In the late nineteen-sixties, Carolyn Weisz, a four-year-old with long brown hair, was invited into a “game room” at the Bing Nursery School on the campus of Stanford University. The room was little more than a large closet, containing a desk and a chair. Carolyn was asked to sit down in the chair and pick a treat from a tray of marshmallows, cookies, and pretzel sticks. Carolyn chose the marshmallow. (Although she’s now forty-four, Carolyn still has a weakness for those air-puffed balls of corn syrup and gelatin. “I know I shouldn’t like them,” she says. “But they’re just so delicious!”) A researcher then made Carolyn an offer: she could either eat one marshmallow right away or, if she was willing to wait while he stepped out for a few minutes, she could have two marshmallows when he returned. He said that if she rang a bell on the desk while he was away he'd come running back, and she could eat one marshmallow but would forfeit the second. Then he left the room.
Although Carolyn has no direct memory of the experiment, and the scientists would not release any information about the subjects, she strongly suspects that she was able to delay gratification. Most of the children in the experiment struggled to resist the treat and held out for an average of less than three minutes.
Dr. Mischel’s conclusion, based on hundreds of hours of observation, was that the crucial skill needed to delay gratification was the “strategic allocation of attention.” Instead of getting obsessed with the marshmallow—the “hot stimulus”—the patient children distracted themselves by covering their eyes, pretending to play hide-and-seek underneath the desk, or singing songs from “Sesame Street.” Their desire wasn’t defeated—it was merely forgotten.
Dr. Mischel’s conclusion, based on hundreds of hours of observation, was that the crucial skill needed to delay gratification was the “strategic allocation of attention.” Instead of getting obsessed with the marshmallow—the “hot stimulus”—the patient children distracted themselves by covering their eyes, pretending to play hide-and-seek underneath the desk, or singing songs from “Sesame Street.” Their desire wasn’t defeated—it was merely forgotten.
Self-control is a fundamental character strength. It is also a gift from God offered to us as a fruit of the Spirit. This experiment highlights the fact that if we focus on Jesus instead of earthly desires, we too can delay gratification in search of heavenly treasures.
I pray that each of us will download the APP of Self-Control and “turn our eyes upon Jesus.” God bless you!
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