Your Future Self Will Thank You

by Drew Dyck

  First up: Bible reading. In the past I’ve been inconsistent in this area, and I want to start reading Scripture every single day. I decided to start with just fifteen minutes a day. I know, I know, don’t hurt yourself, right? Fifteen minutes may not seem like much. But I’ve learned not to despise small beginnings. Once I have a habit of reading my Bible for fifteen minutes a day, I can build from there.

  I downloaded an app on my phone that helps you read the Bible in one year. Every day the app features small samples from the Old and New Testaments. That way you don’t have to spend a month plugging through Deuteronomy. Each day’s readings take about fifteen minutes. I decided that I’d read the passages first thing in the morning. What better way to start the day than with God’s Word? Should be easy, right?

  Not exactly. The first morning, I reached for my phone fully intending to open my Bible app. Instead I found myself doing what I always do first thing in the morning—checking social media. After a few minutes on Twitter and Facebook, I opened my email. There were a couple work emails that needed my attention, and I started replying. Then a bleary-eyed three-year-old walked into our room and the morning began. It wasn’t until later that day I realized I’d skipped my Bible reading altogether. The experience also taught me that before I could form a new, good habit, I had to break a bad one—checking social media and email first thing in the morning. Mindful of this tendency, on Day Two I managed to hold off on checking social media and read my Bible. But about half of the mornings, I’d revert to my old ways. Even when I was reading my Bible app on my phone, I’d feel the pull to check social media. Above I noted how Satan’s temptations are all shortcuts. I’m not saying Twitter is demonic, but it’s become something of a shortcut for me. It provides instant entertainment, connection, and affirmation—all without having to turn to God. Even if I managed to stay off Twitter, I’d open email or check the news. Even as I was reading through 1 Kings, I kept wondering what stories I’d missed while I’d slept. About half the time I’d opt for checking other things on my phone and deferring my Bible reading till later in the day. And later in the day rarely came.

  My phone was a landmine of distractions, pulling me away from spending time in God’s Word. After a couple weeks of spotty Bible reading, I realized what I had to do—go analog. I had thought my smartphone, with its accessibility and handy apps, was the key to regular Scripture engagement. In fact, it was the enemy. So I pulled my big black Bible off the shelf, lugged it up to my bedroom, and plunked it down on my nightstand. It literally shot up a little cloud of dust when it landed.

  It was a good move, though. Now when I wake up, it’s the first thing I see. I’ve had far more success reading this physical Bible than a digital one. In my research about habits, I learned about the importance of “cues,” physical signals that trigger a behavior. Seeing that big black Bible every morning is a cue for me. And even though I still hear the siren song of social media, checking it requires closing the Bible and setting it down, something I’m less likely to do than simply swiping over to a different app on my phone.

  Researchers identify some habits as “keystone habits,” meaning that in addition to creating a healthy routine, they influence all areas of your life, encouraging other virtuous behaviors. I’m convinced Bible reading is a keystone habit (and we’ll discuss that more in chapter 6). When I start my day in God’s Word, the whole day is different. I have a better attitude, I’m more focused, and better equipped to resist temptation. I’m even nicer to my kids. Going forward, I know that starting the day in God’s Word will be crucial to building self-control.

  Chapter 4

  Hope for Growth

  How to Grow Your Puny Willpower Muscles

  “The best way to think of willpower is not as some shapeless behavioral trait but as a sort of psychic muscle, one that can atrophy or grow stronger depending on how it’s used.”

  —JEFFREY KLUGER

  Did you have a sibling who drove you nuts growing up?

  I did. For me it was my brother Dan. Even now I feel bad for being irritated with him. After all, Dan wasn’t inconsiderate or mean. Though he was three years older than me, and much stronger, he never bullied me. But that was part of the problem. The reason Dan was so annoying was that Dan was perfect.

  I remember getting angry with him for some reason—so angry that I curled my fingers into claws and swiped them across his bare chest. As four red lines appeared across his torso, I thought I’d finally done it. Surely this would be enough to make Dan throttle his little brother. Instead Dan pinched his eyes closed, took a sharp breath in, said, “I forgive you,” and left the room.

  See what I mean? Annoying.

  When Dan was eight years old, he decided to give up sugar. Just like that. It’s odd enough for a kid to swear off sugar, and stranger still to actually do it. But Dan did. For five years! Not a slice of pie. Not a sip of Coke. Not even a jawbreaker candy from the gas station down the street. Nothing.

  As we moved through our teens, my brothers and I all worked side jobs. For me and my other brothers, the money we made went out as quickly as it came in. Usually we squandered our paltry paychecks on anything we thought might impress girls: Polo shirts, Diesel jeans, Eternity cologne, and hairspray (hey, it was the ’90s). But Dan saved his. Recently my mom commented on our different spending habits growing up. “You all spent your money as soon as you got it, or even before. Then you borrowed money from Dan.”

  Dan’s perfection affected more than just eating and spending habits. He was a spiritual prodigy of sorts. He memorized reams of Scripture and sang like an angel in the church choir. Each night he bowed down and prayed beside his bed, which of course, he had made that morning.

  Since we were pastor’s kids, the story of Daniel in the Bible loomed large in my imagination. The Jewish Daniel was a paragon of character. He prayed with the regularity of a clock, three times a day, and refused to bow to idols. So stalwart was Daniel that not even threats of fiery furnaces or snarling predators could make him swerve from the path of righteousness.

  In my mind, there was little difference between my older brother and his biblical namesake. My parents had named my brother well. It was like the ancient, Jewish Daniel had walked out of the lions’ den and right into our living room.

  Why do I bring up my brother Dan? Well, I didn’t have the name for it back then. But essentially what Dan exhibited was excellent self-control, especially for someone so young. I’m betting he would have been one of the kids able to hold out in the marshmallow experiment. And sure enough, Dan’s “life outcomes” have been favorable. He’s a committed Christian and active in his church. He’s a proverbial pillar of the community. He’s a great family man. Recently, his oldest daughter visited and nonchalantly mentioned that her dad had devotions with each of his four children every morning before heading to work.

  Oh, and Dan’s successful.

  A few years ago, I ran into one of Dan’s friends. He told me of how he’d attended a business conference where my brother was one of the featured speakers. The headliner of the conference was the Super Bowl–winning coach and bestselling author, Tony Dungy, but the friend informed me that the NFL great was overshadowed. “Dungy was great,” the man said. “But your brother’s talk was the best of the conference by far.”

  Even as an adult, Dan is finding ways to irritate me.

  All joking aside, I love my brother and I’m happy for him. But what if you’re not like Dan? What if you were like one of those kids who crammed the marshmallow into his mouth the second the researcher left the room … and then asked for another one? What about the rest of us?

  When I started researching for this book, there was a nagging fear in the back of my mind. What if self-control is something that’s set at birth? It’s not like my brother had decades to develop this essential trait. So what if self-control is like height, mid-digital hair (look it up), or eye color? What if it’s dictated by your DNA and that’s that? What if it’s set in ston
e? What if the only way to become like Dan is to be born like him?

  WEAK WILLPOWER

  In chapter 1, we explored the concept of self-control. We looked at definitions from the Bible and psychology. I shared my working definition of self-control, that it’s basically the ability to do the right thing, even when you don’t feel like it.

  In chapter 2, we examined how self-control isn’t ultimately about us. We saw the importance of having a higher purpose and how “sanctified goals” actually fuel our efforts to live righteous lives.

  In chapter 3, we looked at the shadowy side of human nature. We grappled with some unpleasant realities. Far from being the virtuous champions we imagine ourselves to be, we’re fallible and fallen. Even when we want to do what’s right, we find ourselves plagued by sinful desires.

  Now we need to consider a different yet related topic: willpower. Willpower is the emotional energy needed to withstand temptation. From a strictly human perspective, it’s what enables self-control. It’s the fuel. Willpower is required for a range of activities, from resisting temptation to learning new tasks to making decisions to preserving in difficult circumstances. But willpower is limited. Often, we just don’t have enough.

  CONTROLLING YOUR INNER HOMER SIMPSON

  The Bible uses the term “double-minded” (James 1:8). Now scientists are using it too. “Some neuroscientists go so far as to say that we have one brain but two minds,” writes psychologist Kelly McGonigal.1

  The first mind refers to a group of structures located deep in the center of your brain, known as the reward system. This region of the brain is activated when you are exposed to something desirable and urges you to pursue it. It’s been called the Homer Simpson of the brain—all desire, no restraint.

  Good thing there’s the prefrontal cortex. Located right behind your forehead, this area of the brain is responsible for planning, decision-making, and regulating behavior. When people suffer injuries to this region, their behavior spirals out of control. Unable to control their desires, they become reckless and irresponsible. It’s wise to engage in activities that keep your prefrontal cortex healthy, like exercise, prayer, meditation, performing mentally demanding tasks, and yes, exercising self-control. Desire isn’t bad, but it must be kept in check. There’s no getting rid of Homer. Just don’t let him run your life.

  I thought of willpower recently as I rewatched one of the all-time greatest comedy sketches. In the Mad TV clip, the comedian Bob Newhart plays a mild-mannered psychologist helping a young woman struggling to overcome her phobias.

  Newhart’s character sits opposite the patient in an office filled with wood paneling and tufted leather chairs. Then he invites her to share her problems. But when she does, Newhart’s calm demeanor disappears. He leans forward, suddenly angry and shouts at the top of his lungs. “STOP IT!”

  It’s a hilarious skit (seriously, go watch it). We recognize the absurdity of the psychologist’s approach, which provides a sharp contrast to the stereotype of the coddling therapist. I also think there’s another reason the sketch is so effective. I wonder if part of us wants to believe that Hartman’s “therapy” just might work. Maybe all we need to eliminate destructive behaviors is a blunt directive to do so. Perhaps we could overcome all of our issues, even gripping phobias, through sheer willpower alone. Maybe we can just “stop it!” Of course, another part of us realizes it isn’t that simple. Yes, willpower is important, but it’s limited. All too often, it isn’t enough—but why?

  A FINITE RESOURCE

  About twenty years ago, researchers discovered something fascinating about willpower. It all started with a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies (no marshmallows this time) and a bowl of radishes. Those were the two choices set before college students in a landmark experiment conducted by psychologist Roy Baumeister. It was a setup from the beginning. The student volunteers had been fasting before they walked into a laboratory that was “filled with the delicious aroma of fresh chocolate and baking.”2 There on the table were the fresh cookies placed next to a bowl of red and white radishes.

  Then they were given the rules. One group of students was permitted to eat only the radishes. The other was free to feast on the cookies. To heighten the temptation, researchers left the lab and watched the students from an adjacent room. The radish-only students eyed the cookies with longing. A few even picked up the forbidden treats and sniffed them before returning them to the plate.

  Then the volunteers were led to another room where they were given a geometry puzzle to work on. They were told the puzzles were designed to test their intelligence. In reality the puzzle was impossible to solve. The experimenters wanted to see how long they would struggle with the puzzle before giving up. And that’s where things got interesting. The participants who had eaten cookies dramatically outperformed those who had eaten radishes. It wasn’t even close. Those who had consumed the delicious cookies struggled with the puzzle for about twenty minutes before calling it quits. The radish-eaters lasted only eight minutes, less than half as long.

  Why the dramatic difference?

  Resisting the cookies drained the participants’ willpower. When it came time to solve a complicated puzzle, their reserves of willpower were dangerously low. Baumeister and his team had discovered that willpower is limited. It runs out. Baumeister dubbed the phenomenon “ego depletion.”

  What’s more, Baumeister concluded that, “seemingly different, unrelated acts share a common resource.”3 That is, the same power it takes to resist cookies is what we use to push ourselves to solve math problems. Both tasks drew from the same source. “Making decisions uses the very same willpower that you use to say no to doughnuts, drugs or illicit sex,” Baumeister writes. “It’s the same willpower that you use to be polite or to wait your turn or to drag yourself out of bed or to hold off going to the bathroom.”4

  Baumeister’s findings revolutionized the field. His original study has been cited in academic journals thousands of times and changed the way we think about self-control. Though some psychologists have challenged the concept of ego depletion, it is now widely accepted that willpower is a finite resource, one that can be depleted.

  In some ways, such findings illustrate what the Bible teaches us about our nature—that we’re finite beings with limited capacity. I think of Jesus’ words to His disciples when He caught them napping on the eve of His crucifixion. “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak” (Matt. 26:41). Baumeister’s findings provided empirical evidence that our willpower is weak—and that it gets weaker as we go.

  Ego depletion has implications for battling temptation too. Actually, it means that “battling” temptation is usually a bad idea. It’s easy to imagine that if we can fend off temptation once, we can do it again. But we’re often weaker the second time ’round. Perhaps that’s why Scripture urges us to “flee” temptation rather than stand and fight. Of course we can’t always flee temptation. Sometimes we have to stand and fight. There’s a reason the Bible instructs us to “put on the armor of God” and take up “the sword of the Spirit.” But whenever possible, avoiding it altogether is wise. Petitioning God to “lead us not into temptation” is a better plan than trying to stare down sin.

  FIXED OR FLUID?

  To get my head around the concept of willpower, I interviewed sociologist and professor Bradley Wright. He opened our conversation with an odd statement.

  “If I wanted to destroy your self-control, this is how I’d do it,” he told me. “First, I’d make sure you got only three hours of sleep. Then I’d see to it that you got in a fight with your wife.”

  After making a mental note to never invite Dr. Wright to my house, I listened to his reasoning. The conflict and sleep deprivation would deplete my limited willpower reserves, pushing me into a vulnerable state. I’d be in the perfect position for my self-control to falter. This insight helped me make sense of past behavior. I realize now why I tend to eat poorly when I’m stressed. It’s why I’m more likely to snap at my kids
after a hard day at work. The radishes of stress and work leave little willpower for the puzzles of healthy eating and family life.

  The big question I had for Dr. Wright, though, was the one inspired by growing up with a precocious brother. “Do some people naturally have more willpower than others?” I asked. His response was unequivocal.

  Absolutely! Some people just have a lot more self-control than others. My sister is an incredibly self-controlled person. She was doing aerobics in high school. She’s a vegetarian. She was valedictorian. A champion tennis player. I could devote every second of the rest of my life to being self-controlled, and I wouldn’t reach her.

  Turns out the Good Professor had his own “Dan” growing up. It was nice that he could relate to my plight of being the slacker sibling, but I was hardly encouraged. What can those of us with naturally low self-control do about it? Wright went on to make an important distinction. He explained that there are two types of self-control that researchers study: state and trait.

  State self-control, he explained, refers to a person’s level of willpower moment to moment. And, like we’ve already seen, it varies. For example, maybe you woke up this morning determined to eat healthily. You had oatmeal and fruit for breakfast and planned to eat a salad at lunch. But then you had a busy morning at work and lunch got pushed back to 2:00 pm. By the time you finally got a moment to eat, you weren’t too excited about the quinoa salad you’d packed and you found yourself drawn to the leftover pizza left in the break room. That morning your state self-control was high. You could have walked right by the pizza without much temptation. But after a stressful morning and a grumbling belly, things are different. Your state self-control is low, and you cave.