Sir Isaac Newton was a pretty smart guy; inventing calculus, elucidating gravity, and never getting married are just a few examples of his genius. Aside from getting hit on the head with an apple, he’s also famous for his three laws of motion. Almost everyone seems to know at least a little about these laws, and they have played an important role in the development and improvement of science and technology since their inception.

The first of Newton’s laws is often referred to as the law of inertia. This has been described in various ways with various wordings, but the definition I’m going to use is this one from The Physics Classroom:

“An object at rest stays at rest and an object in motion stays in motion with the same speed and in the same direction unless acted upon by an unbalanced force.”

While this principle obviously applies to objects from a physics standpoint, it also applies to us as people (not just from a physics standpoint).

I’m fairly confident most of us have had moments or days or weeks in which we have a terribly hard time finding the motivation or the discipline to get out of bed or off the couch and tackle the activities of life. When we’re at rest we tend to stay at rest unless acted on by an unbalanced force. Inversely, when we’re energized and working hard and getting stuff done, it can sometimes be hard to stop, especially if we’re enjoying what we’re doing; when we’re in motion we tend to stay in motion.

Our motivational state depends on the forces acting on us, and we determine which forces act the most strongly. We do this based on what we give our time and attention to: friends, family, the news, fear, attractive individuals, etc. The more time and attention we give, the stronger the force and the greater the influence. If we always spend time with people who want nothing more than to sit in front of the TV for days, we tend to become people who want nothing more than to sit in front of the TV for days. If we spend all day on social media, we tend to develop the same attitudes and views as those we follow (even if we think we’re immune to it), and act accordingly.

No matter the influences we surround ourselves with, however, we are always the strongest force in our life. We still experience other influences, and they do affect our trajectory, but the course of our life is largely dependent on our own efforts or the lack thereof. This isn’t always clear, and sometimes we may feel we are bound under the influence of some other force that we cannot conquer (depression, anxiety, sickness/disease, addiction), but it is true. This isn’t to say these other influences aren’t strong; indeed they are some of the strongest forces we feel, but history is full of great men and women who have faced these forces and overcome them, through their own force of will (Theodore Roosevelt, Helen Keller, and Winston Churchill all come to mind, among many others).

We, too, have this power. We are the ones who decide if we’re going to succumb to the inertia of nothing and stay on our couch all day, or if we’re going to fight it and do the things we really, deeply want to do. We determine the speed with which we move, and the direction we’re travelling, even when unexpected events temporarily move us off course. Sometimes we find that the course we are pursuing isn’t the best one, and unless we do something about it, inertia ensures that we will stay on that path. It takes effort and courage to get our lives onto the path that will lead us to the greatest happiness and satisfaction, and sometimes it may seem like the obstacles in our way are insurmountable, but they are not. As Ella Wilcox wrote,

There is no chance, no destiny, no fate,
Can circumvent, or hinder, or control
The firm resolve of a determined soul.
Gifts count for nothing, will alone is great,
All things give way before it, soon or late.
What obstacle can stay the mighty force
Of the sea-seeking river in its course,
Or cause the ascending orb of day to wait?

Each will-born soul must win what it deserves.
Let the fool prate of luck. The fortunate
Is he whose earnest purpose never swerves,
Whose slightest action or inaction, serves
The one great aim.
Why, even death stands still
And waits an hour, sometimes, for such a will.

“Will” by Ella Wilcox

One of the many phrases floating around in society is “What would Jesus do?” Usually this is used as a guiding moral question, and I rather like the idea. After all, most (though perhaps not all) Christians try to live their lives as similarly to Jesus as possible (in principle, not literally; I don’t know of anyone that’s actively trying to walk on water or anything). As I’ve considered this question and its implications in my own life, however, I’ve found that the principle is powerful but the scope is limited.

The question “What would Jesus do?” helps me in situations where the options are more discrete, with the two sides clearly delineated and everything seemingly black and white. It forces me out of any morally grey area I’m lounging in, and reminds me that in a choice between good and bad, I should probably choose the good. In a decision between helping someone in need or ignoring them and continuing on my way, it helps to remember that Jesus would stop and help, no matter the personal inconvenience.

In more ambiguous situations, however, this principle loses a lot of its power. When I’m trying to decide between two good things (or, more likely, two not-bad things), asking what Jesus would do doesn’t really give me the insight I’m looking for. If I were a good person (lol) trying to decide if I should tutor orphans in math or if I should work in a soup kitchen instead, asking what Jesus would do isn’t as helpful. What would he do? Probably both, and then a bit extra, plus a little miracle here and some profound doctrinal teaching there. I don’t feel capable of all that, so I’m left in the same position as before, with no idea as to the best course of action.

To remedy this, I rethink the question: rather than asking “What would Jesus do?” I prefer to ask “Would Jesus do this with me?” You might say this is an equally unhelpful question when considering the previous example, as he would both tutor orphans and work in a soup kitchen with me, so I would still be in the same position as before, but there is an important difference. Asking what Jesus would do gives the impression, subtle though it may be, that we are expected to do exactly as he would, that we need to be as perfect as he is in our decision-making (a clear impossibility for most of us laypeople). In contrast, asking if Jesus would participate with us in our decision takes away the pressure of perfectionism, and allows us to be confident that our efforts are, though not perfect, good enough. We should still try to make the best decisions we can, and we shouldn’t settle for inferior options, but knowing that Jesus would accompany us in our activities is a powerful assurance, and it has helped me many times when I’ve found myself unsure of how to proceed. So the next time you find yourself unsure of a decision, instead of worrying too much about what exactly Jesus would do, consider whether or not he would do it with you.

We all seem to want answers. And when we want answers we typically ask questions. This is pretty great, and has served us well for the better part of however long humans have existed. Questions are the lifeblood of learning, and without them progress and advancement nearly disappear. Without them we tend not to get answers, or the answers don’t make any sense. Sometimes the answers come before the questions. Sometimes knowing the questions is just as important as knowing the answer (What is Jeopardy?).

No matter our position in life, questions seem to come naturally to us. Many jobs consist of asking questions (can I take your order?). Children are question machines. Every scientific discovery generally begins with a question. We create and develop friendships and relationships in large part by asking and answering questions. We are an inquisitive people, with good reason: questions are a vital part of life.

Most people seem to understand this concept. What fewer people seem to understand (or apply), is the concept of question quality. Asking questions is important, but asking good questions is even more so.

What constitutes a good question may depend on the context of course, and a good question in one situation can be a terrible question in another. Some questions, however, are chronically low-quality, especially those involved in some basic social interactions: “What’s up?” “How’s life?” “What’s crack-a-lackin?” These kinds of low-quality questions have been ingrained into our collective social consciousness, losing nearly all meaning as actual questions. The answers they receive are therefore equally meaningless (“Fine,” “Good,” “Nothin”), so these questions almost aren’t even worth asking (Almost. They do still fulfill some important social requirements in certain situations).

Good questions, on the other hand, make us think in new ways, or make us think at all. They challenge preconceptions and assumptions, and open up new avenues of dialogue and discussion. I’m not an expert on good questions, and I don’t always know how or when to ask better questions, but I do think we could all benefit from trying to ask better questions in most situations. Tim Ferriss has an excellent view on this, and spoke much more eloquently than I:

Life punishes the vague wish and rewards the specific ask. After all, conscious thinking is largely asking and answering questions in your own head. If you want confusion and heartache, ask vague questions. If you want uncommon clarity and results, ask uncommonly clear questions.

Often all that stands between us and what we want is a better set of questions.

“Tribe of Mentors”

As I said before, I’m not an expert on asking good questions, and I struggle with this concept in my own life, but I think Tim Ferriss is right. It pays to examine the questions we ask. Sometimes we need to question our questions: why are we even asking? How can we improve the question? Do we actually need to know the answer right now? This applies broadly in life: in religion, education, relationships, work, economics, and the list goes on. So if you feel you’re not getting the answers you want (or any answers at all), take a step back and look at the questions you’re asking.

The philosopher Heraclitus has said the only constant in life is change (or, change is the only constant in life. Or, the only thing that is constant is change. It depends how you translate it or what Google results you look at). Change is indeed unavoidable; it permeates all aspects of life. Personal change is especially important, and millions (billions?) of dollars have been spent on self-help books, life coaches, and advice columns, all with the goal of helping people change.

Change and growth are often used interchangeably (intergrowthably?) when speaking in these contexts, but I’ve found they aren’t quite the same; to grow is to change, but to change isn’t necessarily to grow. The difference can be subtle, but it’s important.

To illustrate this, let’s turn our attention to plants, some of the greatest teachers. A plant can change without growing: it can shrivel, petrify, or oxidize (in more scientific terms, catch on fire), all without growing a single new root or shoot. For a plant to grow, it must go places it’s never gone before. A plant cannot grow while staying put; it must push deeper into the earth to grow stronger roots. It must reach outwards to grow longer branches and leaves. It must reach higher in order to reach its potential.

So too with humans. People can change in countless ways without any ounce of growth (we’ll call this “non-growth change”). They can change their interests, their habits, or their hairstyle, all while remaining essentially the same person. In order to experience growth, we, like plants, must go places we’ve never gone before, both figuratively and literally. We need to have those uncomfortable conversations, talk to people we may not normally talk to, take the class we’ve been interested in, or try that hobby we’ve always wanted to start. Growth is dynamic, and cannot be achieved standing still.

Non-growth change is still important: it helps cultivate relationships (making habits less annoying), improve productivity (helping use time better), and the list goes on. Non-growth change can even be an important facilitator or precursor of growth, giving us more time, energy, or resources for growth-related pursuits. It is vital, however, not to confuse non-growth change with real growth. We can’t become complacent in our lives because we feel that we’re changing enough; no amount of change will ever make up for a lack of growth. It is only by growing that we reach our potential (whatever that may mean), and that can only be achieved by going where we’ve never gone before.