The Art of Deliberate Decisions : Pacing a Response

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Life presents us with countless crossroads—moments that can reshape our futures. Some offer greater wealth or a dream job. Others might be a romantic opportunity or even a simple choice: attend this party or that event?

We don’t always handle these decisions wisely. Sometimes we act impulsively, on the spur of the moment. Other times, we agonize for hours, weighing every angle.

Early in my career, I learned this lesson the hard way. I grew frustrated when an employer ignored a union rule that affected my earnings. Earning my union membership hadn’t been easy, so I rashly spoke up. What I failed to foresee was the fallout: the backlash from higher-ups poisoned relationships with colleagues who bore the brunt of the reaction. In the end, I relented, but the damage to goodwill was done.

As a young man, I often charged ahead without considering consequences. Poor choices revealed themselves quickly; better ones proved their worth over time. But haste rarely served me well—it short-circuited opportunities I already had in hand, simply because I misread situations or people.

Wisdom isn’t innate for everyone; many of us acquire it through experience. For me, it came gradually, as I learned to navigate life’s unpredictable currents.

I observed this in my parents. They deliberated carefully over major choices, sometimes debating intensely yet respectfully about what was best for our family. Watching their methodical approach slowly shaped my own thinking.

Later, when film roles came my way, I adopted a similar deliberateness. I’d study the script, consider the character’s impact on my career and reputation, and ask: Does this align with my values? If a project conflicted with my faith in God or my moral principles, I’d decline politely—”Thank you for the opportunity”—and move on. Only once did this bite me: producers seemed surprised by my refusal, and no further offers came from them.

Yet a closed door can lead to better ones. Life rewards those who choose wisely, often opening unexpected paths.

This thoughtful approach extended beyond acting. People began seeking my advice on career and life matters, eventually leading to my election to public office.

Life is full of lessons from our mistakes. When we apply them, we refine our decision-making—and others notice, trusting us to guide them too.

Have I always made the best choices? No. But life is an ongoing experiment in growth. With faith as our compass, God presents doors; we decide which to walk through. If we’re blessed with discernment, we choose the ones that lead to fulfillment.

Read more of Randall’s thoughts in Seeing Faith : A Devotional . 

Turning Over a New Leaf : Let Go of the Baggage

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We all carry baggage through life—emotional weights from things we’ve done or things done to us. No matter the source, this baggage slows our journey, making us slaves to it. We feel compelled to pick it up and haul it everywhere, in everything we do.

I understand why we cling to it. For many, that burden defines our identity; without it, who are we? Some adopt a “poor, pitiful me” mindset, like Eeyore from Winnie the Pooh—constantly seeking pity from others. Others carry a chip on their shoulder, daring the world to knock it off, always ready for a fight.

Both postures drain immense energy, mentally and emotionally, just to maintain them. There are likely other ways we manifest this baggage, but these two capture the extremes.

Early Experiences

Early in life, I leaned toward the chip-on-the-shoulder style. Deep hurt fueled an “I’ll show you” attitude: I’d work harder, excel faster, strive for perfection, and achieve heights others only dreamed of. In many ways, it served me well—it channeled anger into drive and success. But underneath, it wasn’t healthy. Holding onto grudges against specific people prevented a more balanced life. I might have paused to smell the roses, nurtured relationships instead of sabotaging them to avoid hurt, or allowed vulnerability.

Would I go back and drop that chip entirely? At this stage, probably not—it shaped who I am today. Yet I was profoundly relieved when I finally unpacked the bitterness, anger, and pain from my psyche. Those people had moved on long ago, but I’d kept them neatly packed in my emotional bag. Opening it and pouring everything out was liberating. There was another season when I became more like Eeyore. Life’s trials left me missing out on milestones others enjoyed—a lasting relationship, family, an identity beyond career. It felt like “keeping up with the Joneses,” but circumstances denied me even the chance to try. That self-pity entrenched me in a rut, robbing joy from everyday life.

Finding a path

Eventually, I dumped that baggage too—the pain sustaining it—and moved forward lighter. Do I still carry some? Yes. Is it good for me? No. I work to unpack it piece by piece, aiming for a lighter load so my steps have bounce instead of thud.

As a lifelong Christian, I’ve walked with Jesus, relying on Him. Yet for years, I feared surrendering these burdens fully, even knowing He invites us to cast them on Him. Each time I’ve emptied my bag, it’s been through recognizing God’s grace and Jesus’ daily help in releasing hurts, overcoming anger, and living more abundantly.

I’m not there yet—the big trunks are now an overnight bag. I hope to empty it completely before my journey ends. The load is already so much lighter.

Read more of Randall’s inspiring thoughts in Seeing Faith : A Devotional .