One of my favorite commercials these days features four young adults who are in an obviously distressing situation, on the run, and trying to figure out what to do. Shall they hide in the attic or basement of the creepy house they just stumbled upon, or get into the running car? Eventually they decide to hide in an old shed behind a couple dozen suspended chain saws. The commercial then cuts to an image of a guy with a cheap hockey goalie mask propped up on his head—ostensibly a serial killer—who rolls his eyes. And a voice comes on saying, “If you’re in a horror movie, you make poor decisions—that’s what you do.” The announcer then highlights how Geico can save you 15% or more on car insurance because that’s what they do.
We all make poor decisions from time to time. We have situations where our choices create regret and, if afforded the opportunity, we’d jump at the chance for a “do over.” But unfortunately, life doesn’t work that way. We must live with the consequences of the decisions we make.
Every so often, Angie and I watch “Dateline” or “48 Hours” or “20/20.” And frequently the storyline will be a whodunit-type mystery where they’ll introduce you to a person who ends up mysteriously missing or dead and then walk you through their life, help you get to know some of their family and friends, and track how law enforcement was able to follow the trail and identify the person responsible for the crime. But before they do that, they typically try to paint the victim as a sympathetic person—the friendly neighbor who everybody loved … the co-worker whose cheery attitude brightened up the office … the student who was popular with his/her classmates and had a winsome smile. They are trying to create a sense of, “Why would anyone want to harm this person?” in the hearts of viewers.
Yet almost invariably we come to learn this person had a dark side—she started seeing a man that was married, or he became involved with some people that were shady and suspicious. These decisions weren’t necessarily the kind of thing that would place them squarely in harm’s way—they weren’t by definition immoral or unlawful or wrong. But they were ill-advised and foolhardy. They flirted with disaster to where the unfortunate outcome isn’t a total surprise. That’s not to imply that, because they made these decisions, they had it coming. But it suggests this pristine reputation that had been created to where we’re thinking, “Who would want to do something bad to a person like this?” wasn’t as untainted as we’d been led to believe.
Andy Stanley, in his book The Best Question Ever, talks about how, when we make choices, we typically begin by asking ourselves, “Is there anything wrong with it?” The assumption is that if there’s nothing unlawful or wrong with what we’re considering, it must be OK. If there’s not a specific prohibition against it, it must be an acceptable option. The problem is this kind of thinking typically leads to another question that, while we rarely verbalize it, tends to drive our choices: “How close can I get to the line between right and wrong without actually doing something wrong?” (If you’ve ever been on a diet, you know all about this question.) And once we reach that point, it’s only a short leap to “How far over the line can I go without actually experiencing negative consequences? At what point will I encounter an adverse or unwanted outcome?”
The reason this is such a problem is that once we start operating from this framework, we never know where the unwanted outcome line is until it’s too late. And then it descends into a situation we can’t control. The slippery and subtle slope that began by asking, “Is there anything wrong with it?” ultimately leads to a place where we find ourselves asking, “How did I get myself into this mess?” We dance on the edge of disaster thinking we can be the person that beats the odds … that we’ll be the exception.
Bottom line—what’s legally and culturally permissible isn’t always what’s best for us. I know that’s a message many people don’t want to hear. But just because it’s unpopular doesn’t mean it’s false. A far more helpful filter, Stanley says, is, instead of beginning with the question, “Is there anything wrong with it?” is to begin by asking, “What is the wise thing to do?”
I don’t know that I’ve ever met anyone who woke up one morning and said, “You know, I think I’d like to screw up my life today!” But I’ve met a number of people who didn’t plan not to—i.e., they didn’t build the necessary safeguards or buffers into their lives that could ensure a happy, beneficial outcome. Nobody plans to end up addicted … or in a broken marriage … or raising rebellious, unruly children … or buried under a mountain of debt. But at the same time, many times we don’t take the wise and prudent steps necessary to prevent such an outcome.
If we’ll analyze everything through the lens of what is the wise thing to do, perhaps we’ll prevent ourselves from ending up in a horror film of our own making. Because when we find ourselves enmeshed in negative circumstances, more times than not it’s because of some poor decisions we made along the way.