by Eddie Pipkin

Image by Greg Reese from Pixabay

We make a regular six-hour interstate drive up I-75 once a month.  We trek up the infamous Interstate from central Florida to central Georgia and back again to visit my mom.  We’ve been making that drive for many years, so we know it well, but over the last half-decade it’s become increasingly congested.  There are stretches of it that are now predictably stop and go, and, as you know, that’s a miserable experience, so we’re constantly figuring out how to hack it to reduce the stress.  On our last trip, my wife directed me to try a tactic of which I was skeptical, but which turned out to be surprisingly effective.  Sometimes a solution is counterintuitive.  Sometimes it pays to listen to someone with unconventional wisdom.

As we approached the dreaded backup, I happened to be driving, and she said, “Listen, I know this is not going to make any sense, but I’ve been paying very close attention to cars in the different lanes when we get into these traffic jams, and you should get in the right lane.”

“The right lane?” I said, eyebrows arched appropriately to express my disdain.

“I know, I know,” she said.  “Just try it.”

I got in the right lane.  (And right here, in this public space, I will confess what you are already guessing.  Of course, I did as she said and got immediately into the right lane: I did it to prove her wrong.)

Now, I’m more of the grin-and-bear-it mindset; this travail is suffering we must endure, so we might as well just stay in our lane and get on with it; jockeying from lane to lane is just amping the stress levels.  That’s my philosophy.  My brilliant wife is more analytical in approach: every challenge is a puzzle to be solved.  Collect the data; posit a hypothesis; test the hypothesis.

I got in the right lane (of three lanes); I picked out a gaudy red SUV with standout stickers to track as our left lane stalking horse; then we spasmodically surged forward for the next 10 miles.  Surely, I assumed, the left lane would be faster, or if everyone was making that assumption and acting accordingly, perhaps the middle lane would be the dark horse winner.  But no way, no how, could the right lane, filled with tractor trailers and other oversized vehicles, be the speediest.

The right lane was the fastest.

Her hypothesis proved correct.  I was flabbergasted.  Also delighted.  While the other lanes were a sea of flashing brake lights and a chorus of tire squeals from sudden stops, followed by gunning engines racing forward to the next slam of the brakes, our lane – the right lane, the disdained “slow lane” – moved along slowly but smoothly.

We pondered many possibilities as to why this unexpected outcome held true.  Perhaps because it was full of trucks piloted by professional drivers, they were calmer and had more expertise at patiently maintaining a steady and safe pace for the conditions.  The trucks certainly preserved a wider gap between themselves and other vehicles, meaning they could absorb slowdowns and stoppages more fluidly.  They almost never had to come to a complete stop; they were subverting the dreaded accordion effect.  Additionally, the drivers in the most hurry were following the conventional wisdom and desperately trying to get to the left – the supposed “fast lane” – frequently diving in between two cars and causing other drivers to hit their breaks to avoid a crash.  Frantic swerving into the right lane was not a corresponding condition.

My wife, the patient observer, willing to accept a challenge without prejudgment, had defied the conventional wisdom and used her God-given senses to reach a logical conclusion.

Why, as ministry professionals, do we seem to struggle so hard to do follow this excellent practice?  Why are we so susceptible to conventional wisdom, so oblivious to observable facts, and so obstinate when it comes to taking counsel from others?

These are mysteries as old as time:

  • We put too much faith in our own brilliance.

We are extraordinarily confident in our own opinions, and even if we’re not – if we’re unsure or indecisive or anxious – we defensively hold on to our initial judgments because giving them up feels like weakness.

  • We discount evidence that disagrees with our preconceived notions.

When confronted with facts, figures, and testimonials that contrast with our cherished assertions, we question their truth or sometimes the motives of those who point them out.

  • We don’t trust the insights of others.

As confident as we are in our own wisdom, we are as suspicious of the capabilities and observations of others.

  • We know what the real answer is, but we don’t want to acknowledge it because we don’t want to take the steps that are required to bring change.

This is a big one, both in the ministry space and in our personal evolution as human beings.  We build entire superstructures of narratives in which our explanations of the way things are and ought to be are THE WAY.  It’s so hard to be objective about our own story, and the stories of the institutions which we lead.

If we can get some distance – and this is achieved through intentionality, good process, and good practice – we can find our way to answers that, though they may cause some initial struggle to bring to fruition, will make everyone’s lives better.

I would estimate that choosing to ride in the right lane through the backups on our road trip salvaged only a few minutes from our overall journey.  It wasn’t a significant time savings.  It was, however, a much calmer and stress-free experience.  We felt less exhausted when we arrived home.  That would be a worthy outcome of accepting any counterintuitive tactic.

As I am writing this, I am reminded of the power of surrounding ourselves of good people who have our best interests and the interests of our organizations at heart, but who are fearless and fair in their delivery of the truth.  Famously, Abraham Lincoln, always a guiding light in understanding effective moral leadership, assembled his Team of Rivals, a collection of political advisors with contrasting political perspectives and approaches.  Some of these men had been his political adversaries, but though they differed in outlook, they all were dedicated to the preservation of democracy and the honorable progress of America.  It was by no means always smooth sailing, but together they worked through the nation’s most critical hour.  Lincoln credited this team with keeping him grounded and clear-sighted.

From such a position, checked in our strongest passions and deferential to the myriad views swirling around us, we make more fruitful decisions.  We remain true to who we are called to be without losing respect for others and without losing sight of the bigger picture.

How do you do at following suggestions that go against the conventional grain?  Do you immediately scoff at counterintuitive ideas?  Or do are you willing to try them out?  Do you value the wisdom, insights, and ideas of others, especially when they are differently informed than your own?  What good habits do you have that promote giving them a fair hearing?  Share your stories (inspirational and problematic) in the comments section.