Could'a, Would'a, Should'a
The more experiences I accumulate, and more pointedly, the more failures I experience, the more I find the "could'a, would'a, should'a" conversation to be mostly unhelpful. I'm not saying that we should not seek to learn from mistakes and failures and there is a lot that can be gleaned from studying history, both our own as individuals and history in general. But there is a point at which this process transitions from cathartic and enlightening to wallowing in self-pity or worse, judgment, anger, bitterness, and condemnation. Its a slippery slope. I find myself often treading ever so closely to the edge of the judgement, anger, bitterness, and condemnation "cliff" with those I love the most . . . ok. . . my wife. You were all thinking it anyway.
As Jess and I walk through life together and share common experiences, some of which blow up right in our faces in a bad way (i.e. failure), it is helpful to consider how we might have done things differently had we known better. And how we might do things differently if/when the future serves up another curve ball. We have a "could'a, would'a, should'a" conversation.
But too often I (and she - occasionally) will fly right past the helpful part of reflection and speed at a break-neck pace to the part where we blame each other for the resultant failure. I point out all the things SHE should have done differently. Then if time permits, I will jump up on the soap box and preach a mini-sermon to her, wag my finger a bit, and scold her for not thinking and acting exactly like I would have which, of course, would have been the appropriate/best way of thinking/acting. Or sometimes I'll just give a general scolding for some minor character flaw that this situation has revealed in her like fear or carelessness or whatever. Yeah, I can be a real a jackass.
The other thing that I do without a second thought in a "could'a would'a should'a"conversation is start to wallow in self-pity and disappointment. With vivid clarity I can recall every detail of the derailment and all that was said or done and how this or that went wrong. I especially enjoy to recalling the parts where I was wronged so I can play the victim and take no responsibility for my contributions to the failure. Then if I'm really in a mood I get sassy with God and complain to Him about how He contributed to the failure because He's not doing His job. Yeah, I can be a huge jackass.
As I've watched this pattern repeat itself in my life I think I'm gaining some clarity on myself and the specific nature of my own brokenness. The longer I engage in the "could'a, would'a, should'a" conversation the more I end up feeling the weight of condemnation that usually follows a failure. I begin to move slowly from a positive attitude where I'm eager to learn from mistakes, and migrate to a negative attitude where I condemn myself. And the voice that shouts the loudest criticisms is the one in my own head. "Matt, why didn't you think this through more?" "Matt, why didn't you trust your gut more?" "Matt why did you leap before you looked?" "Matt you always do this..." And the longer I dwell here the longer, and uglier the list gets.
What I've come to realize is that this is the voice of my enemy. The Bible calls him The Accuser. And once I start to hear him, and give him an audience for even a second, the seeds of wallowing in self-pity, judgment, anger, bitterness, and condemnation begin to take root. Anyone want to guess what my external response is to those around me? Yep . . . condemnation. And if you're within an arms reach you're gonna get an ear full.
Jess is usually the other person participating in these conversations and the story goes. I start judging her because I feel judged. I condemn her because I feel condemned. I see her "specs" and do my best to ignore my "planks". The conversation devolves into an argument which devolves into a hurtful and disrespectful exchange that leaves us both wounded. "Could'a, would'a, should'a" disengaged from the conversation altogether.
Here's the interesting thing. Sometimes there is no "could'a, would'a should'a" conversation to be had. What possible "could'a, would'a, should'a" conversation could you have about . . . say . . . a spiritual wilderness experience? For example, when Jesus was lead into the desert after his baptism to be tempted He suffered hunger, near starvation, dehydration, loneliness, demonic spiritual attack, and various other difficulties most of us can't imagine. When he came back do we really think he had a "should'a, would'a, could'a conversation? Do we think he came back and said, "Man, next time I'm going to take some food, some sun screen, and my Keens."
Or perhaps a more likely "could'a, would'a should'a" conversation might have been, "What were my mother, father, and cousin thinking sending me go off like that without some food and water? Don't they know I could have died out there? Why didn't they come looking for me after a few days? What is my Heavenly Father trying to do by subjecting me to this torture?" He may have had those thoughts. He was a man after all. He might have been tempted to dwell in the dark places of a "could'a, would'a should'a" conversation that devolved into a bitter and resentful blame game where his family, and God were the losers.
The Bible doesn't really tell us what He was thinking about His wilderness experience. But we do know this. There was no need for lament about a lack of food, water, or concern from His family. Testing in the wilderness was the method chosen by God to bring about growth. The struggle was the point.
My heavily Greek-influenced thinking leads me to believe that through clever analysis, planning, preparation, and solid logic, I can make any situation yield my desired outcome. And to make matters worse, I have had numerous experiences that show a clear connection between my efforts and outcomes which reinforces this idea. Fair enough. Cause and effect are in place. Great. But what about when you're doing everything right and things still blow up. What about times when instead of victory there is failure?
My new hypothesis is that this is the clever, merciful design of a King and Father who wants to remind me that He's in charge - despite my best efforts at planning, preparing, and exercising my own "reign". This is the kind hand of a King that has a plan of His own that He's most interested in executing and because I've asked him if I can be a part of it, He's going to include me. Only problem is that this means that I might not be able to execute MY plan. This might mean that I'm going to suffer. This might mean that I'm going to have wilderness experiences, failures, sorrow, and loss. According to His plan my only obligation when I report for duty is to pick up my cross . . . which is a variation of His cross.
So in the end I'm still going to plan things. I'm still going to prepare and use my analytical mind to make good decisions. I'm also going to still pray and seek supernatural wisdom. But the key for me is to hold loosely to my plans and ideas and don't bath everything unexpected or hard in a could'a, would'a, should'a conversation. Sometimes there's no use in asking "Why?"
I think this will save me from a lot of the sadness I feel when things don't go "right" according to me. I think this will help me stay focused on things ahead and hopeful for the future. I think this will help me put more faith in what God is doing and remind me to pray/listen more. I think this will help Jess and I relate in healthier ways as we process life and the events that unfold before us together. In the end, I think this will help.
As Jess and I walk through life together and share common experiences, some of which blow up right in our faces in a bad way (i.e. failure), it is helpful to consider how we might have done things differently had we known better. And how we might do things differently if/when the future serves up another curve ball. We have a "could'a, would'a, should'a" conversation.
But too often I (and she - occasionally) will fly right past the helpful part of reflection and speed at a break-neck pace to the part where we blame each other for the resultant failure. I point out all the things SHE should have done differently. Then if time permits, I will jump up on the soap box and preach a mini-sermon to her, wag my finger a bit, and scold her for not thinking and acting exactly like I would have which, of course, would have been the appropriate/best way of thinking/acting. Or sometimes I'll just give a general scolding for some minor character flaw that this situation has revealed in her like fear or carelessness or whatever. Yeah, I can be a real a jackass.
The other thing that I do without a second thought in a "could'a would'a should'a"conversation is start to wallow in self-pity and disappointment. With vivid clarity I can recall every detail of the derailment and all that was said or done and how this or that went wrong. I especially enjoy to recalling the parts where I was wronged so I can play the victim and take no responsibility for my contributions to the failure. Then if I'm really in a mood I get sassy with God and complain to Him about how He contributed to the failure because He's not doing His job. Yeah, I can be a huge jackass.
As I've watched this pattern repeat itself in my life I think I'm gaining some clarity on myself and the specific nature of my own brokenness. The longer I engage in the "could'a, would'a, should'a" conversation the more I end up feeling the weight of condemnation that usually follows a failure. I begin to move slowly from a positive attitude where I'm eager to learn from mistakes, and migrate to a negative attitude where I condemn myself. And the voice that shouts the loudest criticisms is the one in my own head. "Matt, why didn't you think this through more?" "Matt, why didn't you trust your gut more?" "Matt why did you leap before you looked?" "Matt you always do this..." And the longer I dwell here the longer, and uglier the list gets.
What I've come to realize is that this is the voice of my enemy. The Bible calls him The Accuser. And once I start to hear him, and give him an audience for even a second, the seeds of wallowing in self-pity, judgment, anger, bitterness, and condemnation begin to take root. Anyone want to guess what my external response is to those around me? Yep . . . condemnation. And if you're within an arms reach you're gonna get an ear full.
Jess is usually the other person participating in these conversations and the story goes. I start judging her because I feel judged. I condemn her because I feel condemned. I see her "specs" and do my best to ignore my "planks". The conversation devolves into an argument which devolves into a hurtful and disrespectful exchange that leaves us both wounded. "Could'a, would'a, should'a" disengaged from the conversation altogether.
Here's the interesting thing. Sometimes there is no "could'a, would'a should'a" conversation to be had. What possible "could'a, would'a, should'a" conversation could you have about . . . say . . . a spiritual wilderness experience? For example, when Jesus was lead into the desert after his baptism to be tempted He suffered hunger, near starvation, dehydration, loneliness, demonic spiritual attack, and various other difficulties most of us can't imagine. When he came back do we really think he had a "should'a, would'a, could'a conversation? Do we think he came back and said, "Man, next time I'm going to take some food, some sun screen, and my Keens."
Or perhaps a more likely "could'a, would'a should'a" conversation might have been, "What were my mother, father, and cousin thinking sending me go off like that without some food and water? Don't they know I could have died out there? Why didn't they come looking for me after a few days? What is my Heavenly Father trying to do by subjecting me to this torture?" He may have had those thoughts. He was a man after all. He might have been tempted to dwell in the dark places of a "could'a, would'a should'a" conversation that devolved into a bitter and resentful blame game where his family, and God were the losers.
The Bible doesn't really tell us what He was thinking about His wilderness experience. But we do know this. There was no need for lament about a lack of food, water, or concern from His family. Testing in the wilderness was the method chosen by God to bring about growth. The struggle was the point.
My heavily Greek-influenced thinking leads me to believe that through clever analysis, planning, preparation, and solid logic, I can make any situation yield my desired outcome. And to make matters worse, I have had numerous experiences that show a clear connection between my efforts and outcomes which reinforces this idea. Fair enough. Cause and effect are in place. Great. But what about when you're doing everything right and things still blow up. What about times when instead of victory there is failure?
My new hypothesis is that this is the clever, merciful design of a King and Father who wants to remind me that He's in charge - despite my best efforts at planning, preparing, and exercising my own "reign". This is the kind hand of a King that has a plan of His own that He's most interested in executing and because I've asked him if I can be a part of it, He's going to include me. Only problem is that this means that I might not be able to execute MY plan. This might mean that I'm going to suffer. This might mean that I'm going to have wilderness experiences, failures, sorrow, and loss. According to His plan my only obligation when I report for duty is to pick up my cross . . . which is a variation of His cross.
So in the end I'm still going to plan things. I'm still going to prepare and use my analytical mind to make good decisions. I'm also going to still pray and seek supernatural wisdom. But the key for me is to hold loosely to my plans and ideas and don't bath everything unexpected or hard in a could'a, would'a, should'a conversation. Sometimes there's no use in asking "Why?"
I think this will save me from a lot of the sadness I feel when things don't go "right" according to me. I think this will help me stay focused on things ahead and hopeful for the future. I think this will help me put more faith in what God is doing and remind me to pray/listen more. I think this will help Jess and I relate in healthier ways as we process life and the events that unfold before us together. In the end, I think this will help.
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