No Plan B
The Power of Committing to One Thing - A Commencement Speech
A few weeks ago, our local homeschool co-op asked me to give a commencement speech. I titled it “No Plan B.” The ideas in this speech make up a large part of my philosophy of life. The “you” are the graduates, but also you and, of course, always me. I hope this inspires you.
No Plan B
We weren’t coming back. There was no family there, no friends, just us. Would I fail and embarrass my family?
I hope, in a world where nothing lasts for more than a few news cycles or posts by the next half-baked influencer, I can impart something to you of some value—something that, later in life, you might look back on and say, oh yeah. I remember Mr. Tim mentioned something about that. I guess he really wasn’t crazy after all.
But then you realize that if you take these words and put them into practice, you might be the one called crazy. Crazy because what we’re about to talk about is not sanctioned by the Plastic People.
The Plastic People are those along life’s road who think they’ve figured it all out. When the Plastic People see you living your life, they will blow a gasket because it will not compute. They will hand you a formula called “Life’s Safe Little Formula,” and they’ll tell you to follow it to the letter. Don’t veer off the well-worn path.
They will teach you the word “contingency” and tell you to always have one.
“Have what?” you ask.
“A contingency plan,” they reply.
But you will look them square in the face and say, “I’m sorry, but there is no plan B.”
Total Commitment
No plan B. Think about what that means. It means committing to one thing.
Years ago, our family was preparing to move to England. It was a daunting task. To go, we had to save heaps of cash and sell our house, our cars, and much of our furniture. We had to commit as a family to living in a different country, and I had to commit to a doctoral program that I didn’t even know I could finish.
I did know this about the doctoral program: If you don’t make the cut after one year, they say, “Thank you for coming.” Then they send you home.
But I had to commit, and that commitment set a host of other decisions in motion for our family. It felt scary and unsettling, and I had to fight thoughts of doubt, fear, and anxiety. It felt like there was no turning back when we bought one-way tickets to London. We weren’t coming back. There was no family there, no friends, just us.
Would I fail and embarrass my family?
Months before we left, good friends invited us to dinner. After dinner, my friend said, “So Tim, what if things don’t work out? What’s your Plan B?”
“I don’t have one,” I told him. He laughed because he knew me. And then they promised to support us financially for as long as we were there because they believed in what we were doing. They believed in the No Plan B approach.
Years later, a friend told me about her son wanting to study art in college. She told him that was fine, but to maybe double major in business, you know, for something to fall back on.
“Fall back on?” I said to her. “Why does he need something to fall back on? Let him go hard after the art degree—see what happens.” That conversation didn’t go very far.
This “No Plan B” idea comes with an instruction manual. The manual only contains three steps. If you follow them, you will find yourself on the pathway to where dreams are realized. Here they are.
Step 1—Never save anything for the swim back.
Worry robs you of now. And now is where we touch eternity—it’s where the wonderful happens.
The conversation with my friend about having something to fall back on reminded me of a movie called Gattaca, starring Ethan Hawk. My favorite scene is when Ethan Hawk’s character, Vincent, and his brother Anton, stand on the ocean shore at night.
When they were boys, they’d see who could swim the farthest. It was a test of strength but also of fear.
But Vincent was born with a defective heart. In the movie’s context (it was science fiction), society tagged babies with weaknesses or degenerative problems and cast them aside. Anton was not defective. He was physically superior to Vincent and always swam farther than Vincent.
The brothers hadn’t seen each other in years, and Vincent was pursuing his dream of being an astronaut even though society said he could not do it because of his weaknesses. So, there, the brothers stand on the shore in the dark, and Vincent challenges Anton to do the swim one more time.
They swim into the darkness and mist. Farther and farther they go, with Vincent swimming ahead of Anton, fast and strong. Then Anton stops and shouts, “Vincent, we’re too far out; where’s the shore?
Vincent replies, “You wanna quit?”
“No,” his brother says, and they swim on.
They get farther out and again, Anton stops. He’s breathing hard, and he looks worried.
“Vincent,” he says, “how are you doing this? How are you doing any of this? We have to go back.”
“It’s too late for that,” Vincent says. “We’re closer to the other side.”
“What other side,” shouts Anton. “You wanna drown us both?”
I will never forget Vincent’s response: “You wanna know how I did it?” he said. “This is how I did it, Anton; I never saved anything for the swim back.”
Frustrated and exhausted, Anton panics and begins to swim back. Vincent must decide whether to keep going or go after his brother. As Anton attempts to swim back, he tires and sinks. Vincent catches up to him, dives down, saves his brother, and swims him back to shore.
Vincent, free of anxiety, gave everything to swimming as far and as hard as he could. He didn’t think about conserving energy for the swim back. He gave himself wholly to the race. His commitment to the task of swimming made him strong.
We are an anxious society. We worry about failing more than we think about winning. We stress over things we can’t control more than we focus all our efforts on the task at hand.
Our eyes are so locked into trying to see where the shoreline is that we fail to be in the exact moment we’re in. We’re so bent on trying to be prudent that we spend our energy on anxious thoughts and find that when fear creeps in, we sink into despair.
Jesus reminds us not to worry about everyday life. Life is more than this. Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?
Look at the birds and wildflowers. God sustains them. They do not worry about what they will eat or what clothes they need. And if God sustains them, how much more will he sustain you, his child?
Plan B is the lie of the world. The world counts on you to worry about everything. It tells you to hedge your bet, risk nothing, and play it safe. It’s the mentality of falling in line, doing what you’re told, and not swimming against the current.
But what if I told you that you were made to swim upstream? What if I told you that God wired you for this moment right here, right now? And he wants you to not look past it. Worry robs you of now. And now is where we touch eternity—it’s where the wonderful happens. It’s where we realize I can do this.
This message isn’t for everyone, but it is for you. Because you are a created marvel, and you are meant to LIVE—truly live.
And this leads me to Step 2 in the No Plan B instruction manual.