Word of Wisdom: Risk
“People who don't take risks generally make about two big mistakes a year. People who do take risks generally make about two big mistakes a year.”
Peter Drucker
In a pivotal scene from the film adaptation of The Two Towers, the fearful, conservative, grief-stricken King Theoden considers his course of action as the leader of a war-weary, vulnerable nation.
Gandalf and Aragorn—who have just arrived and have already demonstrated their trustworthiness as advisors and advocates by delivering Theoden from a state of spiritual stupor induced by the enemy—counsel the king to fight by riding out and meeting the foe head on.
The self-doubting king’s response is defiant, and defensive: “I will not bring further death to my people. I will not risk open war.”
“Open war is upon you, whether you would risk it or not,” is Aragorn’s realism-infused reply.
Like the good king, many of us invest much time and energy attempting to avoid risks that are already upon us.
Whether the perceived risk is emotional, financial, professional, reputational, or marital, we argue against action in order to avoid provoking the dreaded danger that our mind is fixed on. All the while, we are expending personal resources managing risk while also shouldering the opportunity costs of not “taking the risk” in the first place.
Risk, it seems, is a double-edged sword.
And, accordingly, I tend to have a love/hate relationship with it.
In certain circumstances, I like to breathe deep and take the plunge; usually in the context of people and places. I’ve moved across the country and around the world with little more than a goal and a gut feeling, and I’ve gone all in on certain relationships even when disputes, disappointments, or flat-out betrayals might have made the investment seem far too risky.
In other cases, though, my risk profile is different. I’m generally conservative in my portfolio and normally hesitant to place big bets with my assets, financial or otherwise; to wit, back in my playing days, film sessions would often reveal that I too often held the ball to avoid a turnover rather than pulling the trigger and letting my receiver make a play.
Yet, what I’m realizing in this season, and what decades of living and leading teaches most of us, is that risk is not just unavoidable in life—it is inherent to life.
To live is to risk. And to be fully alive is, perhaps, to risk continually.
The word itself leads us on an interesting journey of discovery. The English term risk has its origins in ancient Greek seafaring, where rhiza—meaning “a root, stone, or piece of land”—came to represent a danger to be avoided while navigating a ship. From the Greek it passed into Latin and then to Italian (rischio), Spanish (riesgo), and German (risiko)—all meaning, in effect, “risk, hazard, danger”.
By the 18th century, however, the term had evolved from denoting simply an obstacle to be avoided to a positive connotation of “the chance taken in any economic enterprise”. In Middle German, it had even come to mean the daring hope of economic success through a new venture.
An alternative theory of the word’s origin is even more intriguing. Quite possibly it came into English from across the Mediterranean, where the Arabic rizk meant “provision”, and—from an Aramaic and Persian source—even implied “daily bread”.
Daily provision. Hardly something to be avoided.
Indeed, the record is replete with the testimonial evidence of sons throughout history who discovered that “risk-taking” meant daring to experience uncertain environments for the sake of promised provision. At times it was journeying into the desert, sometimes not journeying from it; entering into the promised land, or not fleeing from it; speaking truth to power, or simply representing it; receiving outsized returns, or rejecting the professional positions that made those returns possible.
The Creator, it seems, has nothing against risk; indeed, as has been pointed out by others, faith might just as well be spelled “r-i-s-k”. If so, then what we refer to as our “risk tolerance” could be thought of as our “fear index”. And fear, lo and behold, is the thing that both robs us of the returns we hope for and wrecks the true relationship we so desire.
To live is to risk; and perhaps, with apologies to Robert Frost, to choose the risk less taken is to live fully.
That will make all the difference.
“Joseph of Arimathea took a risk and went to Pilate and asked for Jesus' body.”
Mark 15:43a (NLT)