I know this problem well. It’s one that I often speak against in course designs, meeting agendas, and other organizational contexts. You’re trying to do too many things and so you’re not doing any of them well.

The last day of my job was two weeks ago now, and I had high ambitions for what I would produce in the time I freed up. And I have disciplined myself to try and cut things out, to try and focus my attentions so I can produce things worth sharing.

But I’m guilty of not heeding my own advice. I still haven’t narrowed the focus enough.

Of course, it’s only my advice because I find myself repeating it. I first heard it from Andy Stanley and then went a whole lot deeper with Chris McChesney. But it’s harder when you’re the one alone with your ideas and you’re excited about all of them. How do you give yourself the emotional distance to focus on what’s most important?

Sometimes I do what all the TV shows I watched as a kid told me and use my imagination. Imagine someone like me with dreams in his heart came to me and asked for help. What would I say? Sometimes this actually works well. It’s easier to be the villain when I pretend they’re someone else’s dreams.

Normally I have these conversations in the context of an organization that is already set up and doing something. The scope has been narrowed to some degree and just needs a tune-up. I’m finding that starting with a blank slate is much more difficult.

I’ve narrowed down my mission: I resonate with Ephesians 4, where it says that God gave teachers (among others) to the church in order to equip the saints for the work of the ministry. I believe that’s my calling. Based on my personality and passions (and blisters), I’ve narrowed down three core, interrelated practices: learn, create, help. Based on my training and experience, I’ve focused my work on adult Christian education with an eye toward worldview integration. By “integration” what I really mean is “desecularizing” or what Kevin Vanhoozer would call “remythologizing.”

But these are still really big ideas. Who is my audience? Just when I think I have that narrowed down, I find myself concerned to address people outside that audience. Does this mean I’ve identified the wrong group? Or do I need to trust the decision and let a whole lot of other things go? Easier said than done.

Much of my work keeps me in the relationships between faith and reason, between Christ and culture, and between belief and practice. These are still mammoth subjects. You can fit anything in there. (That’s part of what attracts me to them.)

Then there’s the fact that whatever I define for myself professionally, I still have hobbies and, far more importantly, family responsibilities to attend to. So if I can only narrow the focus to three things in each area, I’m doing well—until I do the math and find myself chasing nine goals instead of three.

One of the keys is to remember that it’s not now-or-never. Good things can wait. They always do.

I also have to keep in mind that I may pick the “wrong” first thing. In fact, I’m sure I will. With something this new and open, with the goals still being refined, the strategy will be imperfect. It will be refined with time. As long as I pick something worth doing at all, it won’t be a waste.

Narrowing the focus requires ruthless realism. You can’t spend too much time lamenting all the good things you’re walking away from. You have to embrace with joy the one thing you get to say “yes” to. Then do it with all of your might. (Just make sure you don’t say “wait” to things like time with your family and doing the dishes.)