A Resilient Life: You Can Move Ahead No Matter What

by Gordon MacDonald

“Then don’t you think it might be a smart idea to say a thank you?” A bit more silence. Then this: “I am thankful . . . I just don’t want to say it.”

Speaking of peoples where there is defiance against God, he wrote, “For although they knew God, they neither glorified him as God nor gave thanks to him (Rom. 1:21, emphasis mine). Two issues mark decadent societies according to Paul: an unwillingness to acknowledge (or honor) the Creator, and a resistance to gratitude. To put this second idea in words our grandson can understand, the human race just doesn’t want to say thanks. By nature none of us really wants to. Yet this is a primary mark of resilient people as they look into their pasts. They seek for things that call for gratitude. They give thanks to people who have made a difference in their lives. Thanks to God for benefits and blessings that they discover are numberless. Thanks in general that one receives the gift of life and thought and beauty and a thousand other things.

The thankful spirit—the intent beneath the words—is the result of continuous discipline, because gratefulness isn’t a natural or instinctive thing for most of us. Perhaps the fact that nine of the ten never came back illustrates this. Thankfulness is a learned transaction, and it comes with the realization that I neither deserve nor am entitled to blessings.

the resilient person is a reflective person. He or she always looks underneath events, seeking their significance.

Somewhere along the line, Solomon stopped wringing the past for its insights. The present in life became all-important, and he became dominated by his instincts. The man stopped listening, stopped asking for right things, stopped seeing his position as a stewardship.

Number one, I’ve learned to ask questions. First of myself and then of others. Years ago I heard Peter Drucker say to a group of young leaders, “Always ask about the things you are seeing, ‘What does this mean?’” It was a simple but profound instruction. Never go beyond something of note without asking, what is to be learned here? Why was there success or failure? How could this have been done in a better way? What did this cost, and will the benefits justify the expense? Second, I’ve been impressed with a principle that separates mediocre chess players from the great ones: always be looking four, maybe five, moves ahead of the present one. Where does this lead? What are the possible unintended consequences?

They prepare themselves for the “emergencies” of life. They know exactly what has to be accomplished. They keep themselves physically fit. They grow their minds. They harness their emotions. They trim their egos. They open their hearts to the presence of God.

and I want you to remember that moment for the rest of your life. I want you to bear in mind that it makes little difference how fast you run a 100-meter event if the race is 400 meters long. Today you ran the total distance; he ran only a sprint.” The coach had taught me something important about resilience. Too many people see life as a sprint—something fast, furious, quickly finished, bereft of any deep breathing. But life is more than a burst of speed. It is a distance run, and it demands endurance, determination, and a kick at the finish. That all comes from one source: the pursuit of self-mastery . . .discipline.

When we speak of disciplining a child, we mean the process of bringing a young human being into alignment with standards of conviction and behavior that are not necessarily natural to human nature. The disciplinary process includes teaching, modeling, and correction all within a caring and loving but firm context. The end result we seek is referred to as maturity.

The quality of your work reflects on all of us. To set goals and make things happen do not come easily or automatically, but only to the person who pushes him- or herself to higher standards and greater achievements.

We are most free when we are under discipline. This is something that more than a few moderns do not understand. They exalt freedom as the notion that one can do anything he or she wants at any time. And yet no one is freer than the person whose mind, body, and soul are conditioned to grow and flourish.

The difference began in the area of discipline. Looking back on his greatest athletic years, Toomey said: Whatever pursuit you undertake, the requirements should start with a love of what it is that you are pursuing. Once you have selected a sport or a creative activity, the rules are pretty much the same. One of the key elements is the ability to be honest with yourself. Too many athletes do not admit their weaknesses. In order to continue achieving, one must have discipline and adhere to a program. Many athletes do not have a well thought out map on where they are going and how they will ultimately get there.

the doorway to resilience is marked with discipline or self-mastery. I am at that moment in life when the temptations increase to slough off responsibility, to freeze-frame old ideas, to resist change, to let someone else do the heavy lifting. But I will not do that, because the disciplines I’ve learned over the years will not let me.

Resilient people know this, and it does not alarm them. They seek the satisfaction of knowing that every part of their lives is under personal control, and they understand that there is a price to be paid for this.

Discipline brings the spiritual gifts and skills of a person to the highest possible level of effectiveness. “How do you get to Carnegie Hall?” asks the tourist of a New Yorker. Answer: “You practice, man; you practice.”

Discipline develops stamina.

Finally, discipline produces excellence in life and work. By doing things regularly and repetitively, one acquires the ability to do something far more effectively and in a way that inspires others.

resilient people understand in a strange way that it is important to inflict pain upon themselves. To demand that extra something from the body, the mind, the soul, that most people do not naturally want to give. And that makes all the difference.

The self-discipline of the body is not a popular subject today. And the Christian community, which should be leading the way in the care and discipline of the body, leaves much to be desired. We are a people who want to be taken seriously in terms of our opinions regarding the sanctity of life, but we are, I’m afraid, rather choosy about what we think that means.

Caring for and not shaming the body truly go hand in hand .

One breakdown in self-mastery leads to others. Result? A diminution of resilience.

Resilient people believe in a continuously improving mind. Even in their nineties.

The mind is like a muscle. Ignore it, and it becomes flabby. Push it, exercise it, make great demands on it, and it will grow strong and immensely usable.

The undisciplined mind too easily accepts a blanket ideology that offers a “correct” response for everything. One walks through the Christian community knowing full well that an inappropriate response to a political comment, a doctrinal issue, or a matter of social policy can lose friends, a reputation, even a job. The disciplined, trained mind, however, resists the cookie-cutter approach to thought. It weighs every question and asks if Scripture speaks directly or indirectly to the matter. It weighs it in the light of history:

Singleterry was dealing with something resilient people take seriously: the mastery, or the discipline, of emotions.

Emotions must be disciplined, and resilient people work at this. They understand the tension that arises from possessing strong emotions that serve a worthy purpose,

Resilient people are smarter than this. They discipline their emotions and make sure that they accurately reflect reality. They can be sad, joyful, angry, or elated in appropriate ways at appropriate times. Resilient people see their feelings as a significant part of the wholeness of life, but they do not allow them to become the final arbiter of conviction and choice. Yet, they are quite aware of them and take note if any one emotion begins to dominate

What does it mean to discipline the emotions? Three thoughts have come to me in the last years. First, I discipline my emotions when I make sure that they are not blocking the truths I need to hear.

and for the rest of the evening I spoke only when spoken to. Even then my voice must have been edgy. After the meeting, a friend steered me out the door and into a corner. His words, I shall not forget. “You know, your behavior in there was not very classy. Those people were there to help you and to save you from making a bad mistake. But if they learn that you don’t like hearing the word no on occasion, they’ll stop telling you what they think, and you’ll have to face the consequences all on your own.”

Second, I am disciplining my emotions when I make sure that they do not overrule what I know in my heart is good and right.

Third, I am disciplining my emotions when I take moments in a Sabbath to pause and ask, what are my prevailing feelings right now?Do they accurately reflect my situation? If I feel down, do I have reason to be down? If I am elated, does the reality of the moment justify that feeling? Is the anger I feel justified; is it in proportion to the situation?

Finally, I am disciplining my emotions if I am careful to translate them into responsible action. If the feeling is an accurate reflection of the moment, we must act. Sometimes that means holding my emotions in check while I do what needs to be done.

action. It is a fact that every time a man feels a noble impulse without taking action, he becomes less likely ever to take action. In a sense it is true to say that a man has no right to feel sympathy unless he at least tries to put that sympathy into action. An emotion is not something in which to luxuriate; it is something which at the cost of effort and of toil, and of discipline and of sacrifice, must be turned into the stuff of life.

The Scripture reader believes that this ego is part of the creative handiwork of God in the making of humanity, but that the ego is affected by a spiritual virus (shall we say) ever since evil infected the world. From that point on the ego has been both a problem and an asset. When something has the potential for good, you don’t obliterate it. But if it also has potential for being destructive, it must be disciplined, kept under control. This is why those of us who walk in the Christian way think about the great grace of humility.

“Humility,” wrote Archbishop William Temple, “does not mean thinking less of yourself than of other people, nor does it mean having a low opinion of your own gifts. It means freedom from thinking about yourself at all”1(emphasis mine).

As I think about the nature of resilient people, it comes to me that one of the secrets of self-mastery is the deliberate discipline of this thing called the ego, which—left to itself—will betray and weaken us.

Resilient people understand that ego has an insatiable desire for enlargement. Left undisciplined, it becomes addicted to expansion. The interior side builds and builds a false view of self until there is hubris, a Greek term describing a person who is so full of himself that he loses all touch with reality. The exterior side adorns the ego with every symbol of glamour, power, and notoriety that can be acquired.

How illusory is the subject of ego and humility. How impossible it is to reduce the ideas to simple, foolproof formulas. And how fearsome it is to even hint that the challenge of the ego is ever fully met. We all know full well that the issue of the ego is likely to be one’s greatest struggle until the end of life.

But I am so conscious that He uses me, and that it’s not of me that the work is done. The axe cannot boast of trees it has cut down. It could do nothing but for the woodsman. He made it, he sharpened it, he used it, and the moment he throws it aside it becomes only old used iron. Oh, that I may never lose sight of this.

Albert Sweitzer was once asked why he traveled third class wherever he went. “Because there is no fourth class,” he said. The ego is fed in dangerous ways when I take every liberty to elevate my lifestyle in materialistic ways that increasingly separate me from people of lesser means.

There is a small core of friends, I suppose, who would be truthful if they can be sure we will not turn on them. But most of those we call our friends are not likely—using Paul’s words—to speak the truth in love (see Ephesians 4:15). And so, sometimes it is left to our critics to help us tame our egos as they remind us, often in harsh terms, of our dark sides and our poor decisions.

To me, spiritual discipline is relatively uncomplicated. It begins with time—usually early in the morning—when the day is quiet. I have come to love those moments, and often they can extend to an hour or two. It is not that every morning is a rapturous experience, but the collective of the mornings, day after day, builds the spirit and makes of it a dwelling place for the Lord.

one more thing about the elements of resilience. The subject: the importance of personal relationship.Unlike other lessons, this one was not learned on the track, but in the late-night hours, when three of his protégés were stranded and rather desperate. The coach gave us one last tutorial, this time about the meanings of friendship and grace. Just as he had asked me, three years before, to trust him, he had now chosen to trust me and my explanation of our predicament.

The older we get, the more we come to understand the inestimable value of the “happy few,” that inner circle of intimate friends who will always be there long after the lights of the fast and glamorous life have been extinguished. The “happy few” may be the most important treasure one will ever possess this side of heaven. Resilient people know this from experience.

“What’s the secret behind such a laid-back fellowship?” I asked Kristy this morning. “Lingering,” she said, choosing a word I’d never heard her use before. “No one is in a hurry. There’s no pressure to make something happen. People are not burdened by expectations of dress, correctness of opinion, or responsibilities for various programs. They just like being together. They really care about each other. No one is in a hurry to get somewhere else. They just . . . linger.”

We came to believe in the importance of something like an extended family where there would be a deep commitment to meet with one another regularly, to share life and its challenges, and to help each other find out what God was saying to us.

The resilient life—this long-distance race—is not possible without such a personal community. One cannot meet all the needs there are for deep human intimacy within the confines of a marriage alone. There must be others with whom the journey is shared. In fact, if we ask a marriage to provide all of our needs for human intimacy, the marriage may droop under the weight of excessive demands.

Scholars suggest that most of us are capable of knowing about 150 people. In a book called The Tipping Point, author Malcolm Gladwell says, “The figure of 150 seems to represent the maximum number of individuals with whom we can have a genuinely social relationship, the kind of relationship that goes with knowing who they are and how they relate to us.”2 Putting it another way, it’s the number of people you would not feel embarrassed about joining uninvited for a drink if you happened to bump into them in a Starbucks. But then Gladwell identifies another group within the group of 150, a sympathy group. He suggests that this group will number between 10 and 15 people.“Make a list,” he writes, “of all the people you know whose death would leave you truly devastated.”

Life together with a happy few begins with a biblical principle: that God does much of His work in our lives through personal relationships. “A new command I give you,” Jesus said to His disciples just before He went to the cross. “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” (John 13:34–35).

He had not loved these men simply by calling them into meetings so as to organize an institution. Rather, He had engaged them with a challenge, “follow Me,” and promised them that change and growth would be part of the bargain.

Among my most enjoyable activities is my participation in conferences around the world, where men and women in Christian leadership gather for a few days of spiritual refreshment. I like to start the first presentation by saying, “I’m not here to urge you to make your church bigger, or to talk about casting a larger vision, or why you should launch another program. That’s for others to do. I’m here just to talk about you and the state of your soul.” It may be my imagination, but when I say this, I sense a feeling of relief sweep through the audience. The speaker has urged the listener to forget about all the busy stuff and simply concentrate on his or her own spiritual well-being for a few hours. Leaders don’t get to do that very often. Talking about the state of one’s soul doesn’t go very far before the subject of one’s “happy few” comes on the table. Who are the people who populate that inner circle that, presumably, will walk through life with each of us and who will make an inestimable contribution to the development of our resilient life? Raise that subject, and you get a lot of attention. For many there is no happy few. Henri Nouwen was thinking about this when he said, “Most Christian leadership is exercised by people who do not know how to develop healthy, intimate relationships and have opted for power and control instead. Many Christian empire-builders have been people unable to give and receive love.”