The Principle of the Path is mind-numbingly obvious. That's not to say that I don't love Andy Stanley's book; I do! It might be my favorite that we've read so far. He's a funny writer; and he's able to get to the point quickly—a literary aptitude I really appreciate.
And he's right. The direction you are currently traveling—relationally, financially, spiritually and so on—will determine where you end up in each of those respective areas. Oftentimes, we don't end up where we want to be. In my opinion, there are two reasons for that.
Stanley offers one of them: We know that in order to get what we want later, we need to sacrifice and practice self-control now. But we don't want to deny ourselves now. It's human nature; we want to be happy in the moment. As Stanley writes, on page 57: "Our problem stems from the fact that we are not on a quest to know what's true, what's right, what's honorable. We are on a happiness quest. And our quest for happiness often trumps our appreciation for and pursuit of what's true."
Right on. I agree. But it's not so simple as that. There's a second reason why we don't end up at the destination we planned…
If you're anything like me, you have LOTS of destinations in mind. You want a strong marriage AND you want to give your kids everything you have AND you want an intimate walk with God AND a thriving (or at least somewhat meaningful) career AND you want to be financially secure AND the list goes on.
The problem for me has never been a lack of planning or self-control. The problem is that I have too many destinations in mind, and frankly, I'm not willing to give any of them up. I don't relate to Stanley's examples—which are, by and large, about people who could make easy changes if only they had self-control.
A husband wants his kids to respect him…but then he openly flirts with other women in the neighborhood.
A young Christian wants intimacy with God…but then he gets up and reads the newspaper instead of the Bible.
In examples like these, the person is choosing laziness or instant gratification over hard work. The person is lacking self-control. My issue—and that of most of my friends—is much more subtle. It's not a matter of giving up a bad habit or training myself to focus on what's true, what's right and what's honorable. If I'm not arriving at my chosen destination, it's only because I'm busy seeking the truth, rightness and honor that lead to another important destination.
An hour or so ago, I had a rare window of time to myself. I thought, "I need to go and write my book report for Next Generation Mentoring." But my husband was sitting on the porch, and seemed open to sitting and talking. In this situation, there are two destinations to consider. One is following the direction of spiritual intimacy with God. The other is following the direction of strengthening my marriage. Both are good destinations. In this case, I chose my husband, and pushed off my spiritual time.
My day—all of my days, in fact—are composed of making such choices. Oh, how I wish it were a matter of choosing whether to casually flip through the newspaper or to read the Bible. It's not. It's about prioritizing which areas to give my self-control to. There are some positive destinations I will never reach, because other positive destinations will take precedence. This is the point where I enter The Principle of the Path.
Which of my destinations is most important to me? Here is where I go off course. If I'm being totally honest, I probably put being a good mother slightly ahead of being a good wife. If I had to let one of them slide—my marriage or my commitment to my children—my natural inclination is to lean towards my children. They are so easy to love; it takes more work to love and care for my complicated, grown-up husband. Do I have to choose one over the other? No. But there are little decisions to make, all through the day and night. I'm called to choose between husband and children constantly. And my default is the children.
As much as I liked this book, I feel that Stanley left out the last chapter. He established that we need to recognize (a) that we're often not on the right path and (b) that the reason we're not on the right path is because our pursuit of happiness trumps our pursuit of what's true and right.
But the most important question is: How do we motivate ourselves to pursue what's true and right, even when it goes against our own comfort level or desires? How do I prioritize my husband, when I'd rather prioritize my children? On pages 153-154, Stanley gives his answer. Here's my paraphrase of it: "Now that you know the truth about your path, why not change course?"
And…that's how he ends his argument. Well, I have to say that this doesn't work for me. Just knowing that I'm giving in to my sinful heart, and then deciding to change course, is not going to keep me from making the same mistakes again. If just knowing the truth allowed me to change, I would have done it long ago.
Here's the point that Stanley should have been leading up to: Jesus Christ knows my selfishness. "Well do I know your treachery," God told the Israelites through the prophet Isaiah. Jesus Christ knows my treachery. And still He chose to endure my much-deserved punishment. What's my response to that?
I am certain of His love for me, even when I go on sinning. So my motivation to change is all about Him. Why should I make less selfish choices? Because it's the right thing to do, and also because the God who created the universe is in my corner, quietly, gently rooting for me. I may grieve his heart every day, with every bad decision I make, but He faithfully watches over me, and silently leads me on. I am so selfish I could cry. But what really makes me cry is that He sticks around anyway. When I remember His gentle, constant love for me, I want to do the right thing. For Him, I want to choose the least selfish, best possible destination.
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