The prudent see danger and take refuge,
but the simple keep going and pay the penalty.
—PROVERBS 27:12
One of the best things that happened in my early twenties was that the guy I thought I was going to marry broke my heart. That devastation at first sent me to bed wallowing in a fit of despair and depression. Then it sent me looking for new possibilities to ease the ache of his absence in the bars my coworkers would frequent after work.
One weekend I hit such a low, I refused to get out of bed. After I had hidden for several days in that dark apartment bedroom, my roommate came in and announced I needed two things. She yanked the blinds open and said the first was a little light. Then she held up a newspaper ad for a large church in town. Her second suggestion was clear. In her quirky, Southern drawl, she quipped, “Now this is where you need to be meeting people. Not at them bars you’ve been going to.”
I love that girl for teaching me something profound that day. I needed light. Both in the physical sense and in the spiritual sense. But even more than that I needed a new direction. A direction that would take me where I really wanted to go. Since I didn’t understand that quite yet, I only listened half-heartedly and tucked the newspaper ad between my bed and nightstand.
The next day I gathered myself up just enough to drag myself into work. After work, several of the guys were heading to the bar down the street. I needed some fun, I reasoned, so off I went.
A couple of hours later we were playing pool and drinking. One of the guys offered to make me a late dinner back at his place. I honestly wanted to go. I was lonely. I was miserable. I was hungry. But I pictured my roommate holding up that ad for church and something wrestled my heart into declining his offer.
Had I gone on that date with the guy from the bar, it would have set my vulnerable heart on a vulnerable path. I don’t want to presume I know where it would have taken me. But I do know it wouldn’t have taken me closer to the truth I needed.
That next night after work, I pulled the ad out and scanned it. The next Sunday I went to that church.
Now, I’m not saying the act of going to church fixes everything. Just as simply looking at a restaurant menu won’t give you nourishment. We’ve got to engage with what’s offered if it’s going to do us any good. But putting my heart in a place to receive truth certainly got me going in a completely different direction. This was a good place with good directions and solid friends I still have to this day.
Our decisions aren’t just isolated choices. Our decisions point our lives in the directions we’re about to head.
I didn’t know how to chase down a decision at that point. But had I known, I would have seen how the bar scene would lead me to one place, and the church scene to the place I really needed to go.
Our decisions aren’t just isolated choices. Our decisions point our lives in the directions we’re about to head. Show me a decision and I’ll show you a direction. We’ve got to get good at chasing down our decisions. See where they will take us. And make sure that’s really where we want to go.
What’s a decision you are in the midst of making? Chase it down. If you do this, where will it most likely lead? And then what? And then? Keep going until you walk it all the way out.
I know this may sound like a lot of work just to make a decision, but Proverbs 27:12 reminds us why it is so important to make sure we know the direction our lives are headed: “The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and pay the penalty.”
This isn’t meant to make you afraid to make the decision. It’s to help you more clearly discern the package deal that comes with the decisions we make. And clarity should dispel the fear. I’d much prefer to know what I’m getting into than have it barreling toward me unaware.
Dear Lord, please give me insight to chase down the decision I’m facing. I want to understand where it might take me—and make a decision that will draw me closer to You. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.