The Power of No

Yesterday my brother received the news that he had not passed this year's probationer's exam. This would have allowed him to begin serving as a pastor for the three-year "trial" period in the UMC the precedes ordination. I won't overwhelm you with the details of it, suffice to say, I'm disappointed (in a number of ways) and though I don't doubt there are good reasons, when you're on this side of it, you always have lots of good reasons why their good reasons aren't good enough. I think anyone in my shoes, as big sister, would feel the same. I must say my brother is taking this all in stride...being are more mature and reflective about it that I would be (which perhaps actually makes him better suited for ministry).

I've been struck lately though with the power of No. What a closed door changes. Ends. Postphones. And how it's must easier to close a door than have a door closed on you. We all perfect the art of saying "No" sometime around age two. I don't think any of us ever really enjoy hearing it. The same two year old that confidently says "No" can instantly fall into tears upon hearing it directed at them. To some extent, we struggle with this our entire lives.

Think of any show, movie, or real-life family with teens and you know this scene. Teenager asks for something that parents are not inclined to give or allow. No. Teen responds, "But Moooommm..." etc. Sometimes the parents are right and good for them, hold out. Sometimes they realize they are wrong, or just plain crumble to pressure and the outcome changes. And those little victories encourage us to hope. And resist.

I'm reminded of a study I once heard of that was done at an Ivy League school. Yale, let's say. At the end of a semester-long photography class, students were told they had to pick only one of the two final projects (long-worked-on photographs of which there was only one print). Half the class was told the other photo would be destroyed immediately after the selection. The other half was told they had two weeks to change their minds. There were no other differences between these two groups than that. The study found that a year later, the first group was far more pleased with which photo they selected than the second (few had actually changed their minds). The researchers concluded that simply having a choice created self-doubt and regret. Humans, researchers have repeatedly found, have a remarkable ability to adapt, make due, and even be happy when they have no other choice. Perhaps this explains why so many Americans (with all the choices in our lives) are so much less happy than people in other countries with far less than us.

The power of NO is most painful because it removes an option we previously had. It changes everything and makes other choices more or less necessary. Change of job one year can preclude decisions about childbearing in that period or soon after. Loss of an opportunity at one point can indeed open the way for other opportunities for that same period, but the pain of the path changing is real.

What I have found in my own life--both in hearing and saying No--is that the power of pain it carries is not so much in the opening or closing of doors, but in the compassion of the speaker in understanding the power of that No. It certainly makes a big difference. I have, I am sure, spoken No in painful ways to hear. I have certainly heard No in painful ways.

When I think of how God our Father speaks No to us, I'm reminded of the sayings about how God does answer us, just sometimes says No. But whenever I try to think of what that No looks and feels like, it always seems to me like a loving, gentle father rocking his child in his arms gently saying, "No," understanding the child's pain, and appreciating the shock of the moment. We would all perhaps be better served by doing the same. And when such a response if not forthcoming from those who speak No to us, turning to the Father who cries with us even in moments when those "No"s are the very best for us.