by Andy Stanley
But if you are willing to harness your time and appropriate it strategically, things can be different. You will be healthier physically, relationally, spiritually, and possibly, financially. You will look back at this next season of life with few, if any, regrets. Not because of a single day or a single burst of activity, but because of a single decision: the decision to get full value out of your time by making small, incremental investments of time in the things that matter most.
Studio Time Can Be Expensive
So in the light of your past, your present, and your future hopes and dreams, what needs to change about the way you are spending your time? What do you need to stop doing? What do you need to cancel? Chances are, the things that come to mind are not bad things. But remember, we have been called to a higher standard. What is the wise thing to do with your time? What in your current schedule is distracting you from making incremental investments of time in what’s most important?
The biggest test I have ever faced in this area came two decades ago, right after Garrett, our second son, was born. I love music. In the early days of my marriage, I had a little music studio in our condo, along with a lot of gear that I had started accumulating when I was single. Marriage certainly cut into my studio time, but I continued to find a few hours here and there to disappear into my private world of music. When our first son, Andrew, was born, I found it increasingly difficult to carve out time for music. Sandra was very understanding and encouraged me to take whatever time I could find to pursue my musical interest.
Right after Garrett was born, we moved into a larger rental house. I was in the basement hooking up all my stuff one night when suddenly a thought hit me: You know, Andy, you’re about to invest another big block of your life in something that is fun but not very productive, and upstairs are the three people you love the most, and two of them are in diapers. As I sat there thinking about the future, I knew that one day I would look back and wish I had invested more time with the people I loved and less time with the hobby I loved. I knew that the block of time—life—I would invest in music would be better spent with my family.
I went upstairs and announced to Sandra that I wasn’t even going to set my studio up, but instead I was going to sell everything. She was both shocked and relieved. In spite of her patience and encouragement, I knew there were times when she felt like she had to compete for my attention.
Looking back, that was one of the best decisions I ever made. There was nothing wrong with having a music studio, but in light of my desire to stay meaningfully connected to my family, giving it up was the wise thing for me to do. Do I miss my music? Sometimes. But I have never second-guessed my decision. And twenty years later, I am still enjoying the dividends from that simple decision. Besides, I can’t imagine adding a time-consuming hobby to my already-packed schedule. But hey, that’s just me. The question is, What is the wise thing for you to do?
I’m not suggesting that if you have a music studio, art studio, darkroom, shop, or sewing room, you need to shut it down. I am suggesting that, as you contemplate the future, you carefully evaluate the way you are allocating your time now. Choose wisely and your decision will reward you. Choose unwisely and your decision may rob you.
Your Assignment
Here is a short exercise designed to help you evaluate what you need to do with what you have just read. Get a notepad and write these four words in a list on the left side of a blank page:
Physically
Relationally
Professionally
Spiritually
Beside each word, write one thing you can begin doing that, if done consistently, would have a positive effect on that component of your life. What small investment in each of those areas can you begin making that you’ll be able to look back on as a worthy investment of your time? What can you begin to do consistently—physically, relationally, professionally, and spiritually—that will have cumulative value? What do you wish you had done consistently over the past twelve months in each of those areas? Spending a few minutes answering these questions will provide you with a starting point for using your time more wisely beginning now.
If Job was right, and the number of our days really is determined, if there are limits we cannot exceed, then the issue of how we spend our time is of paramount importance. Indeed, time may be the most crucial arena in which to apply our big question. So once again let me ask: In light of your past experience, your current circumstances, and your future hopes and dreams, how should you be allocating your time? What do you need to add to your schedule? What should be subtracted? Where do you need to apply the principle of cumulative value?
Your time is your life. What is the wise thing to do?
The simple message of these next few chapters is one I’ve spent thirty years of my life trying to instill in the minds and hearts of American teenagers. Some listened and applied. Through the years I have received countless letters and e-mails from students thanking me for this uncomplicated, yet profound principle. Many of these former students are married now and enjoying the rewards of having chosen the path of wisdom in this area of life.
Unfortunately, many more chose not to heed my warnings. And that’s understandable. Every day, students are bombarded with messages and images that support a different viewpoint—a view fueled by the God-given passions raging inside their over-stimulated and underdisciplined bodies. Besides, I’m old enough to be their dad. What could I possibly know?
Nothing has stolen more dreams, dashed more hopes, broken up more families, and messed up more people psychologically than our propensity to disregard God’s commands regarding sexual purity. Most of the major social ills in America are caused by, or fueled by, the misuse of our sexuality. If issues related to sexual impurity—adultery, the shrapnel associated with adultery, addiction to pornography, AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases, abortion, the psychological effects associated with abortion, sexual abuse, incest, rape, and all sexual addictions—were to suddenly disappear from society, imagine the resources we would have available to apply to the handful of issues that would remain.
Since God grants us free will, there will always be people who will themselves into the complications associated with sexual impurity. This, too, is a fact of life. But for the sake of those who are willing to listen, the warning must be sounded.
Slow Learners
I started this book by saying that we have all done things we regret. We regret some decisions because they are embarrassing. Other regrets stem from decisions that ate up our time or wasted our resources. But no regret runs deeper than the regret associated with unwise moral decisions. In time you may find you are able to laugh about wasted money and poor time management. But when it comes to moral failure, time doesn’t help. Nobody ever laughs about an affair, a divorce, a sexual addiction, or abuse. In the arena of moral failure, the regret runs deep and the pain can traverse generations. Chances are, your greatest regrets in life fall somewhere within this category.
The strange thing is, as predictable as the outcomes are, we don’t appear to have learned very much. One would think that after losing thousands of people to sexually transmitted diseases and watching a generation or two of kids grow up without fathers in their homes, we might have learned something. But alas, lust and greed continue to drive us past the limits afforded by common sense.
I was reminded of how predictable certain outcomes are one afternoon while sitting in my chiropractor’s waiting room. I struck up a conversation with a woman whose son was reading a book I had read, and she asked me if I was a teacher. When I informed her that I was a pastor, she launched into a detailed account of her unfaithful husband and subsequent divorce. When she mentioned that her husband had run off with his younger secretary, I responded, “Now that was original.” Not dissuaded by my sarcasm, she went on to talk about how quickly he had married his mistress and how difficult it was to find a job that left her with the flexibility she needed to raise their middle-school-aged son.
I shook my head and said, “Well, let me assure you of one thing: Your husband is far more miserable than you will ever be.”
She looked confused, as did the other people in the waiting room who were pretending not to listen to what was quickly becoming a potential script idea for a new reality TV show.
“What do you mean by that?” she asked.
“Well, pretty soon your ex’s new wife is going to want to start a family. He’s not going to want to do that because he already did that once. She’s going to be upset, and either way he goes, he’s not going to get what he wants. One day he’s going to wake up and realize that he is stuck.”
Immediately, the guy to my left, whose nose had been buried in his newspaper, blurted out, “You got that right!” Apparently I had hit a nerve. But since I had already opened up one can of worms, I just ignored his comment and focused on my new friend.
She sat up a little straighter and actually smiled at the thought of her ex suffering for a change. “You know, I didn’t think about that. But I bet you’re right. And he’s definitely not going to want to start another family.”
Now she was starting to sound a little too giddy. Then she turned and said, “But how did you know all of that?”
“I’m a pastor,” I said. “I’ve seen this played out more times than I can count. Solomon was right: There’s nothing new under the sun.”
She shook her head. “Yeah, I guess you are right. But when you’re in the middle of it, you think you are the only one.”
And there you have it.
When you’re in the middle of it, you think you are the only one.
When the Fog Rolls In
Do you know why people are prone to make such foolish moral decisions? Because something always whispers to us that our situations are unique: Nobody has ever felt this way before. No one has had to deal with what I have to deal with. I can handle it. I’m not like everybody else. The statistics don’t apply to me. The statistics don’t apply to my kids. I know what’s best for me. My passion runs deep; love will keep us alive.
As long as you’re convinced that your situation and feelings are unique, you’ll resist our big question. Now, that might seem to contradict the entire premise of the question—after all, your uniqueness is what makes this question so powerful. But in this context, we are not talking about your individuality as it relates to your past, your present, and your future dreams. In that way, you are unique.
But there is nothing unique about your circumstances, your emotions, your desires, and your passions. And as long as you deceive yourself into thinking that you are the first to feel what you are feeling, you will chase those feelings to the neglect of wisdom. And at the end of the day, you will discover that you are not so unique after all. The outcomes are predictable. Lonely is lonely, no matter how much money you make. Addicted is addicted, no matter who you know. Guilty is guilty, no matter what you drive. Depressed is depressed, no matter what you take.
It Cuts Both Ways
Now here’s some good news. In fact, here’s why our question is such a powerful ally in avoiding sexual sin, with all its complications and consequences: While the outcomes of sexual sin are predictable, the decisions that set us up to sin sexually are equally predictable. And—and this is a big and—our question will enable you to see those decisions for what they really are. If you’re willing to face up to the fact that your temptation, circumstances, and feelings are not unique to you, this question will empower you to make choices that will set you up for success rather than failure in this crucial arena of life.
Again, the outcomes of certain behaviors are predictable, as are the steps leading to those behaviors. The sooner we face up to that humbling reality, the sooner we will quit trusting our hearts and choose to ask the indispensable question provided by our heavenly Father for those who want to look back with gratitude rather than regret.
Up until this point, you may feel like I’ve been circling the runway. So please put away your tray table and return your seat to its upright and locked position. And be forewarned, the next few minutes may be a little bumpy.
Think for a moment about your greatest moral regret. That night, that embrace, that purchase, that long glance, walking through that door …
I told you this might be a bit bumpy.
I know … its probably something you work hard not to think about. You may have promised yourself you would never think about it again. And that may have been a good idea. But now that I’ve dredged it up, hold on to it for just a moment. There may even be a whole list for you to choose from. And they may not be in the distant past. Whatever the case, play along and pick one.
Now I want you to think back to the decisions preceding the event or relationship you regret most. At some point you have probably rehearsed some of these decisions in your mind.
I wish I had never taken that job.
I wish I had never called her.
I wish I had never accepted his invitation.
I wish I had never taken that trip.
I wish I had never subscribed to _____.
I wish I had listened to my mama.
If you think back far enough, you can probably string together a series of decisions that led you to the brink of the moment or season you now regret.
My point?
Our greatest moral regrets are always preceded by a series of unwise choices. Not wrong choices, not impermissible, not illegal, but unwise. We choose ourselves to the brink of disaster because none of the choices we make along the way are “wrong.” So we don’t hesitate. Then we defend our actions with the anemic excuse, “I couldn’t help myself,” followed by the equally ridiculous question, “How did I get into this mess?”
A more helpful and honest question to ask is, “How did I get myself into this mess?” The answer to that question is the same for everybody. Everybody. Once we follow our passions, there ain’t nothing new under the sun.
How did we get ourselves into such messes? We made a series of unwise choices—unwise choices that sent us beyond the point of no return. The names and faces change, but the sequences and outcomes are tragically similar. We may think our situations are different and, therefore, what is wise for most isn’t wise for us. But in the end … well, I think we’ve covered that sufficiently.
You know what’s so ironic? When someone we know begins inching toward moral disaster, we can see it so clearly. Take Frank and Sheila, for example.
Office Party
Sheila and Frank work in the same office. Frank is married. Sheila’s single. Sheila is attractive. Frank notices, but he’s a committed husband and father—he made a vow and he plans to keep it.
One day while they’re working together on a team project, Frank thinks, Hey, I could ask Sheila to go to lunch. It’s professional—we’ll talk about work stuff. He feels a slight twinge of hesitation, but he tells himself, There’s nothing wrong with eating lunch with a work associate. We’ve got to eat lunch. Besides, we’ll be in a public restaurant. So he shoots her an e-mail inviting her to lunch.
Sheila reads the e-mail and thinks it a bit odd that Frank would ask her to lunch. He’s married, for one thing, she thinks. I don’t know what we will talk about for an hour. But what can it hurt? Besides, he is pretty influential around here, and there’s certainly nothing wrong with having lunch with a coworker.
So she accepts.
So far, nobody has done anything wrong or even out of the ordinary. But let’s be honest. How wise is it for a married man to go to lunch with a single female coworker whom he finds attractive? In light of his future hopes and dreams for himself and his family, is there any upside to this? And from Sheila’s perspective, what can be gained from lunch with Frank? The risk far outweighs the rewards.
A few weeks later, the team is working late, and when dinnertime rolls around, Frank’s thoughts turn to Sheila. She was easy to talk to and a lot more sophisticated than the guys in the group. Their profanity and stories of busines
s-trip exploits always got on his nerves. He wouldn’t have to endure all of that with Sheila. Again, there is a twinge of hesitation, but he sweeps it aside. Everybody’s got to eat dinner, he thinks. There is nothing wrong with having dinner with a friend.
Sheila is flattered and hungry. Frank was easy to talk to, and since he is married, she knows she doesn’t have to worry about him hitting on her like the less-than-subtle single guys in the group.
Do I even need to finish this? It is so typical. So predictable. And yet, up until this point, nobody has done anything wrong, illegal, or immoral. What Frank and Sheila (and their real-life counterparts) don’t realize is that these are not individual, unrelated decisions they are making. They are on a path. They are moving in a direction—a direction that is obvious to everybody but them. And if you were to drop into their imaginary world and question them about their relationship, they would respond like all of us have responded at one time or another when confronted about the paths we trod: “I’m not doing anything wrong!” And that is deceptively true.
Later That Night …
During dinner, Sheila asks Frank about his family. That ought to establish some safe boundaries, she thinks. Unfortunately, things aren’t going too well with Frank’s marriage. When he tried to share his woes with his friend Denny the week before, Denny just shrugged his shoulders and changed the subject. But Sheila listens. She even asks questions. What’s more, she offers Frank some good advice. If only my wife thought more like this, he muses.