What Is Your Catalyst for Change?

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A person will stay in their status quo — no matter how unfulfilling or even painful it may be — until the discomfort of keeping it becomes greater than the pain of changing. We often wait until our back is against the wall before we’re finally willing to take that leap.

Despite what you may have read, most people don’t actually like change. We don’t avoid it just because it’s hard — we avoid it because the unknowns of change can be unnerving. Change signals the end of something we’ve grown used to. Even when our current circumstances aren’t healthy for us or make us unhappy, they’re still familiar.

Change disrupts our routines and our sense of control. It forces us to loosen our grip on the known and embrace the uncertainty of the new. And we often resist this not because we’re lazy or unaware, but because endings are emotionally taxing. Psychologists remind us that every real change involves a period of mourning. You’re leaving behind something — even if it’s something that wasn’t serving you well.

Author David Maister offers a unique perspective on change in his book Strategy and the Fat Smoker: Doing What’s Obvious But Not Easy. He says we likely already know what we should do in life and business. We know we should eat better, drink less, exercise more and quit bad habits. At work, we know we need to build deeper client relationships, act more like a team and finally implement that software we bought two years ago. The problem isn’t knowing what to do or even how to do it because, thanks to the Internet, the what and how are at our fingertips. The problem is doing what we already know we should do.

Maister tells his own story of being an overweight smoker. He knew he needed to change, but didn’t — until a medical crisis landed him in the hospital. That crisis became his catalyst to change. In five months, he stopped smoking and lost thirty pounds. The pain of staying the same finally outweighed the pain of change. His old habits were no longer comfortable and, in fact, became dangerous to his future.

But here’s the thing: not everyone responds to the crisis in front of them. Many people see the warning signs, feel the pain and still go back to what they know. Why?

There are two main reasons.

First, our brains are wired for habit. Neuroplasticity refers to our brain's ability to adapt to change throughout our lifetime. Forming a new habit requires the creation and reinforcement of new neural pathways. So, trying to change means forging entirely new pathways in the brain, which takes time — some say 3–6 months — as well as repetition and discomfort. Meanwhile, the old habits always remain like dry riverbeds — just waiting for the next flood of stress or temptation to flow back into them. This is often when we revert to our old habits.

Second, we are wired for instant gratification, and change almost always involves delayed gratification. The pain of change is immediate; the benefits are uncertain and far off. Choosing to change your lifestyle to align with your desired change requires sustained motivation without the instant payoff.

This applies to our spiritual life as well.

Like all Catholics, Catholic business leaders are called to know, love and serve God. We are called to be a gift to others and to integrate our faith into our work. We are called to holiness.

And like all the other things we know we should do — and already know how to do — we don’t act on our calling, our vocation as Catholic leaders, at least not in a way that produces deep change, until something shakes us. A spiritual crisis due to burnout or a sinful stumble or fall can create a moment of painful clarity that reminds us we’ve been compartmentalizing our faith, keeping God at the periphery rather than making him the center.

A great example of a crisis that produced change is St. Ignatius Loyola, who was hit by a French cannonball and shattered his right leg. That wasn’t crisis enough for him, though, as he refused to give up his military aspirations and went through additional surgeries to repair the damage done. His crisis created the condition for his conversion, namely, his time in the hospital while he recuperated. He reportedly requested books on chivalry and romance, but instead received books on the life of Christ and the saints. He vacillated between thoughts about romantic pursuits and war and the spiritual aspirations inspired by the saints he read about.

Loyola gradually noticed that when he imagined himself as a knight and with fair maidens, he felt an initial sense of excitement about the prospect, but that the excitement quickly faded to a sense of emptiness. At the same time, the spiritual reflections about Christ and the saints left him with a lasting peace.

That’s the essence of spiritual growth. We are pulled to the worldly, since our habits were formed by the world. To mature in faith and become servant leaders, we must first let go of that status quo. That might mean letting go of ego, comfort, control or success as the world defines them. It will mean grieving old habits and comfortable sins, then surrendering them to a greater purpose God has planned for you.

What will be your catalyst for change? And when it comes, will you have the strength to accept it?