A nearby church asked me to provide leadership and guidance to cover the time between one minister leaving and another being appointed. I agreed. The workload would be minimal – preach occasionally, conduct funerals and weddings, and chair the once a month leadership meetings.
The date came for their leaders to meet. I was handed an agenda, and after preliminaries we got to ‘Matters arising from the minutes of the last meeting’, and there I read ‘First Aid Kit’. Three so simple words but, it turned out, not at all a simple matter.
“So, what is the issue about a first aid kit?” I asked. “Well,” I was told, “we’ve been discussing whether to buy a first aid kit.” This seemed a ‘no-brainer’ to me, but it became clear there were a whole variety of opinions about a first aid kit among the leaders. After hearing those opinions for half an hour, I forced a vote, and a majority agreed the church should have a first aid kit. Relieved, I sighed “I’m glad that’s over.”
It wasn’t over. Next meeting, under ‘Matters arising…’ was once again the subject of the ‘First Aid Kit’. “We decided that,” I said. “Yes,” came the reply, “but we didn’t decide which first aid kit.” I groaned. But, with relish, the leaders debated exactly what should be in a first aid kit. Again I tolerated this for 30 minutes, and then resorted to the favourite church way of handling awkward issues by appointing a committee to research first aid kits.
Next month, next agenda, and the three words I’d grown to hate appeared again: First Aid Kit. Thankfully the committee had researched, and now reported that First Aid Kit Number 2, as sold by a major pharmacy chain, would be perfect. Great. Matter resolved.
Matter not resolved. Next meeting’s agenda: First Aid Kit. “Surely we decided this…”. Not really, it seemed. “Yes, we decided which first aid kit, but we didn’t decide who would buy it.” Really? Yet more discussion, in which my only achievements were to get them to agree who would buy it, and to take only 15 minutes to make that decision. At last the subject of the first aid kit was finished. No, of course it wasn’t. Month after month, meeting after meeting, First Aid Kit was the monster that ate our discussion time. A First Aid Kit was always on the agenda, but never on the premises. Why not? Many more reasons:
- “We didn’t decide where it should be kept”
- “We didn’t discuss whether a first aid kit cupboard should be labelled First Aid Kit Cupboard”
- “We didn’t determine who would be authorised to administer first aid”
- “We didn’t explore whether our church insurance covered liability for providing people with medical help”
- “We didn’t choose who would maintain the contents of the first aid kit”
There were more reasons than those, but some psychologists believe the brain can repress traumatic memories, and over the years my brain has taken pity on me by hiding the rest of that saga. All I’m sure of is that the church got a new minister before they ever got a first aid kit.
Those painful discussions were my worst ever experience of ‘how to not make a decision’. The story may make us smile, but we may also have experience of finding the hardest thing about making a decision is actually making a decision. By that I mean a final decision, and, hardest of all, a final decision about something that matters to us.
But why do we find it so hard to make decisions? The simple answer is that people are unique – all different in our thinking, habits, and preferences – so what I would struggle to decide might seem straightforward to you. What attracts me, what frightens me, what confuses me, what is sensitive for me, none of these may be the same for you. Add to that how people and circumstances around us affect our decision-making. A 17-year-old told me she wanted to get married to get away from her parents. But another person, well through her thirties, kept putting off a wedding in hope that her parents would accept the man in her life. There is no single reason why we struggle to make decisions.
However, accepting many factors are involved, I’ve compiled a list of five common reasons why decisions get delayed or never happen.
When we’re comfortable with things as they are – so don’t want change Even when offered a wonderful new opportunity, the person happy with their life is super-slow to make any decision which will disturb their comfort. And there could be good reasons not to change, such as children settled in school, or because moving away might ruin a spouse’s career, or poor health could mean it’s wise to stay where the best treatment is available. But, for others, the reasons for resisting change are not so clear. That happens, for example, when someone feels safe in their present situation, while what the future holds seems risky. So, they think… and think… and think but never actually decide to change. (I wrote about how I had that exact experience when I was ten years old – see https://occasionallywise.com/2021/01/09/going-out-on-a-limb/)
When something is so good, we can’t imagine it ending I feel like that when I don’t want an exciting book to end. Occasionally I’ve enjoyed a film so much I’m sad when the titles roll. Or a holiday is so wonderful we can’t contemplate going home. Or work is so satisfying we can’t imagine doing anything else. We have the ‘don’t let it end’ reaction anytime we don’t want an activity, event, or relationship to come to a finish.
I wrote before about the retirement of an elderly journalist. He’d worked in the office for 40 years. The next working day after his retirement he was back in the office, and the next day, and the next, and the next and so on. He’d loved his work, and simply couldn’t let it end. (You can read that story here: https://occasionallywise.com/2025/03/29/keep-on-keeping-on/)
The more we love anything, the harder it is to let it go. Yet that puts us in a kind of prison cell. We could open the door and walk free but we choose to stay. So no matter how wonderful what lies ahead, we never experience it because we can’t let go of what we have already.
When we fear what others will think Some decisions are unpopular. And the more we care about what people think about us and our choices the less able we are to make a hard decision. Even easy decisions become tough when we fear other people’s opinions. Here are both big and small decisions people can find hard to make.
- Creating a radical new look with a hairstyle change
- Dating the boy of her dreams, knowing he’s the boy of her parents’ nightmares
- Telling family you’ve got a new job which will take you far away
- Not wanting to follow your parents’ career ambitions for you; pursuing acting instead
- Deciding to adopt religious beliefs different from those taught to you by your parents
- Choosing not to have the lavish white wedding with lots of guests your parents always dreamed for you
Here are three examples of making unpopular decisions, two of them very personal.
First, the teenage girl, aged 14, who chose to go to school wearing the school uniform. But surely she was just conforming? Actually, she wasn’t. The uniform was optional, and not a single other girl in the school wore the uniform. I suspect the girl who wore the uniform loved to stand out from the crowd, but she was mocked for doing so.
Second, Alison and I have four children. After the first two, a boy and then a girl, people said “You have the perfect family. You’ll be done having children now.” We weren’t done. When number three was on the way, some reacted with “Really! This one must have been an accident” or “How could you bring another child into the world?” So, when we decided to have our fourth – and it was a positive decision – we knew what we would face. Most did not congratulate us. There were looks of horror on some faces. “Oh no!” said at least two close relatives. Some suggested that we were irresponsible. Some believed we’d done something morally wrong. Some said they were worried for us. And the midwife at a prenatal clinic assumed we could be having a fourth only because we didn’t understand contraception. Many comments were ridiculous, but some really hurt. Thankfully we were undaunted. We were thrilled about having each of our four children. And then we decided our family was complete. Matters like that are personal and no-one else’s business.
Third, I accepted the appointment of heading up a large mission agency. That would mean relocating from the north east of Scotland to the south of England. I was worried what that would mean for my Dad. Mum had died many years before, and Dad had eventually remarried but his second wife had also passed away. Now, although he had golfing buddies, he lived alone. His home was 100 miles from our north east location, but I visited him almost every week. The move south, however, meant I’d be seven hours travelling time from him. Visits would be far less frequent. It was tough telling him we were moving away, and it was obvious he was sad. But Dad was a hero. Firmly and bravely, he said “I would never want to hold you back from doing what is right for your career.” We went with his blessing. And, to our surprise, Dad in his mid 70s made arrangements to get flights from Edinburgh to London so he could visit us. That amazed us because Dad had never been on a plane before. Not ever. But he booked his flights and boarded planes just so he could see us. Which was great.
When you know a decision is right but you’re fearful about the consequences Accepting a promotion often comes with nervousness.It’s wonderful to move up the career ladder, and who doesn’t want a higher salary? But with that new position comes greater responsibility, and that can be daunting. Questions flood the mind like “What if I don’t have the skills?” or “What if I can’t manage a team” or “What if they fire me after a few weeks?” I used to encourage newly promoted staff by saying “You don’t have this new position because of what I hope you’ll be able to do one day, but because of what I’ve already seen you are able to do.” Sometimes I had more confidence in a promoted staff member’s abilities than they had. But, despite their fear of consequences, they accepted the promotion and ended up flourishing in their new challenge.
When we can’t decide a project or task is complete When I was only a few months into my PhD research, one of the older and well-respected faculty members took me aside. “Alistair,” he said “never be afraid to bring each part of your thesis to an end. Some people never finish their degree because they can’t accept their work is good enough.” That elderly scholar spoke the truth. I resisted the temptation to always add another nugget of wisdom or quote from yet one more source. And my thesis was accepted. But one friend – a brilliant scholar – almost never got his PhD because he couldn’t let any chapter go unless he considered it perfect. After 13 years, far longer than the university’s rules allowed anyone, he was told ‘Submit, or you fail’. Thankfully he handed over his manuscript, and it was accepted. But other students – no matter the pressure – still won’t submit their less-than-perfect work, which means that after years of hard study they never get their degree. There are times when ‘good enough’ is truly ‘good enough’ and we must have the courage to stop.
I now need to stop. But I will finish by including a statement I came across when studying management. In the context of advice on how to reach the right decision came these words: “Of course the worst decision of all is not to make any decision.” A non-decision is, indeed, a terrible decision.
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Several times I’ve written about decision-making. Here are links to some of those posts:
Occasionally wise 