Reading can be a dangerous thing. When I was a young boy I was captivated by the idea of flying a plane. I remember reading Jules Bergman’s book, Anyone Can Fly. The book so fascinated me that I was sure after my many readings that had I set foot inside a Piper Tri-Pacer, I too could fly. In my own mind, absent of any hands-on flight training, I was already a pilot. Among my friends I boasted like I was one too.

So it is with anything we read or hear. It’s easy to think we could master — or even more deceptively, think already have mastered — something just because we read about it. This self-deception is especially pernicious when it comes to God’s word. We can read Matthew 22:39 about loving our neighbor as ourselves, for instance, and quickly pass over that familiar verse because we’ve heard it a million times. Or, we could have listened to a message from the pulpit and thought of all the other people we know who could have benefited from hearing it. In neither case do we ask, “In what ways I could I apply this truth today?” Could it be that when we stop asking that question, it’s because we’ve already deceived ourselves into thinking we don’t need to change. Yes, reading can be a dangerous thing.

Your thoughts? What have you read recently that you intend to act upon?

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I recently had a conversation with a bullet train. Not a real train, mind you, but a person who has the same drive as one—cruising at top-speed toward their destination. Being around high-capacity, high-energy people like that fuels my bullet train engine too, and inspires me to move farther down my own track. The problem for my friend was that his destination recently changed. He’d lost his job.

Being a resourceful bullet train, however, he was already on track toward the next idea, when the thought struck him. “How do I know if this is the best direction for me right now?” That’s a familiar question. I’ve asked it myself on a number of occasions, usually after I’m much farther down the track on the next venture than he was. In fact, a number of years ago I launched a new company and worked in it for two years before I stopped long enough to ask if it was the right business for me. I pursued it because I was bullet train, and bullet trains are designed to move, not to be parked in the train yard. During that painful time I learned that I had placed a higher premium on velocity than direction. Anxious to resume top-speed again, I plunged into the next opportunistic thing regardless of what it cost me to get where I didn’t really care to go. It was a train robbery at high-speed—that impatient start robbed me of my freedom to evaluate the best destination.

Your thoughts? Have you had a similar experience of jumping prematurely into something just to keep moving?

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There are days when I just plain feel stuck. Overwhelmed by all that’s on my to-do list, I simply stare at it in a stupor. Usually, that’s when I realize that my to-do list is more a creation of reaction than action—borne more of urgency and circumstance than an intentional plan. But determination without destination doesn’t get anyone very far. It’s not hard to go warp-speed in circles. So, before you engage your warp engine today, take a few moments to look over that list. How many things on it are moving you toward your destination or merely there keeping you busy?

Your thoughts? What are ways you’ve found to keep your destination the arbiter of your actions?

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Is there any doubt that “instant” is a prized value in our Western society? Fast-food. Speed-dating. Instant messaging. If fast is good, faster is better. Steeped in this adrenaline inspiring culture, I often make commitments the same way—quickly. I’ve discovered that my enthusiasm about a new idea can often lead me to make a commitment that I wouldn’t otherwise make if I had slowed down enough to evaluate it carefully. It seems that all too often I find myself sacrificing the larger commitments—life purpose pursuits—at the altar of drive-by opportunities. Seldom are these immediate opportunities as important, or rewarding. Yet, they come quickly and furiously—and loudly. In the midst of this onslaught, larger pursuits wait quietly for a time when I slow down enough to think and act slowly.

Your thoughts? When was the last time you gave yourself permission to think slowly about your commitments?

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When Anna and I married we discovered pretty quickly that it wasn’t just a person we married—it was an entire family system. My quirkiness, and hers, could be traced to patterns of behavior we acquired growing up. Some peculiarities were pretty easy to spot. Others were more difficult. Even after nearly three decades of life together, the imprint of our families of origin remains ingrained within us. And because there are no perfect families, there is often a lot of faulty thinking buried in those imprints. Quirky behavior is our only clue. The thing is, we can’t often see our own quirky behavior. We need to live out loud in the presence of another to discover it. The ancestor of every action—faulty or healthy—is a thought. How well do you know the ancestors of your actions?

Your thoughts? How have you benefited from others revealing your faulty thinking?

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When I was in college I decided to take up ice skating. During those early days on the ice, I remember my roommate laughing hysterically as he watched me from the sidelines try to regain my balance. “Leary,” he said, “why don’t you just sit down instead of flailing your arms so wildly? You look silly and you might hurt yourself.” Indeed, I’m sure I did. Yet doing nothing often comes hard for me. I’ve long been a proponent of Teddy Roosevelt’s advise in alternate form: “Don’t just sit there, do something.” But, is doing something always preferable to doing nothing? Might there also be occasions where relaxing rather than flailing would be the better choice? In those instances, my friend’s advice in alternate form might be more appropriate: “Don’t just do something, sit there.”

Your thoughts? Do you think action is always preferable to inaction?

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