Some years ago, I had a mentor who possessed the annoying habit of correcting what seemed like perfectly harmless English. Every time I found myself excited about something, like promotion I was hoping for, a holiday I had planned, a new opportunity on the horizon—I would naturally blurt out, “I can’t wait!”.
Without fail she would smile, pause, and respond, “You can wait.”
She had a remarkable ability to expose things I didn’t even realise I believed. Like most people, I wasn’t making a profound philosophical statement. I was simply expressing excitement.
But she insisted that words are rarely just words. They reveal beliefs, and beliefs, whether consciously chosen or unconsciously inherited, eventually shape reality.
“I can’t wait” is more than anticipation. It quietly tells your mind that your present state is somehow insufficient. That fulfilment exists somewhere in the future, and until then you’re incomplete. The waiting itself becomes an inconvenience rather than part of the journey.
Now contrast that with, “I can wait.” It’s the same desired outcome, but anchored on a completely different belief. One acknowledges that some things take time. That growth has seasons. That contentment and anticipation are not enemies. That perhaps Solomon knew what he was talking about when he wrote that there is “a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven.”
Over the years, I have become increasingly suspicious of ideas that “everyone knows”, not because they are necessarily wrong, but because they often arrive pre-installed.
Someone else thought them up, Culture repeated them, Media amplified them, Friends joked about them, and eventually they slipped quietly into our subconscious where they began making decisions on our behalf.
Take the famous saying, “Work hard. Play hard”. For years that translated into something entirely different in my own life, “Work hard. Sin hard”.
After days of exhausting work came days of equally exhausting indulgence. Overspending disguised as celebration. Poor decisions justified as “blowing off steam.” Temporary highs followed almost predictably by fatigue, guilt and regret. The slogan wasn’t merely describing behaviour; It was prescribing it.
Then there is, “YOLO – You Only Live Once”. On the surface it sounds freeing, but underneath it quietly whispers, “Tomorrow isn’t promised, so maximise today.” Unfortunately maximising today often becomes sacrificing tomorrow.
Another favourite of the self help motivational community is, “In 300 years nobody will remember your name”. True perhaps, but notice where the statement subtly leads. If nobody will remember me……why sacrifice?…why serve?…why remain faithful?…why plant trees whose shade I’ll never sit under?
Before long a subtle nihilism creeps in. Personal gratification becomes the highest good because history has supposedly rendered everything else meaningless.
Christian Scripture presents an entirely different framework that I Love. We were never called to be remembered. We were called to be faithful.
I’ve come to learn there is a profound difference between chasing legacy, and seeking obedience. Before I was born, God knew what my life was meant to be about, and he chose me for a time and a season and a boundary. The only Legacy that matters is his. I am simply an ambassador of his Kingdom.
One of the most influential beliefs I encountered during my years in the corporate world was this one: “If you’re not seated at the table, you’re on the menu”. It sounds clever, and it also happens to be deeply cynical, and inaccurate.
Not everyone gets to sit at the boardroom table. Some build the table. Some grow the food served on it. Some prepare the meal. Some wash the dishes afterwards. Civilisation has never depended only on those making decisions. It has always depended on millions faithfully fulfilling callings that rarely attract titles or applause. If those seated at the table truly believe everyone else exists to be consumed, perhaps therein lies the reason why inequality and exploitation persist generation after generation.
Beliefs, even the nuanced, ‘harmless’ ones, have consequences. This is why I have learned to pause whenever a statement feels universally accepted.
Experience has taught me to become discerning and ask the uncomfortable questions; Where did this belief come from? Who benefits if I believe it?
Does it align with the person I consciously want to become, or has it quietly been shaping me without my permission? It doesn’t make me a fun coffee date to have, but it’s reshaping my world for the better.
One last one. Take Success.
Many young men have unknowingly accepted the belief that success is little more than an ever-increasing collection of achievements, titles and income. The scoreboard never stops moving. Every milestone simply introduces another and the so called rat race continues.
Then something interesting happens. I’ve recently watched many men—including myself—approach their late thirties and early forties and quietly step off the treadmill.
This is not because they became less ambitious, but rather because they finally became more honest.
They rediscovered dreams that had been buried beneath promotions. They are paying more attention to their wives. They are becoming present fathers instead of impressive providers. They are pursuing callings God had whispered into their hearts decades earlier. Virtually all of us carry the same regret; “I wish I had realised this sooner.”
You see, reality often follows belief far more faithfully than effort. This is because belief determines what effort is directed toward.
A few years ago a Spiritual mentor drew my attention to Romans 12:1–2, a one passage of Scripture that fundamentally changed the trajectory of my life, because it exposed the battlefield.
“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind…”. Notice, Paul doesn’t begin with behaviour. He begins with belief.
Transformation isn’t merely learning new habits. It is allowing God to dismantle ideas that have quietly governed us for years and replacing them with something truer. Only then, Paul says, can we discern God’s good, acceptable and perfect will.
I have come to believe that the greatest obstacle to following Christ is rarely outright rebellion. It is unconscious conformity to beliefs we never chose, and stories we never questioned. It is definitions of success, masculinity, happiness, purpose and fulfilment that were handed to us long before we possessed the wisdom to evaluate them.
So here’s my challenge to you.
Find one belief you hold that feels completely obvious, then ask yourself why. Who taught it to you? Is it actually true? Or has it simply been repeated so often that you’ve mistaken familiarity for truth?
The life you eventually build will rarely rise above the beliefs you quietly carry, so choose them carefully.
