Pushed out of their comfort zone: Biblical lessons for reluctant career climbers

Noah, Jacob, and Moses were urged to step out of their comfort zones. What can we learn from their efforts?

As we restart the annual Torah-reading cycle, we are reintroduced to familiar biblical personalities. In this cycle, among many lessons, we may be surprised to learn how these personalities dealt with leaving their comfort zones, often at God’s behest. Indeed, confronting our comfort zones and how we do it is a key life challenge, especially in our working lives.

Career counselors love to tell people to try stepping out of their comfort zones. However, more often than not, we don’t initiate the move; it is imposed by others. A colleague falls ill the week before the annual presentation, and you are the one who must deliver it. A reorganization erases your department. A boss hands you an assignment you would never have volunteered for. Three biblical characters—Noah, Jacob, and Moses—faced just such predicaments, nudged (or shoved) out of familiar territory by circumstances they did not choose, and each reacted quite differently.

More than a century ago, psychologists Robert Yerkes and John Dodson found that a little stress improves performance, but only up to a point. Beyond that point, performance collapses. Popular models picture this as concentric circles: a comfort zone, a stretch (growth or learning) zone, and farther out, a panic zone, where progress stalls. The lesson is not that the farther out you venture, the better. The goal is to expand your zone, not to snap it.

Noah: when the stretch became too much

Noah seemed like the model employee. Told to build a vessel of unprecedented dimensions, fill it with animals, and keep the whole menagerie alive for a year, Noah complies, and the text records no hesitation or questions. Then the waters recede, and his assignment changes from managing a floating zoo to restarting civilization. At that point, the confident project manager seems to crack.

Two small hints in the text suggest this. First, God instructs Noah to leave the ark: “…you and your wife, your sons and your sons’ wives.” Instead, Noah exits with his sons, and the women follow separately (Gen. 8:16–18). Some commentators think this reflects his reluctance to bring more children into such an uncertain future. Second, Noah has to be told twice to “be fruitful and multiply” (Gen. 9:1 and 9:7). Rashi, the medieval commentator, explains that the first mention was said as a blessing, wishing him well, while the second was a commandment, perhaps because the blessing had not done the job. And what was one of Noah’s first recorded acts on dry land? He planted a vineyard and got drunk.

We can only speculate. Survivor’s syndrome, or even post-traumatic stress, is a reasonable guess. But perhaps Noah had reached the boundary of what he could handle. Building the ark was demanding, but it came with detailed instructions. Rebuilding civilization had no blueprint, no precedent, and no one to consult. A stretch assignment had become a panic-zone assignment.

Many of us have stood in Noah’s sandals. An overwhelming responsibility lands on our desk, and we freeze, procrastinate, or find our own version of the vineyard. A wiser approach may be to admit this is beyond anything you have done before, break it into smaller pieces, and ask for assistance, such as mentoring. Admitting a temporary lack of proficiency rarely damages your reputation, and it may strengthen your relationships with those who pitch in.

Jacob: negotiating the terms of departure

Jacob’s departure from home was not a matter of choice. He had just secured his father Isaac’s blessing through unconventional methods, prompting his brother Esau to seek retribution. ​His mother, Rebecca, urged him to flee to her brother Laban in Haran, and his father urged him to go there to find a wife. So Jacob went off, alone and anxious, with few resources and no idea what awaited him. On the first night, with a stone for a pillow, he dreams of a ladder with angels going up and down, and God, sensitive to Jacob’s needs, promises to protect him and bring him home.

Upon awakening, Jacob demonstrates a desire for a more explicit commitment, despite his initial encouragement. He articulates a vow resembling a job negotiation: If God will be with me, protect me on this journey, give me bread to eat and clothes to wear, and return me to my father’s house in peace, then the Lord will be my God (Gen. 28:20–21). Here, Jacob takes inventory of his basic needs: safety, food, clothing, and a way back home.

That is good career practice. Before accepting a position in a new city or a new field, ask yourself what you really need to function at your best. A minimum salary? A tolerable commute? A supportive boss? A way back if it does not work out? Writing down your essentials turns vague anxiety into questions you can actually ask and discuss.

Jacob reveals an additional insight when he wakes: “Truly the Lord is in this place, and I did not know it.” A homiletic reading rearranges these words, resulting in the following: not only did I not know God was here, I did not know myself. Leaving home turf reveals parts of us that routine kept comfortably hidden. Jacob was no match at first for the trickery of his father-in-law Laban, but he adapted, learned to hold his own, and eventually gained control of his destiny.

Moses: from excuses to eloquence

Moses was content shepherding his father-in-law’s sheep in Midian when he noticed a bush that was burning but not consumed. He was not looking for a career change, and he truly did not want this one: to confront Pharaoh and lead the Israelites out of Egypt.

His objections sounded perfectly logical. Who am I to do this? They won’t believe me. I am not a man of words. And finally, when all else failed: Please, send someone else. The psychologist Eric Berne, author of Games People Play, called this the “wooden leg” game, the excuse card we pull out whenever we want to avoid a challenge. (“What do you expect from someone with a wooden leg?”) I heard these frequently in job-search workshops: too old, too short, no computer skills, can’t get to work that early. However, Moses may have had more than excuses: the last time he left the palace to help his people, he ended up fleeing for his life. However, when God offered his brother Aaron as a spokesman, Moses finally gave in.

What followed was no easy journey, and Moses often stumbled. However, by the end of his career, most of the Book of Deuteronomy consists of his lengthy orations—in prose and poetry—to a nation about to enter its land, with no spokesperson in sight. We are left to wonder whether the “speech impediment” ever truly existed, or whether Moses met his shortcomings with persistence and just outgrew them. I suspect the latter. In his case, the man and the role grew together.​

Stretching with judgment

So, what can we take from these three towering figures? Noah, stretched too far, froze. Jacob, anxious about the unknown, took stock of what he needed and discovered something about himself in the process. Moses argued every way he could, then grew into a role he insisted was beyond him. Ask for help when the task is bigger than you are. Know your essentials before leaving familiar ground. Be sure to examine your “wooden leg” pretext honestly: is it a genuine limitation or an excuse you have outgrown?​

We conclude with a caution against taking all this too far. A colleague of mine was an outstanding manager of a municipal counseling agency. The national CEO, himself ambitious, wanted her to take the administrative reins of the head counseling office. She declined, explaining that she felt fulfilled in her current counseling role. ​The CEO could not fathom why anyone would turn down such a promotion. Nevertheless, she knew herself well and understood that leaving one’s comfort zone is not an end in itself. She had stretched her zone over many years and chose, deliberately, to remain where she was thriving. The key word is “choose.” Staying put can be wise when it is a decision, but it turns into stagnation when it is merely a default.