Category: Leadership

The hardest thing about making a decision is making a decision

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.

———————————-

Several times I’ve written about decision-making. Here are links to some of those posts:

Going out on a limb
Keep on keeping on
This way or that way?
How do we make our biggest decisions?
Why quit while you’re ahead?
Procrastination

Why don’t we change when we know we should?

“Change? We don’t want to change!” I was told. The message couldn’t be clearer. Arguing would have been pointless. But what I thought was ‘If you won’t change, then your group will die’.

For more than a year I’d been hearing complaints from the church women’s group that the younger ladies wouldn’t come to their meetings. In the distant past that women’s group had been relatively large, perhaps 40 or 50 attending each week. Every meeting followed the same pattern. Notices at the beginning, then a speaker, and after that tea and cake. Frankly, what mattered most was the tea and cake time, not for the refreshments but because that’s when they could chat to each other. The main reason many ladies attended was for ‘fellowship’ – being friends, sharing news, giving encouragement, asking for advice, and, so some said, staying up to date with the gossip. But the years had passed, and the oldest members had either died or were no longer able to come out on dark nights. The headcount had declined, down to about 15 on a good week. But the numbers of women in the church had grown, in fact grown a lot. The newcomers were younger, most with ages ranging from early twenties to late forties. Many were studying or working, often with long hours. Some had families. Others belonged to organisations not related to the church, and several went with friends or husbands to neighbourhood home group meetings. The traditional women’s group held little attraction for them.

But their absence didn’t go down well with the leaders of the women’s group. So, as pastor of the church, I decided to meet with them. The leaders didn’t hold back. The younger generation of women were letting them down. They should come to the meetings and swell their numbers. So I was told. Tactfully, I tried to explain that the younger ones lived such busy lives they didn’t feel able to add another meeting into their schedules. “But they should come,” they said. “They are women who belong to this church, so they should support the women’s group.” Summoning up the courage to be more direct, I explained that if, say, 30 of the younger ladies joined the women’s group, they’d outnumber the existing members by two to one, and they’d almost certainly vote for change. Which is when they replied “Change? We don’t want to change!”. And so our meeting ended, and within two years the women’s group had its final speaker, last cups of tea and slices of cake, locked the doors, and never met again.

It was obvious that they needed to change, but they wouldn’t. In their case, they liked what they had and didn’t want anything different from that. It was a fatal attitude.

But not an unusual attitude. Whether we think about personal habits or organisational practices, it’s often the case that clearly things must change and yet they don’t. But why not? That’s what this blog post is about.

First, though, I should clarify that I won’t be trying to explain compulsive behaviour caused by addiction or mental illness. Alcoholics, for example, often know perfectly well that drinking is ruining their health, family life, and job performance. Yet they can’t resist that first drink which then leads to many more drinks. A young man told me a similar story, but in his case about a gambling addiction which had caused him financial ruin. Drug addicts may also be well aware that their ‘habit’ is killing them but they’re unable to refuse the next ‘hit’. The complexities of addiction and mental illness lie beyond the scope of this blog post. Here I’m writing about the more common experience described some 2000 years ago by the Apostle Paul: “I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do – this I keep on doing” (Romans 7:19).

What follows are seven reasons why we don’t change when we know we should, including when we wish we could. Most of these refer to personal change, but the first is about organisations.

Organisations have remarkably sticky cultures.  Management books describe how the appointment of a new CEO rarely brings about significant change in the way a company goes about its business. The CEO might put forward a new policy, but staff will react with “That’s not the way we do things around here”. They may never say those words publicly, but it’s how the employees feel, and therefore how they react to proposed change. Businesses have a culture – beliefs and customs – which reinforce the status quo. For the staff, the way things get done is the only way to get things done. Hence change is resisted.

In 1990 Peter Senge wrote a masterful book called ‘The Fifth Discipline’, with the subtitle ‘The Art & Practice of The Learning Organization’. His conviction is that businesses are rarely learning organisations, and since they don’t learn they don’t change. Senge writes: “What if even the most successful companies are poor learners – they survive but never live up to their potential?” He continues:

“It is no accident that most organizations learn poorly. The way they are designed and managed, the way people’s jobs are defined, and, most importantly, the way we have all been taught to think and interact (not only in organizations but more broadly) create fundamental learning disabilities. These disabilities operate despite the best efforts of bright, committed people”.[1]

Note Senge’s words about “the way we have all been taught to think and interact”. Our ideas have been conditioned and our brains trained to operate in certain ways, and it’s devilishly hard to change those patterns. Hence organisations keep doing what they’ve always done. Those ‘stuck in a rut’ ways of thinking and acting are huge barriers to change, even when such change would obviously be good.

Unwillingness to admit we’ve been doing things the wrong way.  Adopting a new way of thinking or working seems like an admission that what we had or did before was second-rate. Pills used to come in screw top containers; now those containers have child-proof tops. I typed a thesis of some 100,000 words on a typewriter, throwing away every page which needed more than the simplest correction. Now even the simplest laptop has software that makes writing easy, with nothing printed out until near perfect. My parallel parking in a tight space often used to involve getting out of the car to see exactly how much further back I could go. Now my car has a reversing camera, so judging how much space I’ve got left is easy. With each of these examples, what was mentioned first was clearly inferior to what I described second. Adopting the new was admitting the old wasn’t great.

Rather than accept that, some cling to what is old and familiar. I knew a finance director who so disliked computer spreadsheets that he longed for the large bound ledgers he’d used when an apprentice accountant. I’ve met car mechanics who agree that the technology of modern cars aids reliability, but they still long for the simple engines and fittings of a past era, because they loved taking them to bits and using their skills to make repairs.

Accepting that the old ways or old things were not very good, and occasionally really bad, is not easy for many. Hence they resist change.

Change requires time, effort and sometimes money.  Let’s never ignore a fundamental reason people dislike change – they need to learn the new thing. Not everyone enjoys learning new skills. Our moderately large organisation needed to adopt the most popular word processing software. Most of the staff were delighted, because it meant our word processors would easily and accurately incorporate the electronic documents sent by people outside our organisation. But there was a resistance movement. Some had mastered keyboard shortcuts in the old software, and they knew how to reveal hidden codes which helped with editing. Worse, they loved the DOS software[2] because of its clean screen and none of the myriad options via drop-down lists.  But, fundamentally, most who resisted simply didn’t want the effort of learning a new system. To surrender to laziness would have been short-sighted and foolish. The change was made. It required persuasion, time, effort and money, but all the staff eventually appreciated the new software.

Suggesting change is needed can offend.  Telling a spouse or partner that they drive badly is maritally dangerous! It certainly risks a furious row. There’s much the same risk when criticising a different kind of driving – that of a fellow golfer who keeps slicing the ball off the tee. I had the uncomfortable experience of playing alongside a couple when the husband constantly criticised his wife’s standard of play. He got angrier and angrier at her poor shots; she just went quiet. What she might have said – but wisely didn’t – is that he wasn’t much of a golfer either. I know of an organisation which provided parenting coaches to advise parents on how to bring up their children. The coaches were typically uninvited by the parents after two visits. No-one wanted to be told their child raising skills were lacking. Management gurus have the same problem when hired to help a struggling business. The company CEO may have brought in the consultant to fix his employees, and does not appreciate being told that what needs to improve is his leadership skills.

Without great sensitivity, advising people that they need to change can create a defensive, negative reaction. That just makes a bad situation worse.

Taking someone out of their comfort group.  At almost all golf clubs, groups of friends regularly play together. After the match, they’ll sit around enjoying a beer or a coffee. Their socialising after the game can last as long as their game because they enjoy each other’s company. Each of them feels they belong there. But what if one of them must leave the group? Perhaps he can’t afford all the drinks, or needs to give those hours to another activity. Surely he can just leave? Actually, he may feel he can’t. Over the years the group has transitioned from being casual friends to a place where everyone feels they belong, where they feel safe. They draw strength from each other as they share opinions, hopes, problems, challenging issues and get encouragement. The person who feels he should leave wonders how he can manage without the group.

What makes a close-knit group strong is what makes it hard to leave, or to disagree with the majority. That can be true in a workplace, where one person would struggle to differ on important issues like attitude to the boss, whether pay levels are fair, and how hard everyone should work. Group belonging is also strong in churches, where people share faith, pray together, get encouragement, and come away feeling more able to face hardships. It happens between people who have lived near to each other for a long time. My parents were close friends with all their neighbours. They talked at front doors, visited in each other’s homes, and got together on significant occasions such as midnight on Hogmanay (a Scottish custom at the start of a new year). In any of these cases, leaving or disagreeing with the group is difficult. My parents eventually moved to another part of town, but it robbed them of important friends. It would be the same for someone giving up on a golf fraternity. In the workplace, rejecting a group’s view can lead to being ostracised from the company of colleagues.

Even when people feel they should change, they may opt not to change if it means leaving a group which is important for them.

Fear of an unknown future.  Change creates something unfamiliar. In the late 1990s Alison and I moved hundreds of miles from Aberdeenshire in Scotland to Oxfordshire in England. Many things were different. Busier roads near London meant I learned to ask how long will my journey take, not how far is my journey. Affluent Oxfordshire had alternative values from those I’d grown up with in Scotland. All our friends and family were in the north, far distant from where we had moved to. Now I was heading up a large mission organisation, very different work from being a church pastor. And, instead of a normal routine of local journeys, now I travelled all over Britain and to literally dozens of other countries. People in Oxfordshire thought I spoke strangely, remarking “You have an accent”. I learned to reply, “So you think you don’t?”

The very word ‘change’ means things won’t be the same. Change takes us into a future we’ve never experienced, perhaps one we could never have imagined. And, for many, that prospect is daunting, so daunting they refuse to change and they stay with what they already have and know. Twelve years later, when we told family and friends we were leaving Oxfordshire to live and work across the Atlantic, several said “I couldn’t do that…”. They said they couldn’t. Actually they could, but what they meant was they wouldn’t do that. They’d choose the familiar over the uncertain.

Whatever the pluses or minuses of what we have already, the big positive is that it is known. We can cope with it. The future may not be like that. What if our hopes and dreams turn to dust? What if we quickly regret the change? We may never be able to go back to what we left. That can feel too big a risk to take. Therefore people resist change.

No decision is a decision.  This is my last note about change. Imagine a CEO has to decide whether to market his business in a completely different way. Or, more radically, the CEO has to decide whether the company should abandon its old merchandise for shiny new products. The old stuff is still selling but not as well as it once did. And new lines might bring new customers. He wishes he could sell both the old and new, but he can’t. To have the new he must let go of the old, and he’s not sure he can do that. In a dream which is close to a nightmare, he’s getting into a beautiful boat and sailing away from a safe pier, only to find the boat sinks. When he wakes, he fears that’s what might happen if he moves to a new product line. He’ll take his company from its safe place, only for it soon to sink. The CEO is paralysed with uncertainty, so in the end makes no decision at all.

But, of course, he has made a decision. Not to change is a decision, and, for that CEO, sticking with an old product line would be a bad one because market trends were moving on. Sometimes change is absolutely necessary. That’s how it feels for those threatened by war who abandon their homes and become refugees. Or, in a more ordinary situation, the change might be to another employer, one who treats staff more kindly. For the refugee, failure to change could result in death. For the employee, staying with a bad employer would mean years of overwork and exploitation. Some situations, of course, are not clear cut, but I’d argue that, in most circumstances, change must be an option. Yes, it has to be well thought through – all possibilities considered – then followed by a thoroughly positive decision. Not changing may be the right thing; it simply shouldn’t be for the wrong reasons.

I’ve listed seven reasons why change doesn’t happen even when we know it should. But none of those reasons are invincible barriers to change. We are not prisoners of the status quo. Down the years I’ve experienced change many times, and almost always change has been positive for me. It has not always been easy, and most times uncomfortable at first. But change has gifted me with new challenges and new experiences, the large majority of which have been positive and meaningful. Be brave!

[1] Page 18 in the 1990 edition. Peter Senge is a senior lecturer at the Sloan School of Management at MIT (the world-renowned Massachusetts Institute of Technology, located in Cambridge, just outside Boston). The Fifth Discipline is still published, now in a 2006 edition by Random House Business. The book has sold in the millions world-wide.

[2] DOS stands for Disk Operating System. Many web sites explain how DOS works, including this one: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Disk_operating_system

This way or that way?

I saw the sign in my photo on a nearby golf course. One arrow pointed left to the 13th teeing ground. The other arrow pointed right to the 13th teeing ground. “Which is it?” I asked myself. Both directions couldn’t be correct. Or could they?  Intrigued, I took the photo. (An explanation of the sign is in a footnote.[1])

It’s not unusual to be uncertain which choice to make, which way to go, which option to prioritise. Sometimes the decision is trivial. Do we watch this film or that film? Do I have a latte or cappuccino? Do I go shopping today or tomorrow? Sometimes the alternatives are much more serious. Who do I share my life with? Do I study law or accountancy? Should we move abroad or stay here? With life changing decisions, the stakes are super high. It’s difficult and often stressful when we could go one way or another, and it’s not obvious which way is right. So much rides on the choice we make.

No-one has a perfect method for making the uncertain certain. But here are three guiding principles.

Rationality can’t always tell us what’s right

We should be careful about making choices based on hunches or emotions. One couple were convinced a house they couldn’t really afford was perfect for them, so they bought it, but within months had to sell it because they couldn’t make the payments. That was foolish.

However, not  every decision can be resolved by calculation. We can’t always weigh the merits and demerits of one option over another. Jeff decided he needed a wife, so he wrote out a wife-specification: age, looks, family background, education, career expectations, role-of-wife assumptions. He found Julia, an attractive young lady who ticked every box on his list, dated her, and they got engaged. And then they broke up. Jeff and Julia were well matched, except for one essential: they weren’t in love. Emotion had been left out of the calculation.

As Jeff and Julia’s story shows, the rightness of every important decision can’t be defined by rational analysis. Top executives have been quizzed about their strategic decision making. Often they had folders or files full of data, but when the crunch came their final choice was based on a hunch. Some wouldn’t call it a hunch. They preferred ‘instinct’, or ‘intuition’, or claimed ‘inspired guesses’. However they described it, their final decisions were not data driven.

Faced with a ‘this’ or ‘that’ decision, rationality may not give us a clear answer. But, deep down, we may know what’s right. That inner voice shouldn’t be ignored.


Alternatives are not always the problem we think they are
When I’m making a long journey, I use digital mapping to plan my route. Usually I’m  offered more than one way to the destination. One option may take me via a motorway, and the other a more direct route but on minor roads. I can’t go both ways. Which is right? I could spend ages making a decision. But I don’t. Because often there’s no more than five minutes difference or a couple of miles in distance between the two. The simple fact is that I could go either way. The choice doesn’t really matter.

The same can be true with matters more serious than route selection.

When I’ve interviewed candidates for jobs, the final stage has often been a choice between two people, either of whom could do the job well. The significant point then is what I’ve just stated: ‘either could do the job well’. I can only employ one, so I must choose. But that choice is between good and good; neither is bad. Whoever I pick, I’ll be getting a great employee.

The same applies when I’ve got several things to do. Which should come first? Several clammer for my attention, but all that matters at that moment is that I start on one. Which one isn’t really important since all of them have to be done.

I’ve seen people in a restaurant almost unable to decide on their main course, asking their server to give them another two minutes, and even after that needing ‘a little longer’. What’s their problem? They can’t choose between the beef or the lamb. Do they dislike one? No, the problem is that they love both. They’ll enjoy either. Unable to decide, I’ve been asked to choose for them. So I do, and they’re delighted – as they would have been if I’d chosen the other dish.

So there are two truths there:

  1. We too easily think every choice is between good/bad or right/wrong. But alternatives can both be good. Either option will be fine.
  2. Because we’re frightened of making a bad choice, fear paralyses us. We’re stuck between option A or option B, terrified of getting it wrong. That paralysis leads to option C which is no decision at all. And that’s usually the worst option of all.

Sometimes there’s no big difference which choice we make.


Consider how urgent any decision is

There are decisions which must be made right now. You can’t tell applicants for a job you need another month to make up your mind. Or, if you know you want to buy a house, you’d better not put off making an offer.

But other decisions are not like that. I felt the time had come to buy another car. I read up on several models, took test drives, studied finance deals, talked to salespeople. Rather than narrowing down my options, that process so enlarged my thinking I was confused. Several models seemed equally good, and I’d likely be happy with any of them. But, with a significant sum of money involved, I struggled to make a decision. Then I realised I didn’t need to buy any of them. Not at that time. The car I had already was old with high mileage, but it was running okay, still doing what it had always done. Since I had a functional car, I could wait. (Which is what I did, and two years later, with clearer thinking, I bought a car that delighted me and gave good service for many years.)

Here’s the lesson. We shouldn’t put off a decision that needs to be made now. But not every decision has to be made now. Not everything is urgent. And when we don’t know which option is right, it’s legitimate to wait. That isn’t procrastination; it’s simply saying ‘not now’. With time, the fog of uncertainty may have cleared, or you may have found an option you’d never considered before. Now you can make a wise choice, and that’s the time to act.

So, in conclusion, we may wish every decision to be clear cut. No confusion. Make the choice and move forward. But the hard reality is that some choices are not plain and obvious. We could go this way or that way. It’s not easy, but I’ve given some clues for how to move forward. Decisions may involve instincts rather than analysis. The differences between options may not matter too much. And perhaps that urgent decision isn’t actually urgent at all.

[1] The left arrow pointed to the white and yellow teeing areas of the 13th hole. The right arrow pointed to the red teeing area, also of the 13th hole.

Unhelpful people

Near the start of a book I found a curious entry among the ‘Acknowledgements’. Having named those to whom the author was grateful, he then writes: ‘On this particular volume I received no help from Josiah S. Carberry. For that too I am grateful.’

It’s a joke. Josiah S. Carberry is, in fact, a fictional character[1], the name standing for someone we might describe as a crackpot. The author I was reading, Joel Feinberg[2], is humorously saying that none of those who helped him were crazy.

However, I suspect many authors could identify people whose help would be thoroughly unhelpful. And most of us could list folk like that too.

I’ve been grateful for supportive, gifted, positive friends and colleagues, and I’ve valued their backing and input. But a few have been ‘Josiah S. Carberry’ types. Some have discouraged, some misguided, some wasted my time. They were unhelpful people.

By ‘unhelpful’ I don’t only mean ‘annoying’. We all encounter folk who annoy us:

Those who are repeatedly late. I recall someone calling such people ‘thieves’ because they stole everyone else’s time waiting for them.

Those who won’t switch off their phones during meetings (or on the golf course!). One speaker, at a very large conference, not only failed to switch off his phone, he took a call midway through his talk. That’s so bad.

Those who constantly try to impress with their successes. Their achievements usually aren’t special. Most of us have the good sense not to brag about ours.

Those who boast constantly about their children’s successes. That might be their youngsters’ progress at reading, or their older ones’ exam achievements, or their grown up kids’ careers.

Those who take 500 words to say what deserved only 50. Long-windedness is not a quality.

Taking a hint from that last sentence, I won’t list more ‘annoyances’. My point is that annoying people do no more than annoy; usually they don’t stop us doing what we need to do. But unhelpful people are a real hindrance.

I’ll describe some unhelpful people who’ve crossed my path, partly from my time as a pastor but also from when I was leading major organisations.

Those who are excessive time-consumers  Ann made an appointment to speak with me. “What’s on your mind?” I asked. “Well,” she said, “sometimes I’m just not very happy”. My inner reaction was that I wasn’t always happy either. But there might be something much deeper troubling Ann, so we talked. And another time we talked. And another time we talked. At no point did Ann describe anything as seriously wrong, other than that she wasn’t always happy. We talked about expectations, and I left things there.

Ann may have wanted to talk more. Perhaps she was lonely, and enjoyed conversation. But I couldn’t be her talk-buddy long-term. To give Ann more time would have been at the expense of other people and other tasks which were in greater need of that time. That would not be right.

Some people demand attention which takes more than our time. Gordon MacDonald describes Very Draining People – he calls them VDPs – who sap the passion of leaders. Their demands keep increasing, they take but don’t give, and leaders who indulge them pay a massive bill in inner exhaustion.[3]

People who consume an inordinate amount of our time are unhelpful.

Those in love with their own opinion  Martin accosted me. He wanted me to know that people were saying that in our church services we should return to singing traditional hymns, and have far fewer modern worship songs. I had learned to be suspicious when someone used the phrase ‘people are saying’, so I asked Martin “How many are saying that?” He answered: “Everyone I’ve spoken to”. Exactly, those he’d hand-picked to be on the receiving end of his opinion. In fact, I’d heard already that Martin was cornering certain church members, pushing his passion for traditional hymns on them, and when they nodded, he considered they agreed with him and added them to his list of ‘people are saying’. But some of them had told me what was happening, and that they didn’t agree with Martin. However, he was a forceful personality, a man who believed strongly in the rightness of his own ideas, so partly out of politeness and partly out of fear they had just nodded in order to get him to stop.

I saw the same happen with departmental heads who pushed for more funding or more prominence for their area of work, sometimes going direct to trustees to win their support. I saw it too with people who thought they knew exactly what was needed for our organisation to grow, then sowed their opinions among other staff members, but they had neither complete understanding of the facts nor the ability to bring growth about.

People in love with their own opinions are often unhelpful. 

Those who are perpetually negative  Faced with problems I’ve been reassured when someone says, “Don’t worry; every cloud has a silver lining”. I like that positivity, looking for how something bad might also turn into something good.

But Charlie never reassured me. He was near 100 per cent consistent in seeing only insurmountable problems. His gift for gloom and doom depressed everyone around him. One colleague summed up Charlie this way: “Charlie is convinced every silver lining has a cloud – and it’s a black cloud”.

The negative Charlies of this world don’t see themselves as difficult. They believe they’re helping by pointing out the hard challenges to which we have no answer. But that’s not helpful. It tempts people to give up without trying. The truth is that virtually every project has tough challenges, but often those challenges are resolved by moving forward carefully and constructively. When running a marathon, you feel pain – cramps, blisters, weariness – and finishing the race seems impossible, but careful self-management before or after that point can still get you over the finishing line. Problems are usually not reasons to give up.

Negative Charlies are unhelpful people.

Those who oppose  The Old Testament book of Nehemiah records the rebuilding of the wall of Jerusalem. Decades before, the Israelites had been transported from their own land and made slaves. While they were gone, Jerusalem fell into disrepair and was occupied by other peoples. But then Nehemiah, cup bearer to his overlord, King Artaxerxes, got permission to return with others to rebuild Jerusalem’s walls. He succeeded, and Nehemiah 12 describes a lavish dedication ceremony for the new walls.

However, what happened between permission to rebuild and celebrating the completed walls is far from a story of straightforward success. In places it reads like a thriller novel.

Right from the start the project was opposed by other tribes and peoples. As soon as Nehemiah returned to Jerusalem and surveyed the damage, Horonite and Ammonite officials spread stories that Nehemiah was rebelling against the king (chapter 2). Once work on the walls began, Samaritans – backed by a large army – ridiculed what he was doing. But Nehemiah and his fellow Jews kept building. So his opponents, who’d enlisted even more support, plotted to kill the wall builders. Nehemiah posted guards and later assigned half the men to work on the walls while the other half held weapons ready to defend them. Eventually the order became: ‘Work with one hand and hold your sword ready in the other’ (chapter 4).

Nehemiah’s enemies got more subtle. They invited him to a meeting. That sounded reasonable, even friendly, but what they intended was neither reasonable nor friendly. They wanted Nehemiah alone to murder him. He sent a reply that he was doing a great work, and had no time to meet with them. Frustrated, his foes spread more stories: ‘Nehemiah is leading a revolt, and he’s planning to install a king in Jerusalem’. It was a rumour of insurrection, which could get Nehemiah killed. But the work went on. His enemies decided enough was enough. They appointed assassins who would creep into the Jewish camp in the dead of night and dispose of Nehemiah for good. Nehemiah learned of the plot, but despite the intimidation and danger he would not be stopped, and the new wall was completed in a little over seven weeks (chapter 6).

Nehemiah’s opponents were clearly the worst of unhelpful people. Few of us work with constant life-ending threats from people who want us to fail.

But we do face challenges in ways like these:

Head on  We can experience direct opposition from senior colleagues. They may be honest – they disagree on some matter. But it’s awkward, unsettling and, even when we have the authority to press ahead anyway, their opposition leaves us distressed.

Non-cooperation  Management gurus describe the covert way staff can halt new initiatives – they simply don’t implement them. They like the culture they have, the ways of working with which they’re familiar, the colleagues they work beside, so they don’t make the changes they should.

Campaigns  Opponents seek support from others for their point of view. They enlist sympathisers, who in turn enrol more. It all builds until there are sufficient numbers to obstruct a policy change.

Leaders must listen when people hold alternative views. But often it’s right to press forward despite opposition. That’s part of the job.

Those you can never please  There’s a common saying: ‘You can’t please all the people all of the time’. I don’t agree. Here’s my saying: ‘You can’t please all the people any of the time’.

The culture in my Christian tradition is to find unanimity. “We can’t move forward until we all agree,” someone says. Now, if we’re talking about a group of less than six people, we might get total agreement, especially if the matter is a small one. But complete unity of heart and mind is rare with greater numbers and bigger issues.

In fact, a call for unanimity can be a stalling tactic. When change can’t happen until everyone agrees on every detail, at the least it’ll be a long way off or, very possibly, it will never happen. That’s an intolerable situation. It’s a case of the perfect being the enemy of the best.

Those who demand agreement from all are mostly unhelpful people.

Finally, three more – briefly!

Those who are all talk and no action  I’ve had colleagues and friends who argued powerfully for policies or positions, but did very little after getting those positions. Terry was keen to head up maintenance work, and great at listing repair and development tasks. But he didn’t do any of them, nor delegate the jobs to others. People complained about facilities not working. I encouraged Terry, and was assured matters were getting his attention. But they weren’t, and more and more people grumbled to me about uneven paths, broken equipment, peeling plaster, and much more. I went again to Terry, and was very straightforward that he wasn’t doing the job. “I guess I should resign then?” he asked. I didn’t talk him out of it. Soon after, we appointed Gary who boasted no special skills, but made sure every task brought to his attention was completed promptly. No more complaints.

Unhelpful people talk a good game, but have little to show for it.

Those who don’t keep their promises  Some failed promises are relatively minor: the student who didn’t read a set book before class; the fellow actor who didn’t learn their lines; the Board member who, before the meeting, didn’t even glance at the papers staff had slaved to prepare. Such things matter, but they’re not at the level of other forms of promise-breaking:

  • After a lengthy and expensive hiring process, Josh is offered the job and immediately accepts. One week later – after other candidates have all been told they are not being appointed – Josh sends a one sentence email saying he’s changed his mind and won’t be taking up the post.
  • After two years of marriage, Katy tells Bert she no longer loves him and she’s leaving. He pleads; others counsel; but Katy just keeps saying she doesn’t want this marriage any more.
  • Cedric has elevated himself above all his colleagues, and is rewarded with responsibility for the firm’s biggest client. There’s talk of massive amounts of new business. Cedric assures his CEO he’s working day and night on a business plan that will delight the client. The deadline agreed with the client is 20 days away. No plan yet from Cedric, but he guarantees his boss it’ll be ready in time. When it’s down to the last ten days and then five days Cedric promises he’s making the final edits. Deadline day arrives, but Cedric’s plan doesn’t. He’s been doing everything but the plan. The client is furious and withdraws all business from the firm.

I can understand that some people aren’t successful at a task they promised to do. But they tried. What I can’t understand is how people make promises – often solemn promises – and simply walk away from them. ‘Unhelpful’ is far too weak a word for them.

Those who criticise behind your back  It’s those last three words ‘behind your back’ that trouble me most. I have never minded when people raise concerns with me. We can talk, understand each other better, and often resolve issues. But if people have criticisms, and take their complaints straight to others, then two things are wrong: a) I’ve had no chance to resolve anything; b) those to whom they speak are being given only one side of a story. I wish the complainers would be asked by those they talk to: ‘Have you spoken with Alistair about this?’ and, when the answer is ‘no’, they then refused to hear any more until the grievances had been brought to me.

I do understand that people find it difficult to speak to someone in line management over them. Yet, it’s far from fair to go straight to others, without giving the subject of their complaints the chance to resolve a problem. Secret complainers are unhelpful.

Finally, then, how do you deal with unhelpful people?  I can’t give specific answers because each case is unique. However, I learned that the only way to deal with unhelpful people is by actually dealing with them.

What I mean is this. When we don’t face up to the unhelpful:

  • we let the negative person go on being negative
  • we try to sidestep the opponent
  • we tolerate the person who promises much but never delivers
  • we just wait for the critic to get fed up and shut up

But the problem with all these inaction strategies is that, almost always, the unhelpful person keeps on being unhelpful.

So, my policy has been to speak kindly but directly to those causing difficulty. That doesn’t guarantee success. Those who oppose your ideas won’t instantly change their minds. But they might tone down their efforts. And, with others, I’ve seen a realisation that they’re being difficult, and they appreciate the insight they’ve been given.

Take courage. Be gentle but speak honestly. Almost always the end result will be better than leaving unhelpful behaviour unchallenged.

[1] See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Josiah_S._Carberry to fully understand the humour around this name.

[2] From Joel Feinberg, (1989) Harm to self, Oxford Press (p. xix).

[3] G. MacDonald, Renewing Your Spiritual Passion (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 1986), pp. 69-88.

The Coronation of King Charles III

On May 6th, 2023, Charles III was crowned king. He was already king, of course, because that title passed to him immediately upon the death of his mother, Elizabeth II, on September 8th, 2022, at 3.10 pm. Charles’ coronation today recognised his kingship, and included pledges by king and people of loyalty and service to each other.

I’m not an ardent royalist like some are, but also far from being anti-monarchy. There are parts of a nation’s history that should not easily be discarded, and hard-working and wise ‘royals’ can do much for the United Kingdom, its commonwealth countries and other ‘realms’.

So I settled down to watch the coronation service and its associated events. I knew I was in for a marathon – and it was that – but I could relax which is more than what was possible for the thousands of military and police on parade and guard duty, and those who had an active part inside Westminster Abbey. They’ll all sleep soundly tonight.

I will share a few personal thoughts on the day’s events. But – since this is written on the same day – they should be seen as immediate reactions rather than deeply considered reflections.

Here’s what stood out for me.

Superb organisation  It’s hard to grasp how anyone can bring together the complex content and timing that makes a coronation day work. And all today’s events were marvellously efficient. What undoubtedly helped is the little-known fact that ever since Elizabeth II became queen officials of the government, Church of England, and royal staff held meetings at least annually to plan Charles’ coronation. Now that’s being prepared.

But I’m not surprised. Decades ago – as a young journalist in Edinburgh – I saw advance press releases outlining visits by royalty. The itinerary was timed to the minute. Indeed, my newspaper had an early edition sold on the streets as soon as one royal event was over. The story detailed where the Queen had been, who she’d met, what she’d seen. How did they have it written so soon? They didn’t. It was written before the event, entirely from the detailed schedule issued in advance. Royal events – great and small – are planned to the smallest detail.

But today’s coronation was one of the greatest of events, and I applaud those who brought together people from all round the world, thousands of military personnel, many clergy and politicians, London’s city officials, broadcasters, and many more. Quite a feat.

Remarkable endurance  I was impressed that several people involved in the service could retain their posture for long periods of time. In many cases, they stayed still while holding ceremonial items. Charles himself had to stay balanced with a crown resting precariously on his head while sitting on an uncomfortable ancient Coronation Chair, holding an orb in one hand and a sceptre in the other. Queen Camilla was put through similar torture. Both did well. And so did others who kept their concentration, passed the correct items of regalia exactly at the right time, moved to new locations when needed, and so on.

Outside, on the routes between Buckingham Palace and Westminster Abbey, there was constant discipline from police who faced out to the crowd and military who faced in towards the procession. They stood there for hours from long before dignitaries went past.

To add to the discomfort outdoors it rained much of the time. That’s oddly normal for coronation days. It also rained on the previous four occasions, including the coronation of Elizabeth II in June 1953. Yet everything about Charles’ coronation seemed unaffected, except low cloud meant the fly past was scaled back to only helicopters and the Red Arrows performance team. (The plan had been for 14 waves of aircraft, ranging from World War II fighters and bombers to super-modern jets. Some were already flying holding patterns off the east coast when the Ministry of Defence cancelled their participation. Aircraft crashing over London is a risk that could not be taken.)

A very religious service  Coronation services have their origin in ancient times. And coronations at Westminster date back to William the Conqueror on 25th December 1066. For many centuries there was a strong belief in the divine right of kings, the view that kings were appointed by God and could rule absolutely. Though no-one now believes in divine right, the idea that a monarch should be blessed, strengthened and guided by God prevails.

Hence it’s not surprising that today’s coronation was a profoundly religious event, led by the senior clergy of the Church of England. For a long time Charles has recognised that British people are not only Christian; many adhere to other faiths. Thus representatives of other religions had roles too. However, the monarch is formally the supreme governor of the Church of England, so there’s no surprise that denomination’s forms of prayer and worship predominated.

Charles has also said that he intends to defend all faiths – in the sense that no faith should suffer discrimination – and I applaud that. For many of the tough situations he will face, I hope the prayers for Charles will be answered. He will need the wisdom only God can give to navigate the right way.

A considerate event  Two things particularly made me realise those responsible for the coronation had tried to be thoughtful and kind.

First, I was following the official coronation order of service, and right at the end I could read the wording of a greeting other faith leaders would give the king just before he exited the abbey. The TV cameras covered that moment but we didn’t hear a word they said. That seemed a shame to me. Until, later, a commentator explained the silence. The Chief Rabbi observes strict Jewish practices about the sabbath (which is a Saturday). That meant he could not travel by car or train to the service. That could be overcome by staying near the abbey overnight. But sabbath rules would also prohibit him speaking into a microphone. So, to allow the Rabbi to participate alongside other faith leaders, there was no microphone to pick up their voices. That is a remarkable consideration.

Second, thousands of military personnel marched well in advance of the ornate coaches that carried King Charles and Queen Camilla. That meant they never saw the monarch and his wife while on parade. That was tough. The day had begun at 3.30 am for many of them, as they had to travel into London and be in position early on. Then they stood and marched in the rain. Of course that was their duty, pleasant or not, and I’m sure they considered it a privilege to have a part in the day. But never to see their new king and queen? Someone thought that didn’t need to happen, so when they finished their march up The Mall they continued on past the frontage of Buckingham Palace and gathered on the vast lawn behind (where Garden Party events are held[1]). The troops lined up in long rows on the grass, and when the royal couple appeared on the terrace overlooking the grounds, the military removed their headwear and gave the heartiest of ‘hip, hip, hooray’ cheers. That’s something they’ll tell their children and grandchildren. I found it quite moving.

At the age of 74 King Charles today became the oldest person to be crowned monarch in Britain. He was just three years old when his mother became queen, making him the heir for over 70 years. That’s a long time to wait. He’s used a lot of that to campaign on important issues, especially about the environment. As monarch he can no longer speak on any subject considered political, but the king has other opportunities to do good. I believe he’ll make a positive difference, and do that with passion and wisdom.

Lastly, a note, especially for those who think it rains all the time in Britain. It really doesn’t. I enlightened many of my American friends on that subject, but even British commentators seemed to suggest today’s rain in London was typical late spring weather. So why have the coronation in May? But here are two facts:

  1. London’s largest airport, Heathrow, has recorded an average of 45.91mm (1.8 inches) of rain in May between 1991 and 2020. Only four other months are drier.
  2. Heathrow, London, has an average annual rainfall of 614.98 mm (24.2 inches) while Central Park, New York City, has 1267.5 mm (49.9 inches) – more than double London’s total. Even Paris has more rain annually than London – 641 mm (25.2 inches).

So, today wasn’t really a bad choice for Coronation Day. And King Charles – perhaps thinking of the long reign of his mother – described the rain as a ‘blessing’. May there be showers of blessing on his time as king.

[1] Many years ago my wife Alison was invited to attend the Queen’s Garden Party, and I was her ‘plus one’. I know my place.