The Problem with 4
When I see a problem, I have a tendency to get tunnel vision. It feels like it’s my responsibility to solve or fix the problem, if it’s within my ability to do so. But it can consume me. My brain, eyes, and body get so hyperfocused on the issue at hand, like the Death Star’s lasers all joining in as one very intentional, intense, and accurate power with the ability to obliterate any problem.
But I’m not the Death Star. Nor should I be or even want to be. It’s just the best way I know how to describe how I seem to be wired. If there is a problem, my impulse is to dwell on it until something changes.
This is so wrong for so many reasons.
First of all, it feeds my longing for control. My subconscious thought process is: If I can obsessively think about it, I am having some control over it. But am I really? No. All I’m doing is donating my entire brain space to an issue that I might not even be able to affect. In return, I am denying any brain space to all the other elements of my life – including all the good things!
Focusing on the problem doesn’t necessarily mean that I am simultaneously thinking of solutions. It might mean that I really am just staring at the problem, merely trying to will it to go away, which obviously never works. Again, I’m only defeating myself by doing this – allowing myself to get stuck in my own head about a problem without doing anything to bring about change. Recently God brought this scene from Patch Adams to my mind…
Focusing on the problem without actively looking for ways to bring about solutions is unproductive and damaging. The problem is 4, but the answer is 8. The problem is more obvious to us – often very much in-our-faces – , but the answer might be found by gaining a new perspective, by asking for help, or by simply getting out of our own heads.
More than anything, though, by hyperfocusing on a problem, I am showing my lack of trust in God. I might try to convince myself that I am talking to God about it all, but really I’m still trying to control the thing by worrying and obsessing. I might think I’m giving something over to God, but I actually keep asking Him to give it back to me. That isn’t trust; that’s me trying to micromanage God. And just typing that last sentence helps me see just how ridiculous and pointless (not to mention arrogant) that is of me!
This subject is heavy on my heart these days, because I see a substantial and quite damaging problem in one of my sons, and it’s almost all I can think about each day. My mind and heart are consumed with it. But being consumed with it isn’t helping my son, and it is only hurting me. It steals my time, my energy, my joy, my life. I’m not changing anything by hyperfocusing on it, and as much as I’ve tried to align all my Death Star lasers to obliterate this problem, it’s just not happening.
Then what shall I do? My problem-solving self says it’s unloving not to give as much brain power as possible to solving the problem at hand. All systems should be Go on this “4” until it’s fixed. That should work, right?
Those of you who are reading this and are seasoned parents are probably raising your eyebrows, wrinkling your foreheads, and whispering a solemn but apologetic “No” toward your screen. Because you know. You know that we cannot control our children. We can teach them, lead them, counsel them, encourage them, and pray for them, but we cannot control their behaviors, thought processes, attitudes, or actions. As Scott Mulvahill sings, “It’s the curse of being free.”
This is incredibly hard for me as a parent. I want to do and give everything I can to my children to help them become what God created them to be. But I also have to remember that it has to be their own choice; no one in the world can make it for them. Parents, when we see our children following a pathway to destruction, we can feel completely helpless, and that is not a good feeling.
So I must follow the advice that I always give my children: You can only control yourself. In this case, I must stop giving all my time, energy, and brain space to feeble attempts at detonating the “4” I see in my son’s life. Instead, I must look beyond the problem and into his heart (which definitely doesn’t respond well to lasers being pointed at it). I must release my grip, my attempts at control. I must free up my mind to think about other things and other people. And I must surrender my son to the Lord, who is the only One who can bring about real, lasting change anyway.
The problem with 4? It can be a well-disguised, all-consuming life-stealer. We must not get stuck there.
