“I just don’t have time.”
“You don’t?” Uncle Todd looked up, but Abner quickly glanced away. The silence hung thick around them. Abner broke a splinter off the side of the firewood block he sat on and began breaking it into smaller fragments on the porch floor.
Finally, Abner sighed, “Look, I know what you’re thinking Uncle. ‘Abner, you just need to prioritize better. You need to set aside the time. If it’s important to you, you’ll make it happen,’ right?” He looked up, his face a mixture of defiance and defeat.
Uncle Todd, sitting stocking footed and working a bit of Neatsfoot oil into his old shoes, now winced, his eyes pained, his mouth pursed. “I don’t know. Is that it?”
“Isn’t that what everybody says?”
Uncle Todd turned the shoe over and sat looking at it, but said nothing.
“Well, is that the answer?” Abner probed.
“It might be . . . part of it,” Uncle Todd said slowly. “I don’t think it’s the whole answer though. So how long has it been since you’ve set aside a time to read your Bible and pray every day?”
Abner splintered the wood fragment into bits, staring down at the fragmented pieces accumulating between his toes. Finally, he shrugged, “I don’t know, awhile, I guess.”
“How long? Do you have an estimation?” Uncle Todd asked, his voice gentle.
Abner sighed, “I know I really got off track when Mary was in the hospital, but it was kind of hit and miss before that.”
“How long ago was Mary in the hospital?”
Abner sighed, “Over a year ago.”
“And since then?”
Abner shrugged, “Maybe once a week. Maybe.” He didn’t look up.
Uncle Todd nodded but didn’t say anything.
Abner looked up, “Now do I get the lecture?”
“What lecture?”
“The ‘you just need to prioritize better’ lecture.”
“Would that help?” Uncle Todd scrunched his eyebrows. “Sounds to me like you’ve given that lecture to yourself so often you’ve gotten it memorized.”
Abner looked startled then chuckled, “You pretty much nailed me there.”
“Is it working?”
“What do you think? I wouldn’t be here all beat down and failing if it was.”
“Correct. So . . . maybe we shouldn’t do that anymore?”
“What should I do instead?”
Uncle Todd picked up the other shoe and the oil. “Maybe . . . maybe something that works?”
“Such as?”
“The problem is you are depending on willpower to do something you think you should do.”
“Ok . . . ?”
Uncle Todd anointed the shoe with oil, then picked up the cloth to rub it in. “Willpower doesn’t work,” he said, looking up suddenly. “It’s a fool’s errand.”
Abner stopped crumbling the fresh bit of bark he’d just flaked off the block and sat staring at Uncle Todd. “Why?”
Uncle Todd shook his head, “Willpower comes and goes. Yesterday it was strong. Today it feels non-existent. It appears to get used up somehow. Have you ever had a bad day where everything went wrong and you spent all day just holding things together, and then, when you got home you ended up being snappish and irritable?”
Abner winced, “Uh . . . yeah.”
“So that’s how it works. It seems like we use up our willpower and then, when we need it later it’s just not there. If we’re hungry, tired, sick or stressed, our natural willpower runs low, leaving us vulnerable to procrastination and fatigue induced failure.”
“But what about the grace of God?”
“The grace of God is real and powerful, but it’s not there to make up for poor lifestyle choices.”
“Ok,” Abner nodded.
“So, if you’ve pushed something off till that time of depletion, your devotions, for example, well forget it. It will not get done, at least not consistently.”
“Oh . . . yeah,” Abner said. “So, mornings are best? What if I’m not a morning person?”
“Actually, that is an argument for scheduling something at our time of max willpower, but that’s not where I’m going here.”
“No? why not?”
“Because you shouldn’t be relying on willpower. You should be relying on a system.”
“A system?”
“How often do you miss getting up and getting in the crew truck when it pulls in the lane?”
“Uh . . . never,” Abner said. “I think I overslept once two years ago when I was up with the sick baby all night, but, yeah, practically never.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” Abner said, eyebrow raised, “because I’d miss work. Because they’d sit out there and blow the horn. Because I wouldn’t get paid for that day. Because it would leave a hole at work. Because they’d all give me a terrible time about it the next day.”
Uncle Todd chuckled, “Perfect. Sounds like a great system. Now you just need one like that to get you to have your devotions and we’re good to go.”
Abner looked up, his eyes narrowed in thought, his lips slightly parted, “What? Ok . . . run that by me again.”
Uncle Todd grinned, “I have to say you have a great system in place to get you in that truck in the morning. How much of it relies on willpower?”
“Extremely little,” Abner said, “because if they blow the horn, they’ll wake the neighbors up and if they beat on the door, they’ll wake the baby.”
Uncle Todd nodded, “See? Perfect. All you have to do is create a great system and you will get it, whatever it is, done, in this case, your devotions. Let’s break it down. First, the timing is not dependent on you. They show up and you’d better be ready. Also, it has significant financial penalties attached. You lose a day of work. Also, it has social consequences. You leave a hole and the men give you a hard time about it.”
“But . . . but how am I going to make missing my devotions . . . all . . . all of those things?”
Uncle Todd shrugged, “You’re not interested,” he said, and he continued rubbing the shoe.
“But,” Abner spluttered, “who says? I think I am.”
“Really?” Uncle Todd looked up now, his bushy eyebrows scrunched together, “Do you really think so? Why? Why not just keep doing what you are doing?”
“Because . . . because it’s affecting my ability to be . . . to be a good father. To be a good husband. To be a good Christian. How . . . how can I raise godly children if I don’t care enough about my faith to even take time to pray and read my Bible regularly?”
“Indeed,” Uncle Todd said, eyebrows raised, “very well said.”
“So, I do care,” Abner said. “But it’s . . . just . . . just that . . . maybe I’ve been relying on willpower instead of a good system like you said.”
“Do you want a system?”
“Sure,” Abner leaned forward, dropping the chunk of bark.
Uncle Todd put the shoe down and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Well . . . let’s do it then. We’ll build you a system. Ready?”
“Ready,” Abner said, leaning in still further.
“Ok. How long do you want your devotions to be?”
“Uh . . . 20 minutes? Is that long enough?”
Uncle Todd shrugged. “Let’s not even go there. Right now, you’re at essentially zero minutes. So even ten minutes is ten minutes you don’t currently have, correct?”
“Yes, Okay. Then let’s say I read a chapter in my Bible, that takes about 5 minutes, and then pray for 10 minutes.”
Uncle Todd nodded, “Better to start with something you’ll do than aim too high then fail. Initially building the habit is more important than what happens in the habit. Let’s start there. When are you going to do it?”
“When in the day?”
“Yes.”
“I guess . . . right after I come home from work?”
“Do you sometimes go away after work or go over to your wife’s parents’ house straight from work because your wife is there?”
“Yeah . . .”
“So that will not work. What about first thing in the morning before the crew truck pulls in?
“Ok . . .”
“Ok, now we have a time set up, and a deadline, and we’ve hooked it to something that will happen anyway. The last part is important.”
“Ok,” Abner nodded, “makes sense.”
“Now, we just need to make it socially, emotionally, and financially painful to fail and you’ll be there.”
Abner looked nervous, “How do . . . do I do that?”
“Simple. Have the crew ask you every morning if you’ve had your devotions. You tell them if you miss it, you’ll pay them each 50 dollars and you’ll buy everybody lunch. Oh, and they can tease you all day about hitting your snooze button.”
Abner swallowed hard and blinked.
Uncle Todd picked up a shoe and began working the laces back into it until Abner, still blinking, squeaked out, “That seems a bit extreme doesn’t it? I mean . . . a normal person shouldn’t have to do all that should they?”
Uncle Todd shrugged. “You could always go back to willpower and see how that works.”
Abner sighed and shook his head, “But the crew . . . I don’t know if they’ll understand. Does it have to be . . .” he trailed off.
“No,” Uncle Todd said, “it can be anyone. Anyone who will not budge on the agreement, that is. I wouldn’t recommend your wife for multiple reasons. It could be your minister, best friend, or even me.”
“Would you?”
“Sure, but trust me, if you set this up, you’re committed.”
Abner shook his head. “It still doesn’t really seem normal.”
Uncle Todd shook his head. “It’s not normal. Normal people routinely go through life underachieving, not doing what they know they should, consistently avoiding things they say are important to them and wasting their lives.”
“Sounds like me,” Abner said nodding.
“Normal is vastly overrated. If something actually matters, well, make it matter. Then it will happen. If you’re not willing to do that then you’re not serious anyway.”
“It just seems so . . . so extreme.”
“It is extreme. Very. It’s also extremely effective.”
“But what . . . what will people say?”
“Don’t tell people.” Uncle Todd shrugged. “They will make fun of you because it is different and because it makes them feel insecure about the things in their life they are not attending to. None of that matters. If something is truly important, then the only thing that matters is that it gets done.”
Abner nodded slowly.
“Tell you what,” Uncle Todd said, “I’ll see you at church every other week. You can report to me then.”
“Ok,” Abner said, nodding.
“So, what is your goal?”
“I’ll read at least one chapter of the Bible and pray at least ten minutes every day.”
Uncle Todd nodded. “When?”
“I’ll be done when the crew truck pulls in the lane.”
Uncle Todd nodded again. “And what will be the penalty if you fail?”
“What is a good number?” Abner asked.
“Well, missing a day of work has been getting you up on time. Set it for that.”
“I guess . . . I make about 25 dollars an hour, and I normally get in ten-hour days, so that comes to 250 dollars. Shall we set it for that?”
“Sounds fine. Do you want social pressure as well?”
“Like what?”
Uncle Todd shrugged and grinned. “I could say . . . tell your ministers if you miss a day. Write a letter to the Budget about it, or—”
Abner paled and shook his head, “Do you really think that’s necessary?”
Uncle Todd laughed. “No. But we can do that if we have to. Really, I think you having to face me every other week will probably be social pressure enough.”
They both laughed.
“But what if somebody ends up in the hospital or something?”
“Then I’ll suspend it till they are home again,” Uncle Todd said. “That’s the beauty of it. But I’m warning you, your excuse had better be good.”
Abner grinned and nodded, looking chagrined. “Do . . . do other people do this sort of weird thing?”
Uncle Todd grinned. “Absolutely. Thousands and thousands.”
“They do?”
“Sure. It happens all the time. It’s called a commitment contract. There are all sorts of ways to do it. With a trusted partner like we’re doing it. With a group accountability meeting. For the web users of the world there are even websites like beeminder.com and StickK that offer commitment contracts as a service. There is a whole underground community of people making sure they do what they say they will do.”
“Wow,” Abner said, “I never knew.”
“There are other ways too. Some people just use a mental device. They don’t even use commitment contracts. For example, some people make it a point to write, say, 100 words a day. They have a calendar and every day they write the hundred words they put a X on that day’s calendar block. You try to see how long a string you can create without breaking the chain. When you get a long chain, say 150 days in a row, you really don’t want today to be the day that you have to start over at zero. It’s remarkably effective for some types of people. But let’s not miss the point. All of this is just a means to an end. We do these things to make sure the things that really matter, that really need to happen, do happen.
“How would you like to get to the end of your life and be lying on your deathbed and realize you never really had the relationship with your children you could have, because you didn’t prioritize time with them every day? Never really had that close friendship with your wife because you didn’t set aside time every day to talk to her. To be staring at the ceiling above your deathbed, about to cross over, and realize you are going to meet a God you really never took the time to know.”
Abner swallowed hard and looked away blinking.
“Wise people simply don’t leave these things up to chance. They make them happen.”
“They don’t waste time wishing for more willpower and they don’t worry about what others will think, because most others are going to end up in that exact deathbed situation. Are you going to live your life according to them or are you going to set the stakes high enough you’ll make sure the right things happen?”
Abner looked out across the treetops pinching his bottom lip and nodding slowly then sighed. It was not the defeated sigh he’d done earlier but a long deep sigh, cleansing and expelling something from deep within himself. Then he stood and straightened his shoulders and smiled, still looking out over the valley below. Finally, he turned, looking the old man in the eye. Abner’s eyes were now steady and clear.
“Thank you, Uncle,” he said quietly, “thanks a lot.” Then he turned and started down the mountain, his head up, his shoulders back. Uncle Todd, watching him go, simply nodded and smiled.
Darryl Derstine lives in Holmes County Ohio with his wife and
7 children. If you have questions about stewardship and gifting,
or to request a copy of this article, you can reach Darryl or one
of the CAM Foundation team at bss@camoh.org or 330-893-4915.
Read more articles on our website at www.camf.org.
