Prudence, “the ability to make decisions in accordance with reality—is the quintessence of ethical maturity (of which, of course, teach-ability is a great component.)”
Prudence is right reason with regard to right action.

(cite ref. The Four Cardinal Virtues by Joseph Pieper)
Copyright 1966 by University of Notre Dame

A simple illustration I recently used in women’s outreach:

Girl meets boy. He’s funny. He’s cute. He makes her feel special.

Girl desires a long-term relationship with boy. (Right reason?) It depends. Is boy gainfully employed? Does he have a strong work ethic? Does he have integrity? Share her faith? How does he handle conflict? Does he practice self-control? Or did he just get out of rehab? (You get the gist.)

The answers to these questions should NOT be minimized just because girl believes boy is the best kisser in recorded history.

Prudent decisions, in accordance with the writings of St. Thomas Aquinas, require two check marks. __right reason; __right action. Joseph Pieper expands on this particular cardinal virtue in his book. If only I’d known (assuming I would have cared) about The Four Cardinal Virtues in 1997.

I Learned the Hard Way

In 1997 I needed restoration. I’d made several poor life choices, and the consequences had gained frightening momentum. Dizzy from the merry-go-round of dysfunction, I wanted off, but I was afraid. I was afraid because I was in love. Never mind that Mr. Right was drug addicted, and I was clearly co-dependent. Folks in recovery describe it like this: The horns in his head fit the holes in mine.

Godly love moves mountains. Our love was a destructive vortex of unhealed wounds mixed with terrific fun. There were times I half expected to find my car in a tree after we’d spent the day together. Mr. Right would manage to put some clean-time together; bond with my young children. And then he’d disappear on drug-run. I cried at night, and during the day I robbed my children of an emotionally stable environment. Wildly anxious about his whereabouts, I longed to jump off the merry-go-round, but I feared landing . . . alone. So, round and round we went.

Was this prudent? That would be a hard NO. Decades would pass before I was introduced to this eye-opening cardinal virtue.

One might question, did I really want to heal? I believed so. My pain was real; my tears authentic. But truth is, I didn’t want to be made well without a guarantee that the man I loved would heal—with me. He wasn’t willing to give up drugs. I wasn’t willing to surrender the love I had for him to God. The poetic irony in this scenario is that God is LOVE.

When Jesus asked the crippled man at the well if he wanted to be healed, he wasn’t challenging his desire, but rather his resolve to do something different. Something that required a change in the signature rhythms of how we got from one day to the next. He wasn’t merely isolated by a pool of water. He saw others as stronger and more deserving than himself. He’d participated in this isolating relational dynamic for years. He was afraid, so ‘round and ‘round he went.

Merry-go-rounds are a constant challenge in outreach settings. It takes a great deal of compassion to love someone into jumping off as a loved one continues to spin. It’s common to hesitate when there’s no guarantee that they will stick around if we change. It only takes one person to change the dynamic of a relationship. God heals you, and you find yourself with a healthier perspective on life. Most of us have heard the expression water seeks its own level. Healthy folks are not attractive to unhealthy folks. This scenario makes a recovering person high risk for regression. Wise counsel is crucial.

Scripture Reference. John 5:6 “When Jesus saw him lying there, and knew that he already had been in that condition a long time, he said, ‘Do you want to be made well?’”

Points to Ponder

1. Have you ever sabotaged the progress you’ve made for fear of being alone?

2. Professional Counseling . . . are you open to it? Why or why not?

3. Up for a prayer? Loving God, where your spirit resides there is freedom. Open my eyes to see when I am tempted to look away. Teach me to trust you with my pain. I want to be made well. Lift up a standard against the flood of challenges I face. Compel the wounding of my soul to seek refuge in you. Lord, have mercy; I’m fragile. Amen.
   

Peace be with you,

Wendy