Bible and writing morning pages. (I started morning pages a year ago when I read Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way. I don’t know if she came up with the idea, but this is where I learned it. Basically, you get a notebook and a pen and you start writing and don’t stop until you’ve filled three pages. You can write about anything—important stuff or what you had for dinner last night. The point is to just keep writing whatever pops into your mind without stopping. This is supposed to get all the words out of your head so that new ideas can flow in. I don’t know why, but it seems to work well as long as I do it every day, or at least most days.)
Anyway, I had this big dilemma, so I started writing about it. I wrote the pros and cons of deciding each way, who would be mad and who would be pleased and how I felt about all of it. Somewhere in there I knew what the right answer was. But, of course, someone would still be disappointed, so although it was nice to know deep down what the decision should be, I still had to tell everyone what my decision was.
So I kept writing but turned it into a prayer. I poured it all out to God (like he couldn’t read the previous two pages of back-and-forthing) and asked him to help me tell the person I would have to disappoint. I asked him to help the whole situation, to wash it in grace, to help me learn to sit with the difficult feelings and to help the other person see my perspective and why I felt I needed to decide this way. And even after all that pouring out, I was still worried about it. The thought of someone being unhappy with me is distressing, especially when you expect a negative reaction.
But then I sat down with the person and explained my decision and I was amazed that there was no anger, not even a hint of displeasure. Everything was fine. The person understood my thinking, even anticipated that I would decide the way I did, and they were completely fine with it.
I was surprised, but not for obvious reasons. While there is a history of anger there, that history is in the distant past and there is more recently a history of understanding, of calm cooperation, of much healthier communication.
Yet, what my nervous system latched on to was the old way, the hurtful way, the scary (to me) way things once were. It anticipated things would not go well. And that’s perfectly normal. It’s what nervous systems do. Once they’ve been activated, they are always and forever on the lookout for more of the same. They expect it. They just *know* it’s coming.
When things go a certain way over and over for a long time, our nervous system gets used to that way. Pathways are formed in our brain that make it easier for our thoughts to travel down the same old road. Anticipating the same response we’ve always gotten becomes easier every time, even though the other person has changed and their reactions are not like they used to be. The old, negative thinking becomes a superhighway: easy to get on and stay on. That’s negative thinking. We don’t even choose it; the on-ramp becomes automatic. This is how we get stuck in unhelpful thought patterns.
So what do we do? How do we change our negative thinking? How do we make room for those around us to grow? How do we change our expectation of something negative coming?
We make a big deal out of showing our nervous system that things are new. Things have changed. The situation is not like it always was. Stop everything and say right out loud, “Wow! That was a different reaction! This person did not respond with disappointment or anger. They were understanding and wasn’t that so refreshing? It’s not like it’s always been. What a great experience!”
In the world of psychology, this is called adaptive thinking. It’s making your constantly moving thoughts slow down and notice a new road. There’s a new path available, and now your thoughts have a choice: they can jump on the old superhighway of stress and angst, or they can try this new country lane. It may not be a fast route or an easy one, but it’s a much calmer, happier one with lovely scenery, and we get to choose to take this road. As soon as you see the superhighway on-ramp coming, take your foot off the gas and look for a different road. There’s the little side road; let’s try that instead. Look—flowers and farms and cows and isn’t this so much nicer?
So what’s the point? Is it that the Lord helped me work out a situation in the best way possible? Partially. I asked for help and he gave it in the way I asked him to. I’m thankful.
But the bigger lesson here is that I can change my expectations by changing my thoughts, by choosing a different pathway in my brain. It’s there; I just have to look for it.
When God tells us in Philippians 4,
Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.
And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.
Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.
Those things, which ye have both learned, and received, and heard, and seen in me, do: and the God of peace shall be with you.
here’s what I get from it:
Ask God for help. He may or may not give you the help exactly as you ask for it, but he will give you peace, and he’ll keep your heart and mind.
Pay attention to your thoughts. As soon as you notice a negative one, ask yourself: Is this true? Is it honest? It is just? Pure? Lovely? Is there any virtue or praise in it? If not, put on the brakes and look for a different road.
Then, use your mind to think on what he says to think on. Get off the superhighway of angst and dread and fear and negative thoughts, and get on the country road where the God of peace travels.
Wow, this is so good. I, too, as an enneagram 9, hate disappointing people. And I’ve also been wondering how to change my expectations of negative reactions, burned into my brain from past experience, when the current experience is so different.