February 13, 2023

Thinking about thinking

(If you noticed, I missed last week’s letter. That’s all to say I had to observe the very real limits of human time. Thanks for understanding!)

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I’ve been thinking a lot about thinking recently. It probably started when I listened to Amy Julia Becker’s podcast interview with Suzanne Stabile, who had released her third Enneagram book, The Journey Toward Wholeness.

In that interview (and book, which I subsequently read), Stabile explains that each of the Enneagram numbers has a “dominant,” “repressed,” and “support” center of thinking, feeling, and, doing. Ones, I learned, are doing dominant and thinking repressed. We often act first from the impulse of the gut, and our rational, deliberative decision-making process lags behind instinctual action.

You can see how this can get a person into trouble. In my own case, when it comes to offering a yes to the world, in the moment, I can often be convinced of my capacity, compelled by the obvious rightness of the thing. But sometimes my initial gut “yes” is followed by realism, even regret. I remember all the other yeses I’ve said. I grapple with the complicated motivations that led me to the yes in the moment. I see my life in the aggregate, and I understand that I am unwisely living beyond my limits.

Thinking: this, then, is a capacity I need to develop. (And as Suzanne describes in the podcast, the capacity for weighing options, considering alternatives, prayerfully discerning the will of God is not the same thing as holding court with the inner critic.)

After mulling over this learning from Suzanne, I brought this question to my spiritual director: what might be good thinking practices for me? She and I came up with a list, and I’ve since added to it. If it’s helpful to you (because we all need to think), I’ll offer that list to you.

For me, practices of good thinking include:

1.     Writing and keeping a rule of life.

I know I’ve been beating that drum for a while here. Quite honestly, given that I’m further developing an intensive workshop for people interested in this practice, I’m probably not going to stop any time soon.

But here’s how a rule of life helps me think. It asks me to consider the faithful habits and practices God is inviting me, and that’s process that involves prayer and thinking. To write a rule of life, one must ask and answer good questions like, “Who is my neighbor?” “What are my constraints?” “What providences, gifts, and opportunities might be used by God in this season of my life?”

A rule of life can’t be written quickly. It’s a prayerful, deliberative process.

2.     Time.

That brings me to a second help in thinking: putting space between myself and the actual decision. If I slow down, let some of the initial enthusiasm and optimism recede, I start to see more clearly whether it’s reasonable that I step toward something (or away from something).

We can feel unnecessarily pressured, within ourselves and by others, to make quick decisions. But here’s a good line to use in those falsely urgent moments: “I’m not able to make that decision yet. I’m thinking.”

3.     Partnership.

If you’ve read In Good Time, you’ll know the third habit I suggest—for living a different story of time—is to belong. In this context of thinking, belonging means that good decisions aren’t made alone. Good decisions are considered alongside wise and Spirit-filled people: a spouse, a friend, a mentor, a pastor, a spiritual director. I’m especially blessed to have a husband who is very gifted in thinking. He pushes me to ask the practical questions and to be honest about limits I’d otherwise ignore. I’m so grateful for him (and yes, sometimes annoyed that he won’t dream as big as me).

4.     Personal discernment questions.

Years ago, I wrote a list of questions to put to myself about various invitations I received. (Discernment is especially tricky for me when it comes to work and ministry.) There’s nothing magical about my list of questions, which are meant to help me confront common pitfalls of my own decision-making. (What administrative time will this commitment require? How will my family be affected? Is this something I’m uniquely gifted to do? Is this a fitting season to step toward this invitation?)

Creating your own list of discernment questions would be even better. 

5.     Journaling.

I have consistently journaled for years—no, decades.  I know that some people cringe at the practice, and it probably isn’t for everyone. But even my mathematical, actuarial husband has come to see the benefits of asking and answering (on paper) some regular reflection questions. (I’ve got a whole bunch of reflection questions listed here, if you’re interested.)

These questions require me to examine my life in God’s presence. They interrupt the busy motion of the day, which would often keep me from ignoring heart-level change. It’s on the page that I often do my best thinking, which is certainly one reason I’m a writer.

And yes, I suppose I should state the obvious. My writing life is a discipline of thinking. It’s one reason I keep at these Monday letters. Thanks to all of you for being companions of thinking here.

Yours,

Jen