Yes, boldness. And, caution.
Learn to calculate your decisions so you can act with confidence.
There's a fine line between boldness and recklessness, and it's a line that most of us don't want to cross. At the same time, I don't think any of us want to be remembered as the person who never did anything because they were afraid of where action might lead. How do we take action without experiencing regret because of stepping out too confidently, too soon?
Towers and calculations
There's an old story about a man who wants to build a tower (clearly it’s an old story, because I don’t think I know anyone who just casually builds a tower, but bear with me). If this man fails to calculate the cost before starting construction, he may end up with a foundation that he's unable to finish. The storyteller adds that the builder will be mocked for his lack of foresight. Y’all already know that’s not the ideal result, and the story goes on to tell us how to avoid it. The man who properly calculates the cost and builds the tower accordingly will both accomplish his goal and maintain his reputation.
While the story is about calculating expenses, I think it's a lesson on any type of decision that leads to action. (Granted, I usually use economics to illustrate ideas—see last week's post to read more.) We want to take bold action, but if we don't use caution in our decisions about the actions, we'll often fail ourselves and others. Whether it's running for a leadership position, accepting a job offer, choosing a college, or any other bigger life decision, this story has taught me to both count the cost and build the tower—in that order.
Count the cost
It might be a literal cost, financially, or something a little more abstract; regardless, every action has a cost. What are we giving up by saying yes? What will we gain? Choosing to run for national office a second time was hard. I knew I was putting off a year of school, I would be separated from old friends for long periods of time, and the role would challenge me in ways I'd never experienced. Yet, I also knew that I find the most meaning in pursuing things that are difficult, that I had something left to give to the FFA, and that, for me, it was worth postponing a year of my college and career to have the opportunity to serve. I counted the cost, with caution, and decided it was a one I was willing to cover. There are other areas, though, where I've counted the cost and came up short. I knew I didn't have the bandwidth to run for a student government position last fall, so I didn't start building a tower I couldn't finish. Once we've counted the cost and decided it's one we can afford, that's when we can step out and start building.
Build the tower
Once we know what it will take to follow through with a decision, the time for tentative steps is over. This is the time for boldness, to step out with confidence. We know who we are, we know why we're here, and we'll add the most value when we take action unashamedly. In most cases, there is no value in second-guessing our decision once we've made it. Especially if it's irreversible, we might as well dive headfirst into whatever it is we're building—a new life in a new city, a new skill, a new relationship or season of singleness. After I chose to run for national office, I started preparing myself for the difficult, yet meaningful, process. I set up meetings with as many people as I could that I knew would teach me something—from professors to leaders in agriculture groups to mentors from church. I relentlessly pursued feedback on speeches, ideas, and interviews. Some people challenged my decision to run; I responded by sharpening my ability to articulate why it was worthwhile. I couldn't anticipate every difficulty along the way, but I had made my decision, so I put my stake in the ground. We can act boldly when we've planned cautiously.
As with everything we talk about here, there's a level of complexity to these ideas.
Some decisions are worth rethinking, and sometimes we're wrong about the cost. It is always important to learn to spot the relevant nuances of each case; that being said, I know I need to do a better job of applying the tower-building advice from the old storyteller to my own life.
Decisions, especially big ones, are worth making cautiously. Once the direction is chosen, it's worth taking bold steps forward down the path. Go out there, count your cost, and build your tower.
What’s the metaphorical tower you’re building in your life right now? Let us know in the comments or on social media by tagging @miriamrosah and @nffaevp and using the hashtags #EmbracingComplexity and #FFA21.
New to the blog? Curious about why I push for “yes, and…” in so many areas? Check out the intro post here.