“And to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life and attend to your own business and work with your hands, just as we commanded you…” – 1 Thessalonians 4:11

The Spiritual Discipline of Minding My Business

I beg your pardon, Paul.

Mind your own business?

Right there in the Bible?

Apparently God knew we were going to need that in writing.

Because I have spent an extraordinary amount of mental energy on things over which I have absolutely no jurisdiction.

What other people are doing.

Why they’re doing it.

Whether they should be doing it.

What they think about me.

What they think about someone else.

Whether they’re making a mistake.

Whether they’re learning their lesson.

Whether they understand my point.

Whether they’ve forgiven me.

Whether they’re going to change.

Whether they’re making good financial decisions.

Whether their relationship is healthy.

Whether they’re raising their children the way I would.

Whether they have correctly interpreted a situation in which I have appointed myself chief investigator.

It is exhausting.

And increasingly, I find myself wondering:

What if minding my business isn’t merely a boundary?

What if it’s an act of faith?

I Have Confused Caring With Responsibility

I care deeply about people.

And caring can very easily turn into:

I should do something.

Sometimes I should.

But sometimes caring about something doesn’t make it mine to manage.

That’s a difficult distinction for me.

I can care about someone’s relationship without being responsible for fixing it.

I can worry about someone’s decision without preventing them from making it.

I can love someone who is struggling without rescuing them from every consequence.

I can disagree with someone’s choices without launching a campaign to change their mind.

I can pray for someone without requiring regular progress reports.

Apparently:

I can care without taking over.

Who knew?

Sometimes “Helping” Is Actually Control Wearing a Nice Outfit

Control has excellent public relations.

It rarely introduces itself as control.

It calls itself:

Concern.

Helping.

Protecting.

Just trying to understand.

Wanting what’s best.

Giving advice.

And sometimes those things are exactly what they claim to be.

But sometimes underneath my desire to help is another desire:

I want this to turn out the way I think it should.

That’s different.

There have been times when I’ve thought I was helping someone when what I really wanted was influence over their decision.

I wanted them to see what I saw.

Choose what I would choose.

Avoid the mistake I believed they were making.

And sometimes I may even have been right.

That’s the particularly annoying part.

Being right doesn’t automatically make something my responsibility.

Someone else is allowed to make a decision I correctly predicted would be terrible.

This feels like a design flaw.

Apparently it is called free will.

Advice Is Different When Nobody Asked for It

I have wisdom.

I have life experience.

I have opinions.

Good Lord, do I have opinions.

And sometimes I have information that could genuinely help someone.

But I’ve learned there is a difference between being available to offer wisdom and being determined to make someone receive it.

Jesus Himself didn’t force people to follow Him.

He taught.

Invited.

Warned.

Loved.

And people still walked away.

If Jesus allowed people to walk away from perfect truth, perhaps I can survive someone declining my unsolicited analysis of their situation.

I can say:

“If you want my thoughts, I’m here.”

And then perform the radical spiritual act of…

being quiet.

Minding My Business Includes Other People’s Opinions of Me

This might be the advanced course.

Because I would very much like to supervise what everyone thinks about me.

I would like inaccurate information corrected.

Context provided.

Motives clarified.

Growth acknowledged.

Minutes from all relevant meetings submitted for review.

Unfortunately, other people’s minds are outside my jurisdiction.

If I’ve hurt someone, that’s my business.

If I owe an apology, that’s my business.

If I need to change my behavior, that’s my business.

If someone asks me a sincere question, answering honestly may be my business.

But after I’ve handled what belongs to me?

Their conclusion belongs to them.

I cannot make someone understand me.

I cannot force forgiveness.

I cannot demand that someone recognize my growth.

I cannot chase every version of myself that exists inside someone else’s head.

My character is my responsibility. My reputation ultimately isn’t.

That’s an uncomfortable amount of freedom.

Sometimes I Need to Let People Experience Consequences

This one is especially difficult when I love someone.

If I can prevent pain, why wouldn’t I?

Because sometimes pain teaches something my rescue cannot.

That doesn’t mean I stand by while someone is genuinely unsafe.

It doesn’t mean refusing help to prove a point.

It means recognizing that constantly cushioning someone from the natural consequences of their choices may not actually be loving them well.

Sometimes my interference prevents another person from having the very experience that might teach them something.

I cannot learn someone else’s lesson for them.

I cannot repent for them.

I cannot mature for them.

I cannot want change badly enough for two people.

And I cannot continuously carry consequences that belong to someone else and call it love.

Sometimes the loving response is:

“I’m here. I love you. And this part belongs to you.”

Minding My Business Also Means Handling My Actual Business

This was an unfortunate discovery.

Because while I’m mentally managing everyone else’s life…

mine still needs tending.

My faith.

My marriage.

My family.

My work.

My finances.

My health.

My home.

My commitments.

My character.

My words.

My habits.

My relationship with God.

Perhaps one reason I’m so tempted to examine someone else’s garden is that pulling weeds in mine is considerably less entertaining.

Jesus addresses this pretty directly in Matthew 7 when He talks about noticing the speck in someone else’s eye while ignoring the plank in our own.

Which feels unnecessarily graphic.

But effective.

There is plenty of work available in my own heart.

I don’t need to freelance.

Discernment Is Not the Same as Judgment

There is another ditch here.

Minding my business does not mean pretending I can’t recognize unhealthy behavior.

Christians sometimes get weird about this.

We can observe.

We can discern.

We can recognize patterns.

We can establish boundaries based on what we see.

I don’t have to pretend something is healthy just because I’m not responsible for fixing it.

I can think:

That doesn’t look wise.

And then…

not do anything.

Revolutionary.

Discernment can tell me how I should respond without requiring me to control how they behave.

Maybe I step back.

Maybe I say no.

Maybe I stop lending money.

Maybe I don’t participate.

Maybe I pray.

Maybe I simply take note.

Not every observation requires intervention.

There Are Times When Something Absolutely Is My Business

This matters.

“Minding my business” cannot become an excuse for cowardice.

If someone is being abused, harmed, exploited, or endangered, silence isn’t automatically virtuous.

If someone’s actions directly affect me, they’re my business.

If I’m responsible for a child, certain things are absolutely my business.

If someone has asked me for accountability, that’s different.

If Scripture requires me to speak truth lovingly, I shouldn’t hide behind “not my circus, not my monkeys.”

Although, admittedly, there are many circuses.

And an alarming number of monkeys.

Wisdom is learning the difference.

Sometimes love says:

Speak.

Sometimes love says:

Help.

Sometimes love says:

Intervene.

And sometimes love says:

This isn’t yours. Put it down.

Prayer Is Not a Loophole for Control

I can even try to control people through prayer.

That’s uncomfortable to admit.

“God, please change their heart.”

Translation:

Please make them agree with me.

“God, show them the truth.”

Translation:

My version. Preferably immediately.

“God, work in this situation.”

Translation:

I have attached a proposed itinerary.

I absolutely believe we should pray for people.

But prayer isn’t supposed to be my way of handing God a list of instructions for everybody else.

Sometimes the prayer I need is:

“God, show me what belongs to me here.”

Do I need to speak?

Apologize?

Help?

Wait?

Set a boundary?

Forgive?

Stay?

Leave?

Or do I simply need to trust You with something I desperately want to control?

That prayer turns my attention away from managing someone else and back toward my own obedience.

Minding My Business Requires Trust

I think this is why I’ve started seeing it as spiritual discipline.

Because underneath so much interference is fear.

What if they make the wrong decision?

What if this turns out badly?

What if they never understand?

What if they don’t change?

What if the relationship doesn’t get repaired?

What if I don’t do something?

Minding my business means accepting something I don’t particularly enjoy:

God has access to people I cannot control.

He can work in hearts without my assistance.

He can teach lessons I cannot teach.

He can convict people without my lecture.

He can open doors.

Close them.

Restore things.

Redirect things.

Allow consequences.

Redeem mistakes.

And He can do all of that without consulting me first.

Which is humbling.

And, when I actually believe it, incredibly peaceful.

Maybe I Need a Smaller Job Description

I have spent years applying for positions God never posted.

Director of Other People’s Decisions.

Vice President of Outcomes.

Chief Reputation Management Officer.

Head of Unsolicited Explanations.

Regional Supervisor of Things That Are Absolutely None of My Business.

I’m tired.

Maybe my actual assignment is much smaller.

Love God.

Love people.

Tell the truth.

Keep my word.

Apologize when I’m wrong.

Help when I’m called to help.

Set boundaries when necessary.

Pray.

Practice wisdom.

Tend what God has placed in my hands.

And trust Him with everything He hasn’t.

That sounds considerably more manageable.

Final Thought

I don’t want to become indifferent.

I don’t want “mind your business” to become an excuse for selfishness.

I want to remain someone who cares deeply.

Someone who notices.

Someone who helps.

Someone who speaks when speaking matters.

Someone who shows up.

But I also want to become someone who understands the limits of her assignment.

I don’t need to manage everyone’s relationships.

Correct everyone’s opinions.

Prevent every mistake.

Explain myself to every critic.

Rescue everyone from consequences.

Or determine how every story ends.

Sometimes the most faithful thing I can do is recognize:

This matters to me, but it does not belong to me.

So I can pray about it.

I can love the people involved.

I can remain available.

And then I can return to the things God has actually entrusted to me.

Because there is enough work in my own heart to keep me occupied for quite some time.

And perhaps minding my own business isn’t just about staying out of other people’s lives.

Maybe it’s about finally tending faithfully to mine.

Do what belongs to me.

Trust God with what doesn’t.

I’m beginning to think there’s an awful lot of peace hiding inside those two sentences.