Why do some people become more resilient through hardship while others become stuck?
Change isn’t easy, but it’s inevitable. A lost job. A medical appointment that rewrites your assumptions about the future. An unexpected move.
We reach for what feels like control, because when life moves without our permission, the instinct is to hold tighter to what’s left.
And that’s where we get stuck.
Our brains thrive on predictability, which is why they run constant simulations of what comes next based on past experience.
But when something disrupts the expected sequence, neuroscientists call it a prediction error. It’s the gap between what the brain expected and what actually happened.
But the brain doesn’t just register it as an inconvenience. It registers it as a threat, triggering the amygdala to sound the alarm and flooding our body with cortisol and adrenaline.
It’s what grief experts call the in-between. It’s a disorientating space where the old is gone, and the new isn’t clear yet. It’s uncomfortable, and it’s the space where most of us either grow or get stuck.
Here’s where childhood gets tested
Every moment of disruption in childhood was, neurologically speaking, a training opportunity in cognitive flexibility.
The stuffed toy that got lost when you were three.
The ice cream shop no longer carrying your favorite flavor when you were eight.
Not making the varsity team in high school.
These weren’t just disappointments but moments when your brain was learning to handle the gap between what it expected and what it got. Either “This hurts, but I’ll be okay” or “This hurts, and I can’t handle it.”
Parents who sat with us named the disappointment without rushing past it and helped us find another way forward, helping our brains practice pivoting. We learned resilience.
Conversely, parents who dismissed (”It’s not a big deal”), punished (”Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about”), or were dysregulated taught us that disruption was dangerous and that unexpected change was a threat.
Fast-forward a few decades, and our adult brain still reacts to that same template wherever we go: the boardroom, the marriage, the toughest parenting moments. Something disproportionate rises up inside us. It’s the 8-year-old brain doing what it learned to do.
In adulthood, it sounds like:
“This always happens to me. Nothing ever works out.” (rumination and learned helplessnes | emotional self-pity)
“I should have known better. I always mess things up.” (internalized threat response | emotional shame)
“No one understands what I’m going through. I have to figure this out alone.” (social threat detection | emotional bitterness)
“They did this to me, and they don’t even care.” (attribution bias | emotional bitterness)
Micromanaging, over-planning, refusing to delegate, needing to know every detail (compensatory rigidity | emotional anxiety)
Recognizing our typical responses is the first step. But praise be to God, we don’t have to stay that way! Our brains can be reformed.
Growth Requires Cognitive Flexibility
Cognitive flexibility is built in the small moments.
The flat tire that rearranges our day.
The hotel construction that cancels our vacation.
The nap we hoped for until Mr. Chatterton sat next to us on the plane.
The grocery store being out of your favorite coconut milk yogurt!
Every time you pivot from “Everything is ruined” to “God may be doing something I cannot see yet” and every time you adjust and find new footing, you are literally reshaping the architecture of your brain (neuroplasticity) and growing in faith.
The alternative — chronic cognitive rigidity — is associated with higher rates of anxiety, depression, and relational conflict.
But there’s an exit ramp, and Scripture tells us how to take it
“See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?” (Isaiah 43:19)
“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” (Romans 12:2).
When we walk with God through hard times, it strengthens our relationship with Him and our faith in Him. (And sometimes comes with greater blessings!)
We can also see clear examples of how cognitive flexibility (or lack there of) faired for our Biblical forefathers and mothers.
Joseph.
Look at Joseph, who I doubt was thrilled about being thrown in a pit, robbed of his coat, and sold into slavery. Add in the false accusations of rape and managing a famine.
Joseph demonstrated one of the most researched regulation strategies in psychology: cognitive reappraisal. Rather than staying fixed on what the situation appeared to mean, he was able to hold it loosely enough to entertain an alternative interpretation.
Ruth.
Cognitive flexibility doesn’t always look like living out a vision or dream with certainty. Sometimes it looks like Ruth, taking one step into the unknown field, not because she knew what was coming, but because she was willing to find out. Look at what blessings she would have missed out on, had she not.
But there are also risks of cognitive rigitidy…
Consider the Israelites’ wandering in the Wilderness.
If not for Moses’s fortitude, I imagine the Israelites would have tried to swim back to Egypt. “Why did you bring us here? Wasn’t it better in Egypt?” They romanticized Egypt. It’s what psychologists call rosy retrospection. The brain edits painful memories and exaggerates familiar ones. Egypt suddenly seemed “better”. It wasn’t. It was simply known.
It’s how many of us return to unhealthy relationships, old habits, and comfortable sin because familiar pain feels safer than unfamiliar freedom.
The Scribes & Pharisees.
They were some of the most cognitively stuck-in-the-mud people in Scripture. But we have to admit that even on our best days, we fall into some of the same traps.
The Scriptures foretold Christ’s coming based on the accounts given by the prophets. But the interpretation of that Scripture led to a particularly rigid set of expectations.
Psychologists call this confirmation bias, the brain’s tendency to filter incoming information through existing beliefs, accepting what confirms them and dismissing what challenges them.
The same human wiring that caused the Pharisees to miss the Messiah standing in front of them can cause us to miss the mercy standing at the fork in our road leading toward what should have been Plan A all along.
Building Cognitive Flexibility: Notice It. Name It. Nurture It.
The same framework we use with children applies to us. Because the truth is that the child inside us is still being raised by God.
· Notice It ·
When a plan changes and something rises up inside you, pause long enough to notice it. Your shoulders tighten. Your mind starts rehearsing. You reach for your phone, or the pantry, or an argument. That awareness is the beginning of everything.
· Name It ·
Labeling emotions and thoughts reduces the amygdala’s response to them. Psychology calls it affect labeling. Scripture calls it wisdom (Proverbs 18:15)
So name what’s actually there. Not the story around it, just the emotion underneath it.
Is this disappointment? The gap between what you hoped for and what is.
Is this fear? The unknown ahead feels more threatening than the familiar behind.
Is this shame? Some part of you is making this change mean something about your worth.
Is this grief? Something real was lost, even if no one else can see it.
You don’t have to justify the size of the feeling. You just have to tell the truth about what it is.
· Nurture It ·
This is the step most of us skip. We notice, we name, and then we immediately try to problem-solve or spiritually bypass, jumping to “God’s got this” before we’ve actually sat with the person inside us who is scared.
Nurturing yourself through a plan change sounds like what that good caregiver would have said to you at eight years old. Empathy before instruction. Presence before perspective.
This is really disappointing. I know you were looking forward to it.
It makes sense that this feels like too much right now.
You don’t have to have the next step figured out yet.
God has not lost track of you in this.
And then, when you’re ready, not before, you ask the question my mother taught me to ask:
What if this is a divine interruption?
Cognitive flexibility isn’t just built through hardship. It’s also something we can practice. Some of the most effective practices don’t feel like therapy at all.
Puzzles and mystery. Escape rooms, mystery games, and logic puzzles all require the brain to hold multiple possible solutions simultaneously, abandon dead ends without frustration, and stay curious rather than certain. The practice of tolerating the unknown/not-known-yet is neurologically transferable to real life.
Perspective-taking exercises. Deliberately asking, “What might this look like from another angle?” is a fruitful practice. Whether in conflict, disappointment, or decision-making, it strengthens the same neural circuits used in cognitive flexibility. That is why empathy and adaptability are related skills. They share infrastructure.
Reappraisal journaling. Writing about a difficult event and asking, “What else might this mean?” or “What might I be grateful for in ten years that I can’t see yet?” activates the prefrontal cortex and begins to quiet the amygdala’s alarm. It doesn’t bypass the grief. It gives the brain a second track to run alongside it.
Divine Interruptions practice. When something disrupts your plan this week, pause before you react. Name it: This is a plan change. My brain is reading this as a threat. Then ask: What if this is an invitation? You don’t have to feel it yet. You just have to stay open long enough to ask.
