Legitimizers…

This is a chapter from my unpublished book, The Cowboy Way of Leadership. I would love to hear your reaction…

Number 57 was a crook horn cow owned by my Aunt Neta.  When we worked her cows, Number 57 always made her way to the front of the line.  She was an old cow who had been to the pens many times; she knew the way and the drill.  With her in the lead, the cowboy’s job was easy.  In fact, we had to play catch up.  More than once, Number 57 had the cows in the pens waiting for us!

One year, Number 57 was bitten by a rattlesnake and died.  The next time we worked cows at Aunt Neta’s, it was a disaster.  There was no one to show the way.

Most groups and most organizations have a “lead cow.”  We call them “Legitimizers.”  These are people who give guidance and permission to go in a specific direction.

John Maxwell tells a about a legitimizer named Claude.  Claude was a member of John’s first church.  He had been there long before John became pastor; he would be there long after John left.  John quickly learned that if he wanted something done, he needed to first suggest it to Claude.  If it was a good idea, Claude would take the lead.  If it was a bad idea (and every leader has some!), Claude would re-shape the idea to make it a good one, or help it die a quiet death.

Every leader depends on the legitmizers.  It may be an executive assistant who has been with the company before you were born but knows where all the bodies are buried.  It may be the “number two” man who has outlasted three “number one” men.  It may be a senior volunteer.  It may be the board member who gives the most money to your organization.  It may be your best customer.  They are out there, and they can make your leadership look brilliant or inept.  One good lead cow is worth about three cowboys!

Discovering Legitimizers

Most legitimizers are never titled that way.  You have to discover them.  Pay attention to who speaks and shuts off debate.  Listen to people talk about who is most admired in your company.  Watch the spheres of influence – who hangs out outside of your work; who gathers in the break room; which class socializes on a monthly basis. 

When I consult with organizations, my initial workshop always includes these questions:

1. “Who are the five most influential people in this organization?”

2. “Who are five people who think they are would be listed as influential, but aren’t on the list?”

I want to know who really influences the way people think.  I want to know who thinks they do, but really is an irritant.  This helps me not listen to the “squeakiest wheel” who turns everyone else off.  I learn to pay attention to people who have real influence.

Relating to Legitimizers

True legitimizers have an allegiance to the organization and its people.  If, as a leader, you have pure motives of wanting to help the organization and its people, you are on the same side as the legitimizers. 

Spend time with legitimizers.  Ask them what they like in the organization.  Ask them what they think needs to be changed.  Ask what they hope to see happen. 

Run ideas by them.  Ask them about positives and negatives.  If you don’t receive much input back, it’s probably a sign they have doubts and are not sure how you will receive the truth.  Mine for the truth!   My goal is to have a face-to-face conversation with every legitimizer in our church at least once a year. 

If a legitimizer has a crisis, I want to be present for them.  This is my way of demonstrating I care about them not just for what they can do for me or the organization; but for them as a person. 

When the Legitimizers say “No”

I’ve seen leaders get in trouble because they assumed anyone who disagreed with an idea was an enemy.  To disagree is not to oppose.

Our staff was trying to fix some issues with our Sunday morning schedule.  We brought our proposal to our legitmizers, who unanimously gave us a “thumbs down.”  Their rationale was it was too much change for too many people.

Some of the staff members had harsh reactions.  Time was needed to let things settle.  About three months later, we got major pushback on another, smaller initiative.  It turned out the church was unsettled and felt like the staff was pushing too hard.  The legitimizers knew what we didn’t. 

If a legitimizer says “no,” assume it is for a good reason.  Find out the reason!

One of the strangest things about legitimizers:  Sometimes they may say “no” but still give permission for you to do what you want.  Legitimizers can be thought of as “gatekeepers;” they may tell you are going in the wrong direction, but they still open the gate for you to go.  They may not support you, but as long as they don’t oppose you, you can make progress.

The Value of a Legitimizer

After I had been pastor for three years, our church voted to re-locate.  A friend told me that the only thing harder on a church than relocation was the discovery that the pastor was having a homosexual affair!  We succeeded, largely because a key legitimizer, Miss Jo, the matriarch of the church, decided relocating was the right decision.  When leaders of an opposition movement approached her about being part of a movement to buy the old building and start a new church.  She replied, “I’ve already paid for this old building once.  I’m not going to pay for it again!”  She persuaded other key legitimizers not to form an opposition movement, but to wait and see how things turned out.  They did wait, we gained momentum, and we gathered the support of almost all of the legitimizers over the next three years.

Before the move was completed, however, Miss Jo was killed in an accident.  It was a terrible blow to me personally – and to the church.  We lost one of our key legitimizers.  There was no one there to say, “I’ve been through this before.  It will be okay.  Just follow me.”

You may walk into an organization that has lost a key legitimizer.  Or your predecessor may have driven out previous legitimizers.  Or your headquarters may have shifted people around so quickly, no legitmizers can be found.  If you can’t find the legitimizer you need, the leaders have to do more careful work.  No one in the herd is helping you. 

In this case, you, as the leader, can draft some temporary people who have the potential to be legitimizers.  Give them a chance to have some influence.  Let them lead a group and get a win under their belt.  See if they can become the person others look to.  If they grow to that level, great.  If they don’t, seek out another person who might be a legitimizer.

I consulted with a church that had experienced rapid growth and had recently purchased a new building.  But the growth was slowing and giving was not keeping up with the need.  When I met with the church leaders, I discovered that two key legitimizers had stepped down because of health.  Another key legitimizer had been transferred.  When church leaders were asked to name the most influential people in the church, they could only name people on the church staff payroll.  There was no one left to help the church find its way and assure people things would be alright.

Jesus and Legitimizers

This worked a little different for Jesus.  He called His legitimizers “disciples.”  Their purpose?  They were witnesses to everything He had done.  They could say, “We saw this.  It happened.  You can trust us.”

When the Jesus movement started, these disciples spent time teaching people about Jesus.  As the movement spread, they were able to make decisions about expanding the movement beyond Jerusalem because Jesus had told them this was His intent.[i]  When conflict arose in the early church about whether non-Jews should follow the same rules as Jews, the disciples again acted as legitimizers and laid out both freedoms and expectations.[ii]

Did Jesus need them?  Probably not.  But He chose to work through human influencers.  They led the way into the pens.  They led the way to the future.

The Final Big thought:  One good lead cow equals three good cowboys.

[i] Acts 11:17-18

[ii] Acts 15:1-29

I Went to Church …

I went to Church last Sunday. 

Not surprising, you might think. After all, one of my jobs is serving as a full-time pastor. I go to church – a lot. I work at the church Monday through Thursday. About once a month, I also have to work on Friday or Saturday. Sunday is game day. I don’t have to be at church as early as some folks on our team, but I do have to preach three services. These are live-streamed out to our campuses and online. But Sunday mornings are also spent in conversations between services. I check in with people: “How’s your son doing with his cancer?”  I pray with people. I hear complaints about how cold the Worship Center is (I do not have access to the thermostat). One Sunday a month, I do a Q&A session for our new member’s class.  One Sunday a month, I have a Deacon’s meeting and a Direction Team meeting. Sundays are full days. 

But last Sunday, I went to Church. 

My wife was out of town for a conference. I didn’t have to preach Sunday. We were working cows at the ranch in Florida. So, I left town on Thursday and didn’t come back until Tuesday. I had unhurried time in my hometown, time enough to visit cousins, to clean out some drawers at the ranch house, and to ride through the pasture without someone saying, “Can we go back now? I’ve seen enough cows.”  For the record, you can never see enough cows. 

When Sunday morning came, I admit I was tempted to stay in bed. But I woke up at my usual time. I left the house to grab breakfast, then came back. Do you know how much time you have on Sunday when you are not preaching at 8:30 and 9:45? I got dressed and made my way to my home church.   

The old oaks still shade the trucks in the church parking lot, though the trucks are much more expensive than they used to be. I walked through the doors right at eleven. Standing in the small lobby (churches in town call them “vestibules”) were the deacons. The faces were different, but ever since I was a boy, the deacons of my home church have stood in the lobby as the service started. Years ago, one deacon confessed to me he served as a deacon so he wouldn’t have to be in the sanctuary for the singing. 

I slipped into the sanctuary and sat on the second-to-the-last pew, right in front of Mr. Wilbur. Wilbur will turn 90 soon; he has been at my home church my whole life. I worried about surprising him; you don’t want to shock 90-year-olds.   

The kids of the church were singing. If you are discouraged by the state of the world, go to a church service when the kids sing. Your soul will be lifted. We sang some new songs, then the old hymns of the faith.   

The preacher, who I have met a few times, preached a good message. He held my attention. Then, they served the Lord’s Supper, or Communion, as some folks call it. It hit me that it had been a long time since I was served the Lord’s Supper instead of officiating during the serving of the supper. Thirty years, in fact. It was good simply to sit and be served. Before we took the bread, the preacher said, “Jesus said, ‘Do this in remembrance.’”  And I remembered. 

I remembered the sacrifice of Jesus. But seated next to the stained-glass window given in memory of my father, I also remembered my brother, my sister, my mother, my stepfather, and my dad, all of them gone from this earth. They had sat in these same pews through the decades. My eyes got misty, and I felt their absence. I miss these people. 

The service ended, and I spoke to Mr. Wilbur. He is still alert, still standing tall. The wife of my cousin came up and talked to me for a while about health and grandchildren, and life. One of the high school girls I know said hi, then rushed up on stage to practice for next week’s youth service. I saw the Music Director and thanked him for a job well done. Before I knew it, I was the last one to leave. That was more like a typical Sunday for me.  

Going to church is a great privilege. Give church folks half a chance, and they will love you. If you listen and don’t criticize, you can get something out of most any sermon. And when the children sing, it will restore your soul.   

Church also gives you time to hear from God. He might remind you, as he reminded me, that I need to be thankful for a rich heritage, for a family that loved me, and for grace, the gentle grace of God that forgives my soul and invites me to follow Jesus.   

Go to church Sunday. It is good for your soul.

Convicted by My Own Sermon …

Like most preachers, I pray about what God wants me to preach. Long ago, I realized I didn’t have to do this on Saturday night before Sunday; I could pray months in advance, and God would lead me to a series of messages that stretched over six months.  

When I was planning my preaching for this spring, I felt oddly led to preach a series on the Biblical wisdom of money management.   Most preachers don’t like to preach on money; they feel awkward since their salaries are paid by the tithes and offerings from the church. God cured me of that when I pastored my third church, which struggled financially. I realized if I wanted to get paid, I better preach on generosity.   

This past Sunday, I taught the Biblical principles of borrowing money. The Bible actually says a great deal about this topic, more than I could cover in a 25 (okay, 35) minute message. But one teaching I wanted to bring out: If you borrow something, return it undamaged. If it is damaged, pay to fix it. Exodus 22:14 says: “If anyone borrows an animal from their neighbor and it is injured or dies while the owner is not present, they must make restitution.” 

I explained this message was drilled into me by my stepfather, Lawrence. I heard him say dozens of times: “If you borrow a man’s truck, fill it up with gas before you return it. If that truck breaks while you have it, you pay to fix it.”   

This made a lasting impression on me. First, it made me very reluctant to borrow anything for fear of tearing it up. Second, anytime I borrow a car, I fill it up before I return it. Third, when I tear up something I borrowed, I pay to have it fixed. 

A friend loaned me his car this week while my truck was being fixed. My morning unrolled so much smoother by having transportation. I was on my way to return the car when there was a whisper in my soul: “Remember your sermon from Sunday? How you always fill up the car when you return it?” 

It is amazing the deluge of thought that can run through your mind in two seconds. My first thought was, “But I have only driven three miles, tops.”  My second thought was, “If I stop and fill up, it will take ten minutes, and I need those ten minutes to get things done.”  My third thought was, “I’m pretty sure my friend didn’t hear that sermon. I can get away with this.” 

The fourth thought did not come from me, I’m sure. It was, “What’s up, Clay? Don’t you believe your own sermons?”  That thought hurt.   

There is an old-fashioned word we do not use much anymore: conviction. I heard it a lot when I was growing up. Preachers would talk about falling under the conviction of the Holy Spirit. It meant you would hear the Spirit speak to your heart about your sin. I’ve experienced this conviction many times in my life, especially when faced with the choice of doing something right or doing something easy.   

Did I mention all this ran through my mind in about two seconds? It was the Holy Spirit, reminding me of my own sermon, that convicted me. I put on my right turn signal, pulled into a gas station, and filled up the tank. It was the right thing to do. 

I deserve no praise for this. I’m embarrassed that this simple act is not yet automatic. I do think if you are a follower of Jesus, the goal is to be so immersed in him that your choices automatically are his choices. I have a long way to go. 

By listening to God, I was spared a day of regret (“I should have filled up that car”), shame (“I am a horrible person. I don’t even live what I preach”), and guilt (“I knew the right thing to do, and I didn’t do it because I was selfish”). Doing right feels better than doing wrong. 

Each of us, in our own way, preach our own sermons. We all have standards of right and wrong. Some of our standards align with God’s standards; others do not. The reason I know I am not good enough to get to heaven on my own is I cannot live up to my own standards of right and wrong. The Apostle Paul wrote a long time ago, “It is by grace you have been saved, and that not of yourselves, lest any man should boast.”   

Salvation is God’s gracious gift. Conviction is God’s gracious gift, too. It is God saying to me, and maybe to you, that listening to him is good for your soul.

Courage...

Politicians often declare themselves to be courageous leaders.  Saying you are courageous and being courageous are two different things.

I define courage as willingness to move toward the mess.  The courageous soldier runs toward the mess of battle; the courageous parent has the conversation with their drunk, underage son or daughter; the courageous business leader rejects profit for principle; and the courageous pastor leads a church to face the messiness of reality.

Courage is not picking an insignificant issue and making it a hill on which to die; courage keeps the main thing the main thing.  Courage is not overcoming fear; courage is moving toward your fear, recognizing a mess that must be confronted.  Courage is not following the cheers of the crowd; courage in action is often greeted with silence.

Courage means speaking the last ten percent.  How often do we stop just short of the plain truth that needs to be heard for fear of hurting people’s feelings?  Yet it is in the last ten percent that truth necessary for change emerges.

Why aren’t more people courageous?  We want people to like us, to approve of us.  To be courageous is to know disapproval will come.  If you lead, you cannot make everyone happy.  Courage means you must be dedicated to the mission.  You will incur losses, or as one leader called them, casualties. In church world, casualties are people who leave your church because they cannot accommodate the change required to fix the messiness.  If you are a leader who cares about people, it hurts to lose people you invest in and have done life with. 

Many leaders fear setting up a group who will fight and oppose them.  They believe if they appease instead of lead, these people will eventually drop their opposition.  This never happens.  Never.  When Churchill was in the darkest days of World War II, he faced opposition from members of his own party.  Churchill courageously stuck to his mission: defeat Nazi Germany in the face of internal opposition. 

Leaders face five common issues that require courage.  The first is the courage to address leaders or volunteers under them who are not performing, who are no longer effective, or who were bad hires.  Many leaders hope poor performers will improve over time.  They do not.  In my years of supervising and developing dozens of leaders, poor performers never get better on their own.  Often an employee is with an organization for years and has a constituency of his or her own.  You may need to build alliances and devise a strategy to help that person find a better setting to serve, but have the courage to move toward the messiness, not away from it.

The second common issue leaders face is to have the courage to define reality.  Many businesses and churches are in denial about their reality.  As Lyle Schaller famously said, many churches are perfectly positioned in the event time reverses and it becomes 1950 again.  I knew of one church that was frustrated by their inability to grow.  When I consulted with the pastor, I pointed out the obvious: They had a worship space for 400 and parking for 250.  Their average attendance was - you guessed it – 250.  Have the courage to define reality.

A third common issue leaders face is the courage to call for change.  Healthy organizations grow and change.  I do not run the family ranch the way my stepfather did.  In the twenty years since he ran things, the world changed.  We can’t just throw fertilizer and oil on the trees.  Now, we have to be much wiser about how to apply nutrients and sprays.  Leaders must have the courage to make the compelling case of why the organization can no longer stay where it is and must relocate to where it should be.

A fourth common issue that calls for courage is admitting your mistakes.  As Craig Groeschel says, “People would rather follow a leader who is always real, than a leader that is always right.”  Nobody gets it right all the time.  Be courageous enough to quickly own your mistakes.  Admit to your leadership you made a wrong hire.  Admit an initiative failed.  Admitting failure increases trust instead of diminishing it.

A final common issue that calls for courage is to hold to your mission, values, and vision when you are pressured to modify or abandon them.  People both inside and outside your organization will want to add to or take away from your mission.  It takes courage to face the opposition and say, “No.  We have agreed this is what we are committed to; this is what we value; this is our preferred vision of the future.”  Rick Warren said, “Never surrender your church to the whiners.”  I would modify that to say, “Never surrender your mission, values, and vision to someone else’s agenda.”

Without the courage of the leader, organizations do not thrive.  Maybe that is why God repeatedly says, “Do not be afraid and do not let your hearts be troubled.  Believe in me.”  Faith feeds courage.

Glad He is Gone …

When I was a pastor in Louisville, I stopped by the hospital to see Tom.  I heard he was not doing well.  I had been Tom’s pastor for three years at that point and knew him as a grumpy older man who had married a younger woman.  Though his children were in their twenties, he was over seventy.   

His youngest daughter was in the room when I entered.  I was told Tom’s health was failing, but it didn’t take a doctor to see Tom was not long for this world.  It was obvious Tom could not communicate, so I asked his daughter how he was.  She told me the nurse said he could die at any time.  I went to the other side of Tom’s bed so I could pray with him and took his hand.  It was already cold.  Tom was taking shallow breaths.  Then he stopped.  Unlike other people I had seen die, there was no space between breaths.  He just stopped breathing.   He had, as we say in the South, passed. 

His daughter on the other side of the bed looked at me, her face a question.  “Is he dead?” she asked.  I told her I thought so.  What shocked me was her response: “Good.”   

If you do what I do, being with grieving families is part of the job.  At the time, I had limited pastoral experience.  Most families weep, or they go into a state of shock when their loved ones pass.  My surprise must have been evident, for Tom’s daughter went on to say, “I am glad he is gone.  He did terrible things to my mother and to me.”  There were no tears for Tom’s daughter, just a hard expression as she looked at her dead father.  She told me in a no-nonsense voice, “You stay here.  I’ll get the nurse.  I do not ever want to be alone with him again.” 

The nurse came in and confirmed Tom had no pulse.  She wrote down the time of death, then asked us to step out of the room so she could clean him up.  Tom’s daughter said, “I will call Mama.  You stay here.”  It was strange to be taking orders from someone my own age, but she had steel in her voice.  Before the nurse finished, she came back and said, “I will tell the nurse which funeral home we will use, but I am not going back in that room with that man.” 

The nurse emerged, and Tom’s daughter gave her the necessary information and then left.  She did not tell me goodbye.  I stood there foolishly for a few minutes, wondering what had just happened, finally realizing I might as well leave too. 

Tom’s funeral was not the strangest funeral I’ve ever done, but it ranks in the top five.  When planning the service, the family shared no sentimental stories, no fond memories.  During the service, Tom’s wife and children shed not one tear.  By the time we got to the cemetery, I was ready to get this over with; apparently, so were they.  I read Psalm 23, spoke a few words about hope, and prayed.  When I said “Amen,” Tom’s family got up and made their way back to their cars, leaving friends and family behind.  Their every action and expression told me they were done with this man.

I stayed at that church for another two and a half years.  I tried to get Tom’s wife and daughter to open up about the pain Tom caused them, but they were not willing to crack that door.  For some folks, feelings are buried at the graveside. 

I thought about Tom off and on for years.  What could he have done that was so horrible?  Did he sexually abuse his daughter?  Did he beat his wife?  Was he condemning and judgmental, tearing down those closest to him?  What makes a man so angry at his own children that he would abuse them?  Why didn’t Tom’s wife leave him and take the children?

 Tom died over thirty years ago.  His funeral would not be the last I did where the family did not cry.  I stood by other caskets and read expressions of relief on the faces of spouses and children.  Their nightmares were over.

 When Tom died, I was the father of one.  Two more children would be born to me.  Tom’s funeral was a lesson for me.  I promised myself that I would do my best to never be the kind of Dad that my kids were happy to see die.

 When you think about it, maybe that was the one good that came from Tom’s death.  How sad.

Many Communicate, Few Connect…

“Many Communicate, Few Connect” is a takeoff from the title of a John Maxwell book.  It is a reminder to every leader that your job is not just to communicate; it is to make sure you connect.

There are two important dynamics to remember.  The first is based on the work of Paul Ricoeur.  In every communication event, there is:

The Communicator -> the Perceived Communicator -> The Perceived or Intended Receiver -> the Receiver. 

The communicator is who you really are.  The perceived communicator is who people perceive you to be.  As a preacher, I must remember every time I get up to speak, people have assumptions about who I am.  People with a limited church background often assume I will be hostile and angry because that is their perception of preachers. 

The perceived or intended receiver is the communicator’s assumption about his audience.  The preacher might assume that everyone in the congregation wants to know the meaning of the Greek.  The real receiver of the message might simply want the pastor or leader to get to the bottom line.

This first dynamic is real to me because communication is part of my role as the Lead Pastor of a church.  But every leader has to deal with this.  A CEO who perceives the employees of the company are eager to view a 15-minute video each week might be surprised that the real employees stop listening after 3 minutes. 

The second dynamic has been known since Aristotle.  Communication involves the head (information), the heart (emotion), and the feet (action).  Many leaders assume the communication problem in their organization is a lack of information.  In fact, people are drowning in information.  We notice that after two announcements in a worship service, people check out.  Information conveyed that is not received is not communication.  Andy Stanley provides a helpful guideline: Go for clarity, not comprehensiveness. 

Communication needs to touch the heart.  A few people are gifted to do this with magisterial language that is half prose and half poetry.  Winston Churchill and John F. Kennedy were masters of this form.  Churchill: “I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat…;” JFK: “Ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.”

The best way to touch the heart is through stories.  Ronald Reagan was perhaps the best presidential communicator after JFK.  He told stories that touched the heart.

One of our staff members regularly challenges me to make sure my sermons have a clear action item: “What are you asking them to do?  Pray? Give? Get involved? Ponder? Repent?”  I’ve sat through sermons that were Biblically sound, inspiring, but lacked a clear call to do something.

The best leaders communicate in a way to touch the head, the heart, and call people to action.  One CEO wrote a weekly email that had three bullet points of information (head), an inspirational story (heart), and a specific call to excellent customer service, such as “Make someone’s day today – smile (feet).”  It was widely read, as opposed to the CEO who wrote five prose paragraphs giving information.   That email often was not opened.

Remember, every leader communicates, but not every leader connects.  Be the leader that connects.

Lament...

It happened again. Just a few weeks ago, it was the school shooting in Nashville. I did not know anyone who was killed, but I knew people who knew people who were killed. That tragedy was mourned, then shelved to make room for the next hot news item. 

This time, the shooting was in Louisville. I lived in Louisville for twelve years. I worked for a time just down the street from where the shooting took place. I was a chaplain one summer in the trauma hospital where the surviving victims were taken. I met the wife of Thomas Elliott, one of those killed, a couple of times during my Louisville sojourn. Mass shootings do not feel distant to me any longer. 

It seems unreal to me that we have come to this. Death by gunfire has been part of American culture since Europeans landed on these shores. Mass killings before the 1920s were larger acts of violence committed by a parent against a family. In 1928, Leung Ying, using a lever action rifle and a hatchet, killed 11 people on a Fairfield, California ranch where he worked. Despite what you have seen in old Westerns, this seems to be the first mass murder against non-family members by an individual. 

A Harvard study found that between 1982 and 2011, a mass shooting occurred every 200 days. Now a mass shooting occurs every 64 days. The United States has more mass shootings than any country in the world. Is this the mark of a Christian nation? 

After every shooting, the needle seems to drop on the same old debate: One side screams, “The answer is to get rid of guns!”; the other side screams back, “We need more guns to protect us from gun violence.”  The truth is most people bent on evil can find the gun they need to make their evil a reality. 

One reason to read the entire Bible is to be reminded the Ancient World was a bloody and violent place. Kings went to war every spring to gain a fraction more territory. At any given moment, a raiding band might swoop in on your village and steal your crops, your gold, and your daughters. The guiding value of the Ancient World was “Might makes Right.” 

The people of God, Israel, experienced this time after time. They would turn away from God, decide in their own hearts what was right, and chase gods of power, prosperity, and sex. God would allow raiding bands to come in to rob them. He allowed foreign kings to oppress his people.   Once, when he had all he could take, God allowed his people to be conquered and put into exile for 70 years. 

It was during these days the people God learned to lament. Laments are prayers of frustration. The classic lament is Psalm 13. The first verse expresses the deep pain of people who feel like there is no answer: “How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?”  David says, “God, the only answer to this problem is you. So where are you?” 

Evangelical Christians struggle with lament. We sing, “Jesus is the answer for the world today…”  I believe that is true, but we forget Jesus will answer in his time, not ours. Sometimes all we can do is lament and cry, “How long, O Lord? How long will violence take our loved ones? How long must we suffer under a threat of gun violence? How long, O Lord, until you intervene?”

 To some, this may not feel like a prayer of faith. I believe this lament is a prayer of great faith. A lament brings all our frustration and anger about unsolvable problems and says, “Only you, Lord, can solve this. I do not know how. I do not know when. I can only trust in you. So I look to you not just for answers and action; I give you my feelings, my hurt, and my hope.”

 Can I say my African American brothers and sisters are better at lament than white evangelicals? Maybe their frustration at the unfairness of life and sinful culture is more recent than ours. Most people do not realize that Stephen Foster’s song, “My Old Kentucky Home,” was a lament of slave families being broken apart: husbands would be sold away from their wives; wives and children would be sold away from their husbands. The slave was helpless to determine his own fate. There is a part of the song that is seldom sung, but you can hear the pain in the words:  

A few more days for to tote the weary load,

No matter, ’twill never be light;

A few more days till we totter on the road,

Then my old Kentucky home, goodnight. 

I cannot change the law; I cannot intervene in mass shootings; I cannot force people to stop politicizing every issue. I cannot mandate the peace of Jesus to live in every heart. I can lament. I can go to God and cry, “How long, O Lord, how long?”  I can know he hears me. I can believe that one day, “Justice will roll down like the waters, and righteousness, like a mighty stream.”

One day.

The Day After the Big Day

Two of the organizations I am involved with recently had “Big Days,” even though the big days were very different.

At church the big day was Easter.  For most churches – the one I serve included – Easter is the highest attended Sunday of the year.  For that reason alone, it is a big day.  On Easter we do our best to bring our “A” game.  This Easter, to be honest, I think we did.  The worship music was great, the message seemed to connect, and we had many people show up after the service asking for prayer and seeking spiritual conversations.

I bet your organization has “Big Days” that are calendar events.  I recently consulted with an organization that derives 40% of its revenue from a week-long festival it sponsors.  That is not a “Big Day;” that’s a “Big Week!”  In processing this with them, they confessed that after their “Big Week” they were all exhausted.

I get that.  I take a nap every Easter afternoon.  But unlikely some churches I know, we do not give the whole staff the day off after Easter.  If you are in retail, don’t close the store the day after the big sale.  The Day after the “Big Day” is the day to follow up, evaluate, and plan for the next “Big Day.”

Maybe you can’t do all three the day after the “Big Day.”  But above all else, do the follow up. If you are a church, call every first-time guest who came Easter.  Write the thank you notes the day after the “Big Day” to the people who made it happen.  Celebrate with your team the wins.  Gather the stories that made the “Big Day” sparkle.

Don’t put off the evaluation.  Did you meet your goals?  Why or why not?  It surprises me that so many businesses rush head long into the next thing, they never evaluate.  Evaluation has a rapid expiration date.  The little details that make a difference fade quickly.  Be sure to write the details down. 

The best time to plan next year’s “Big Day” is within two weeks of this year’s “Big Day.”  The plan doesn’t have to be comprehensive but start while memories of what worked and what didn’t are fresh.  Don’t assume because something was good this year, it will be just as good next year.  Add value to the good things; kill what didn’t work.

The other organization that I serve is our family ranch.  We had a very different type of “Big Day.”  Ironically, on Easter week we got the report on our late oranges.  They were picked and we got paid.  I saw the data on how many boxes of fruit we picked, the sugar levels, and the price we got.  Thanks to a freeze last year and a hurricane, the crop was dismal.  This “Big Day” was a bitter disappointment.  I thought we would pick more fruit than last year, even with the natural disasters. 

When you face this kind of “Big Day” news, you have to ask, “What am I supposed to learn from this?”  What I learned was rehabilitating the ranch’s orange groves has not yet taken hold.  I learned other ranch enterprises will need to support the citrus operation for another year or two.  I learned the grove that looks terrible actually produces as much fruit as the grove that looks the best – go figure. 

Some “Big Days” are like that:  It is the day you learn where you are and where you need to go.

The “Big Day” really isn’t over until you have followed up.  Otherwise you miss half the value of the “Big Day.”

The Stonecutter...

It was a job that required a good eye, a strong back, and a firm grip. He was a stonecutter, one of about a hundred in and around Jerusalem. He learned the trade from his father, who learned the trade from his father before him. 

Being a stonecutter in Jerusalem meant steady work. There was a constant demand for tombs carved out of the hillsides. Being a devout Jew, the Stonecutter understood why Jews from all over the Roman Empire wanted to be buried in Jerusalem: it was their spiritual home. It was the promised place where the Messiah would return. If a Jew did not live to see the promise fulfilled, at least they could be close in death. 

The tombs were all pretty much alike. First, the Stonecutter would chisel a large opening, gradually opening it up into a small room. He would fashion a stone shelf a little longer than a man is tall. The shelf was for the recently deceased. The body would lay there until only the bones and the cloth were left. Beyond this small room, the Stonecutter would chisel another opening and clear out another room. This room would hold the ossuaries, the small boxes that held the bones of those who had decomposed. Their names would be inscribed on the boxes, a reminder of those who lived and died. 

The Stonecutter’s last work was to chisel out a channel for the doorway stone. Then he would bring in a large limestone slab, a tougher stone than the chalk of the hills, but still not too difficult to work with. He formed a flat stone, then with the help of his assistants, he placed it in the channel, made sure it fit snug, and rolled back and forth. Finished, he then demanded his final payment. 

He was almost finished with a tomb he was working on for Joseph, a wealthy Jew from out of town. It was Friday, just before the Passover Sabbath. He was hurrying to get done so he could get paid, pay his assistants, and get home before the Sabbath began. It had been a strange day. In the morning, between the blows of his hammer, he could hear a commotion in the city. About noon, the sky darkened, like a thousand thunderstorms were about to attack. He had just put the entrance stone in place when there was an earthquake. “A riot, darkness, and an earthquake all in one day,” he thought. “What’s going on?” 

He was sweeping out some of the pebbles when Joseph came up, almost out of breath. The Stonecutter smiled and said, “Hold on there, Joseph! You will be using this tomb too soon, running like that.”  Joseph didn’t smile, which was unusual. Instead, he said, “Is it ready?”  The Stonecutter shrugged, wondering at Joseph’s urgency. “It’s close,” he replied. “Good,” said Joseph, “I need it this afternoon. I’m going to bury Jesus, the rabbi, in it. They crucified him this afternoon.” 

The Stonecutter was shocked. He had heard of Jesus, of course, but he had never heard him. He had never even seen him. He knew Jesus had caused a commotion at the Temple Sunday past, but he didn’t pay much attention to such things. Some people said Jesus was the Messiah, but the Stonecutter dismissed that idea. Everyone knew the Messiah would come with an army, and the Stonecutter had seen no army. 

What surprised the Stonecutter most was Joseph using his new tomb for a crucified man. Usually, those crucified were peeled off their crosses and hauled to the dump. Their bodies were burned and left. Some rabbis taught if a crucified man lay in a tomb, it was unclean and thus unable to be used by anyone else. If that were true, Joseph would never use his brand-new tomb. 

He quickly snapped back to reality when Joseph pulled out his money bag. “Get it ready in an hour. I’ll pay you extra,” Joseph said. Joseph counted the agreed amount, then added enough extra to make it worth the Stonecutter to push himself and his assistants. 

The Stonecutter, finished with time to spare, paid off his crew. Then, his curiosity getting the best of him, he waited. Before long, Joseph and a member of the Jewish elite, Nicodemus, came with some other men carrying the body of Jesus. They gingerly brought his wrapped body through the outer opening and laid it on the shelf the Stonecutter had so recently carved. They came back out, looking bewildered and exhausted, like men who had completed an urgent task but weren’t quite sure what they had done. They beckoned to the Stonecutter, and together they rolled the stone across the entrance. Then each man went his way, making sure they were home by sundown. 

The next day, the Sabbath, was quiet. Then Sunday came, the first day of the week. The Stonecutter picked up his tools and headed back to the hillside to carve another tomb. A couple of men ran past him as he walked in the early dawn. He made his way through the gardens, and he thought he heard a woman crying. Probably someone who recently lost someone. He was halfway past Joseph’s tomb when he realized the stone was rolled back. “That’s strange,” he thought. Normally the tombs stayed closed for a few weeks before they were opened again. Something, he thought, must have come up.   

Not something. Someone. The Stonecutter’s work was where history changed, forever.

Trauma …

There was another school shooting, this one in Nashville, TN.  Three nine-year-olds and three adults are dead.  I watch the news reports and read the articles and ask, “How long, O Lord, how long?”  This was the lament of suffering people captured in Psalm 13.  How long, O Lord, until this violence stops? 

This shooting comes in the wake of three children and one adult being murdered two miles from my home last week.  How long, O Lord?  Every day the news brings me tragic stories: Forty are killed in a fire at a refugee center in Mexico.  A Russian missile slams into an apartment building in Ukraine; dozens die.  A college girl is raped. 

Some people feel the solution is to stop watching the news.  I understand that sentiment, but personally, I want to know what is happening in the world.  There is nothing fake about the news of death and violence. 

Edwin Friedman, a psychologist, observed that Americans have come to falsely believe that the world can be a safe place.  Maybe that is why we try to bubble wrap our children, to protect them from harm.  Precaution is not bad, but ultimately, as the parents in Nashville learned, you cannot protect your children from everything. 

The world has always been filled with violence and war.  Perhaps in old times, violence would come, and then there would be a long period of time to absorb the loss and process the grief.  Not now.  Traumatic events happen around the corner.  Cameras are everywhere to give a firsthand view of shootings and war.  In case we are not getting enough, cop shows invite us to imagine rape, murder, racial hatred, and torture.  Like Rascal Flatts, I miss Mayberry, sitting on the front porch, drinking ice-cold cherry coke, when everything was in black and white. 

Trauma, psychologists tell us, is a deep emotional response to violence and loss.  A wise counselor recently shared, “We live in a traumatized world.”  I have few memories of my mother crying.  Two stand out: When she found out her brother-in-law had been killed in an accident; and when she found out her uncle had also been killed in an accident.  Even as a child, I knew she was not just crying for her aunt and her sister; she was reliving her own shock of my father dying too young of a heart attack.  Trauma can be re-awakened by someone else’s pain. 

People respond to traumatic events in different ways.  Shock and anger are two go-to emotions.  All those angry posts you see on social media after a traumatic event are the result of trauma.   

People can disassociate.  Years ago, a woman came to me with a puzzling issue.  She would find herself driving down a road and have no idea how she got there.  I knew her issues were above my skill level, so I referred her to a counselor.  She later told me the counselor had helped her uncover trauma from childhood.  She had learned to disassociate to survive.  Now the memories were coming back, and her brain was responding in the way she knew best. 

Many of us, myself included, cope with trauma using denial.  I held the hands of people who were dying; I saw the bodies carried out of the house; I’ve had to run toward the fire and urge a dazed man to quit spraying water on natural gas tanks and run.  Mostly, I have experienced the trauma of people dying too soon, dying before I was ready to let them go.  My response is usually to kick into high gear, to over-function, to try to be everything to everyone, and then to crash with some bad habits a few weeks after the traumatic event.  That’s denial. 

Jesus lived in a traumatic world.  He had seen other men dying on crosses long before he was nailed to one.  He saw the trauma demon-possession inflicted on people.  In his small village of Nazareth, he would have known about the babies who died in childbirth, about the rapes of Jewish women by Roman soldiers, and about the violence of government suppression of protests.  

When Jesus said, “Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you.  I do not give to you as the world gives.  Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid,” he was not speaking of a world of daisies and flute music.  He spoke those words the night before his own death on a cross, where he experienced the greatest trauma of all.   

The great trauma of the cross was not the physical pain preachers like to emphasize.  The great trauma was bringing all the messiness of the world into his perfect soul.  He was filled with every traumatic event in human history, from the ancient wars to the rapes that happened on college campuses last night.  He brought all of this to himself, so the trauma inflicted by evil could be healed, so peace could reign. 

God has not chosen to stop traumatic events.  Instead, he has promised us a peace greater than our trauma, a peace that will drive out fear and anxiety, a peace that will bring us to him.  Bring your trauma to him.  Let his strong arms hold you.  Let his grace be sufficient. 

Tragedy…

This was not the column I planned to write this week. Tragedy interrupts lives, and this week, the madness of tragedy came to my town. 

According to news reports, Charles Slacks, recently divorced from his wife, came to her home Tuesday evening. He murdered Command Sergent Major Carlos Evans, who was talking to Slacks’ ex-wife in the backyard. He then proceeded towards the house, his ex-wife running after him. His ex-wife then realized she did not have her cell phone. She went back to Evans's body to look for his phone and call 911. She heard more gunshots. Slacks had murdered his two children and his stepdaughter in their beds. Then he turned the gun on himself and committed suicide.  

Police officers and first responders described the scene as the worst they had ever encountered. I can’t imagine the nightmares witnessing such a scene will create.   

One person shared with me she woke up at three in the morning, troubled by the shooting. Another person reported to me a sense of helplessness. What can you do for children who are already gone? How do you comfort a mother who losses her children at the hands of a man she loved at one time? 

There is no way to make sense of this. What madness would possess a man to kill his own children? How do you explain to children the empty desk in their classroom means their classmate will not be returning? When the neighbors look at the house on Whitetail Circle, how will they ever not think of that awful night when they heard the gunshots? No doubt many will ask, “Could this have been prevented? Why didn’t we see the signs? How can we help?” There are so many unanswered questions. 

When I face questions that have no answers, I start with what I do know. First, I know we cannot know all we want to know. This is true of every war, of every tragedy, of every unexplainable death. What do you do with unanswerable questions? I find it best to bring them to my Heavenly Father, confess my inability to know, and I leave the questions with him. Or I try to. Sometimes I find after I leave the questions with God, they sneak back into my soul. I must surrender them again. 

Second, I know this world is not safe, and I need to stop pretending it is. Because we live in a country that works to be safe, we can be surprised by this reality. Sin and free will combine to give people the opportunity to hurt and kill people, sometimes even people they love. We will never know exactly what when through Charles Slacks mind when he unlocked the door of his old home and went into the backyard. What I can tell you for certain is what God told Cain: “Anger is lurking at your door like a crouching lion…”  Neither Cain nor Charles locked that door. They both had the opportunity to not sin, but they let the lion in. 

No one has said it yet, but someone will ask, “Where was God?”  Why didn’t he stop this? It is the great question of the human race. Every world religion struggles to answer this. Every religion comes to the same conclusion: Some things about God are unknowable. Events happen that are unexplainable. We know this, but we do not like the tension it creates. To know that God knows and we do not know means we face a choice: we either trust ourselves or we trust our God. I do not say this lightly; trusting God when your heart is broken with great pain requires faith that goes right to our limit. 

So where was God Tuesday night? He was trying to get through to Charles, and Charles would not listen. He guarded that Mom who survived. He wept over Carlos. He welcomed the children to heaven. He stood by First Responders who were overwhelmed.   

I do not know how God deals with all the trauma of the world. He sees more in a day than we see in a lifetime. This is why I am glad he is an infinite God. I also remember to be thankful his love is vast; his grace is enough, even for tragedies like this. 

As this story unfolded, people were urged to hug their children tight. I wish someone would also say, “Work on your issues.”  Whether it is your marriage, your struggle with anger, or respecting boundaries, work on your issues. The temptation to be like Charles Slacks may be closer than you think. God will help you. 

I would add one more ancient word, sacred to many: “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; Thy rod and thy staff comfort me.”  Whenever tragedy comes, walk with God. When you try to walk alone, evil can overwhelm you. When you walk with God, there is comfort in knowing even if you do not know the answers; you are walking with the one who does.

It’s Such a Little Thing to Be Right…

My wise wife recently pointed out that I have a thing about being right.  I gave her a list of five reasons she was wrong.   I know this about myself, but I can’t stop. 

I think this goes back to school.  I was not athletic, so I prided myself on being smart.  I wanted to be known for something, so I worked hard to be the kid who knew the answers.  This strategy worked pretty well until I met Algebra.  When I met x, and y, my thought was, “Why is this important?”  I was told it would help me think critically.  It did; I was very critical of higher math and my math teachers. 

It was about this time in High School that I learned I could not be smart about everything.  History and English came naturally to me.  I sought to know as much as I could about these subjects.   

When I went to college and majored in Religion, I was right more often than not, having been at Sunday School my entire life.  Once, I had to take a doctoral-level seminar at Indiana University.  The professor came in on the first day and explained to doctoral-level students that the Bible was divided into books, the books were divided into chapters, and the chapters were divided into verses.  I knew this from what we used to call “Sword Drills” back in third-grade Sunday School.  I made an “A” in that seminar. 

It was odd that the more I learned, the more there was to know.  My field of knowing everything shrank.  By the time I finished my Ph.D., I was an expert on three chapters of the Bible.  It was a lot of school to be the luminary on ninety-one verses. 

I found what worked in school did not work in every area of life.  My mother once told me, “No one likes a know-it-all.”  That explained my lack of dates during certain times of my life.  Insisting on being the expert with my friends meant I drove some of them off.  It is hard to build intimacy when you must prove you know everything.  In one evaluation, I had said, “Pastor, please try harder to be humble.”   

I like to be right because deep down, I am afraid people will reject me if they find out I don’t know.  It turns out people will also reject you if you have to prove how right you are.  

Being right is a way to justify my behavior: “It’s okay for me to act this way because I am so wounded.  I am the victim.”  Being right is a defensive mechanism that keeps us from facing the truth about ourselves. 

I am slowly learning that being right, defending myself, does not bring the people I care about most closer to me.  To paraphrase Craig Groschel, people would rather be friends with someone who is real than someone who is right.  The truth is no one can be right all the time.  Most of us do well to be right over half the time. 

I think about all the damage I have done in the name of being right.  I have gotten my family lost for over an hour because I refused to stop for directions.  I have grown an unhealthy pride that makes me reluctant to hear the ugly truth.  I have damaged my health because I insist on discounting what doctors tell me.   

Do not misunderstand me.  It is important to be right about important things.  Your relationship with God is important.  What you believe about God, about your relationship with God, really matters.   

But is some of what I believe really that important?  Sometimes I listen to the lyrics of hymns and songs and think, “That’s not right.”  Then I get a gentle nudge from the Holy Spirit, saying, “Does it really matter?”   

I wish I was farther along in knowing how to sort out the important from the unimportant.  I hope I have made progress in keeping my mouth shut and not having the last word. 

I think what a better world it would be, what a better nation we would have, if people could simply say, “Well, we see things differently,” and then stop talking.  I might tune in to a candidate debate if they talked like that. 

Jesus very pointedly said, “It is better to tie a millstone around your neck and throw yourself into the sea than to cause one of these little ones to stumble.”  Causing people to stumble by insisting you are right about unimportant stuff must be a big deal to Jesus.   

I think this is why the ancient prophet Micah said, “He has shown you, O man, what is required:  To do justice, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God.”  Humility means it is such a little thing to be right.  You trust God with that.

The Playground…

We took my grandson to the playground not too long ago. Because of my recent surgery, I could not chase him around the playground. His parents would do the chasing; I did the watching. 

If you are depressed, I recommend you visit a playground on a Saturday morning. It is hard to believe children can have that much energy on the weekend. They were climbing on, over, and under all the playground equipment while their parents sipped at their Starbucks. There was laughter and cries of “Mama, watch this!”  The kids took turns; there was no shoving or pushing other kids out of the way. One little boy fell down; an older girl stopped her play to help him up. 

One set of grandparents chased a little girl around for an hour. They looked tired. The little girl did not. She ran from slide to slide, from climbing rope to ladders. Another couple, who I judged to be older parents, pursued their two little girls. One was the tomboy; the older daughter wore a dress but soon put away her ladylike behavior to run after her sister. 

I’ve always admired the way kids can make friends so fast. “You want to swing? I want to swing too! Let’s be friends.”  There was no inquiry about which church they went to or who they voted for. It was just, “Let’s be friends.”   

Two or three kids simply played in the wood chips. They seemed fascinated by the sticks and leaves. Where I saw something that needed to be raked, they saw objects of awe. Another little boy hung on the fence that enclosed the dog park. No climbing or running for him; he was taking in all the dogs playing and chasing tennis balls. His Dad stood behind him, just looking at his son, enjoying his canine fascination. 

Sometimes the kids would wear out for a minute. They would amble over to Mom, get a snack or a drink from a backpack, and then bound off again. One girl took her Cheetos bag up to the highest spot on the slide and then proceeded to polish off the bag. I’m not sure if the height enhanced the taste or if she was protecting her treasure from her siblings. 

None of the kids seemed worried about the economy, the war in Ukraine, or the increasing military might of China. Those worries were left to the adults. The kids ran from place to place, doing whatever caught their fancy. 

In the midst of all this was my grandson, the most adorable of all the kids (naturally). I could not help but grin at him. It was amazing to see him figure things out, which muscles to move to get where he needed to go. He is the most amazing child. I think I smiled for a solid hour, just looking at him and taking in all the scenes around him. 

I am often asked what heaven is like. Some people imagine it as a big family reunion. The Bible does not describe it that way. The main event of heaven is not reuniting with your loved ones; it is meeting Jesus. In heaven, we will finally understand the depth of his love and the full extent of his grace. That is why we will praise him. 

Heaven is also not full of leisure activities. We will not spend our time golfing or fishing. We will spend time marveling at how good our Heavenly Father is.   

But as I surveyed the playground, I wondered if heaven might be a little like the playground. Maybe we will experience an indescribable joy of being secure, of being safe, of knowing our Heavenly Father has taken care of all our anxieties and has defeated our greatest enemies. Maybe our Heavenly Father will watch his children play while he smiles upon them, simply delighting in them.   

Jesus said unless we become like little children, we cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Scholars speculate about what Jesus meant, but I don’t think they were at a playground when they wrote their commentaries. Perhaps Jesus meant to tell us we need to learn to accept our Heavenly Father’s love and forgiveness and discover how much our Heavenly Father smiles as he watches us.   

I think the children have something to teach us: live life in the security of your Heavenly Father, for he delights in you. Maybe you should visit a playground and imagine how God adores you like a grandfather adores his grandson.

Unequal Relationships

“Your relationship with another person is not the same relationship he or she has with you.”  I heard Andy Stanley say this in his recent message series, “The Weight of Your Words.”  I wish had heard it decades earlier.  It explains so much of my life, my frustrations in friendships, and my frustrations as a leader.

The truth of Andy’s statement is obvious when we think about our relationships with our parents and with our children.  These are not relationships of equals.  Most of us start our marriages by believing we can be equal partners.  The truth is I don’t want my wife to be my husband and she certainly doesn’t want me to be her wife.  We try to keep power dynamics out of our marriage, but we have a different relationship to each other.

I have been in several relationship triads.  Three of us were close friends, but there are times when I felt like the third wheel. Our relationships were not the same.  The other two in the triad had been friends longer and had more shared experiences; I was the newcomer they let in, but was always having to hear about experiences they had before I knew them.

In the first church I served that had staff, I thought we were a team and I would be first among equals.  It took me about fifteen years to learn that would never be the case.  As the pastor, I was the leader.  I often felt left out of the social moments on staff retreats.  I would walk into a room for a meeting and the laughter would stop.  I was not one of the guys.

I made the dynamic worse by trying to be “one of the guys.”  I would cut up and joke, and then get mad when everyone wanted to keep joking around and I was ready to be serious.  That was my fault. I didn’t help matters by getting mad when the staff didn’t respond to my agenda swings.

Our executive pastor reminds me my words weigh more than anyone else’s on the team.  I might make a sarcastic comment in some attempt to be funny, not realizing I just wounded someone.  A flippant idea might be taken seriously when I meant for people to simply think about this as a possibility and report back if it feasible. 

I often see this with Student Pastors.  They want to be “Buddies” with the kids they lead.  If a person takes this approach, they will fail.  Students need leadership.  Yes, you have relate to the kids, but kids can sniff out a phony faster than a pig can find a strawberry.  A student pastor’s relationship with his or her students is not the same as their relationship with him.

Edwin Friedman reminds leaders they are different than the people they lead.  He calls this “the self-differentiated leader.”  You do not depend on others for your sense of self.  You cannot expect others to understand what it is truly like to sit in your chair.

Jesus understood this.  When James and John asked to sit at his right and his left when he came into his Kingdom, Jesus responded, “You do not know what you are asking.  Can you drink from the cup I am about to drink from.”  They responded, “We can.”  Jesus, maybe with a smile on his face, said, “You will, but to be seated at my right and my left is for my Father to decide.”  I think that was Jesus’ way of saying, “ You will experience the thrill and pain of leadership, and it won’t be like you think.”

If you are a leader, own it.  Your relationship with the people you lead is not the relationship they have with you.

When You're Flooded...

It was one of those uncomfortable moments in the store.  A young mother with three small children was trying to get her shopping done.  The middle child by size (about two, I’d say) was not happy.  She was ready to go home.  I understand that feeling.  After about thirty minutes in a store, I’m ready to go home, too. 

Two-year-olds have surprisingly big voices in little bodies.  This little girl started to tear up and scream, “I want to go home!  I want to go home!”  Everyone in the store heard her.  Everyone within a ten-mile radius heard her.  Everyone knew she wanted to go home. 

Her mother tried all the standard techniques: “Shhh!  Be quiet.  We will go home in a few minutes;” “If you stop crying, I will buy you some candy (that would work for me);” and, as the mom felt the stares, “Will you stop crying!” 

None of the strategies worked.  The little girl upped her decibels.  Dogs began to howl outside the store.  I think I saw a jar of pickles start to vibrate.  More people were coming around the corner in search of this child in distress. 

The young mom had reached her limit.  She pulled out the nuclear option phrase: “If you don’t stop crying this instant, I will give you something to cry about.”   

The two-year-old looked at her mother with non-comprehending eyes.  You could read her thoughts on her furrowed forehead: “I already have something to cry about!  That’s why I’m crying.  What part of ‘I want to go home, Momma’ do you not understand?”   

My heart went out to the little girl and to her overwhelmed Mom.  How do you reason with a two-year-old whose emotions have torn her away from whatever reasoning ability she has? 

I have lived those intense moments of emotion when my soul was flooded, and reason left me.  I have felt the loss of someone I love so deeply that it seems all I can do is weep.  I have been filled with anger and said words that are mean, and I meant them, yet I didn’t mean them.  I have been so afraid I was paralyzed, not knowing what to do or say.  But sadness and grief is the emotion that floods my soul the most. 

Jesus once encountered people who were weeping because their friend Lazarus had died.  Jesus, who could have healed him, hadn’t come in time.  Now Jesus was on the scene.  He could feel the accusing eyes and read their message: “He was your friend.  Where were you?  You could have done something.  You could have healed him.”  Jesus does not tell them, “Don’t cry.”  He does not tell them he will give them something to cry about.  Instead, he joins their grief.  In the shortest verse in the Bible, we told one of its great truths: “Jesus wept.”   

This is the grace of God: he weeps with us.  Jesus understands the moments in your life when you are overwhelmed with emotion.  Jesus, with infinite patience, stops to feel with you.  He shares your tears.  But he also will share your joys, your anger, your anxiety.  To your joy, he brings song; to your anger, perspective; to your anxiety, peace.   

The theological word for this is “Incarnation.”  It means God dwells with us; he has taken on flesh.  God so loved the world that he became one of us so we could know that he knows us. 

I give the young mom credit.  Realizing what she said and how it sounded, she stopped her shopping, picked up the two-year-old out of the buggy, and held her while she cried.  She let her daughter cry out her frustration.  Then she tickled her and made her laugh. 

I think that is what Jesus does.  He holds us when we are flooded with emotion.  He cries when we cry.  Then, when we least expect it, he brings something good; he brings joy.  Jesus is the God of the morning when night turns to joy.  Whatever your tears, he will hold you.  And joy will come.

Leadership Lessons from the Surgery…

I had knee surgery two weeks ago.  I’m progressing well, thanks to a good surgeon and good physical therapists. 

I’ve thought about my orthopedic surgeon and what he taught me about time management.  Prior to my surgery, I was given a list of instructions and what I needed to take care of prior to surgery.  During my pre-surgery visit, the surgeon sat down and explained what the surgery would entail, what recovery would like, and answered my questions.  He was giving information that only he could give.

The day of my surgery, I met with the usual round of nurses, anesthesiologists, and aides.  Then my surgeon came in, spoke words of encouragement, marked which knee would be replaced, and prayed with me (a very kind gesture).  Then I was wheeled into the operating room.  One man was mopping the floor, which I was glad to see!  Nothing discourages you like the bone fragments from the last surgery.  The nurse was getting me up on the operating table, the anesthesiologist was giving me my spinal block, and then… I don’t remember a thing until I woke up in the recovery room.  I was glad the spinal tap worked!

The recovery room nurse’s job was to tell me to move my toes.  It’s a weird feeling to have toes, to see them, and not be able to move them.  Eventually I was able to wiggle them and get up to my room.

So what Leadership Lessons did I learn?  First, good leaders prepare people for what they will face.  No one likes surprises.  People are more likely to trust a leader who tells them what’s ahead.  Even more, good leaders assure people they have been through this before.  I could tell this was not the first rodeo for my team.

What if it is your first rodeo?  That’s when you “rent” an expert.  When our church decided to relocate, I was 38 years old and had never been through anything like a complete relocation.  But a relocation consultant was recommended to me.  He had consulted with 30 churches about relocation.  He came in for a weekend, then stayed with us through the design and move in stages.  People trusted his experience and in time, came to trust me.

Second, a good leader has a good team.  While the surgeon was important, so was the transport guy, the shave guy (don’t ask), the guy mopping the operating room floor, and all the rest.  Imagine if the surgeon had to do all these things!  A good leader makes sure his team knows their role, trains them in their role, and then gives them room to do their jobs.  The surgeon was not checking behind the team; he trusted them to do their jobs and they honored his trust.

Finally, I admired my surgeon’s time management.  He was focused on doing what he did best.  What he did best was surgery (and I was glad).  It made me rethink my schedule.  What am I doing out of guilt?  What am I doing that someone else could do better?  Where can I add the most value to our church? 

Every leader needs a “stop doing” list.  You may not be able to stop doing everything at once, but you need to have goals of what to stop doing and a timeline to shoot for.

My main leadership lessons from my surgery?  A good leader prepares people for what is coming; a good leader develops and is part of a good team; and a good leader focuses on doing what only he or she can do!

The Knee Evangelist...

I had a total knee replacement a couple of weeks ago.  It was not a surprise.  I had a meniscus repair three years ago, and they told me then I was just buying time.  A wise friend told me when I stopped doing things I enjoyed doing because my knee hurt, it was time to have the knee replaced.  The surgeon did a great job, the physical therapists have been great, and my recovery seems to be going well. 

In the meantime, I have turned into a knee evangelist.  I mean, I am talking a lot about my knee.  In my limited getting out, I am walking with a cane, mostly in fear that one of my physical therapists will see me without it and rain down curses upon me.  When you walk with a cane, everyone feels free to comment.  I’ve gotten everything from “Did your wife kick you?” (to which I wanted to respond, “No, did yours?”), to “Are you in terrible pain?” (If I am not screaming, the pain is tolerable). 

One man stopped me and asked where I put the oil in for my new knee.  I told him it was factory sealed.  A woman looked at my leg and then proceeded to tell me how terrible her second cousin’s wife’s surgery went when she had her knee replaced.  Why is it people want to tell you stories about other people’s surgery? 

A couple of people have bent down to look at my scar.  I wanted to tell them to open wide so I could look at their teeth.  I have new empathy for pregnant women who suddenly find their swollen abdomen community property.   

One encounter, however, stands out.  We were out to eat ( a cherished escape from the house) and were leaving our table.  An older lady stopped me and asked if I had a knee replacement.  Sensing she was genuinely curious, I told her yes.  She then told me her doctor wanted her to have both knees replaced, but she was scared.  Without me prompting her, she told me she was scared of the pain of the surgery, scared of the pain of physical therapy, and scared she would be worse off than before.  She shared she had just about decided to live with the pain of what she had rather than risk the pain of knee replacement. 

It surprises people that, by nature, I am an introvert.  This time, however, the words poured out of me to this stranger.  I told her I was completely out during the surgery and that the worst part was getting the spinal block.  “Oh,” she said, “You are just a big baby.  I had those when my children were born, and they were nothing.”  I replied, “Well, it was something for me!” 

I told her about my post-operative pain and how it was controlled; how the pain from physical therapy was not overwhelming at all; how the worst part was sleeping at night because I woke up so often from moving in the bed.  She said, “You didn’t get up very much with your babies, did you?”  I looked a little sheepish and admitted my wife did most of the getting up. 

I told her about looking forward to getting on the floor again with my grandson, walking with my wife, and being able to work outside without wearing out.  I could see the dreamy look in her eyes when I told her about all I wanted to do as my new knee was integrated into my body. 

As I talked, I felt like I was delivering a sermon for knees: “Come and be restored so your knee can bend!”  As our conversation drew to a close, she said, “You know, after talking to you, I believe I am going to have a talk with my doctor about this surgery.”  I wished her well and made my way out to the car. 

I thought about our brief encounter.  This woman was controlled by her fears.  She was holding onto her old pain, afraid something new would be worse.  She needed to hear the story of someone who had been through what she had been through, came out the other side and was finding life better.  She needed a knee evangelist. 

I wonder how many people let their fear keep them from coming to Jesus.  Do they hold onto their pain, their addiction, because they cannot fathom what a new life with Jesus would be like?  Do they need someone who has been through it to share his or her story, that the change is worth it? 

Ezekiel spoke for the Lord and said this: “I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will remove your heart of stone and give you a heart of flesh...”  Everyone you see needs a heart replacement.  Your story might give them the courage to ask God to make the great exchange.  If telling a story about a knee replacement can give a stranger courage, imagine telling the story of how Jesus changed your life could give someone the courage to let Jesus change their life.

The Asbury Revival…

The big news in the Evangelical world lately has been the Asbury Revival, which is occurring on the campus of Asbury University in the town of Wilmore, Kentucky.

A normal chapel service has turned into an ongoing time of praise, testimony, confession of sin, and deep awareness of the Holy Spirit.  People are being drawn from across the country to visit Asbury and experience this revival themselves.  This is not the first time such a revival has occurred at Asbury; a similar movement of God occurred in the 1970’s.   

Cynics have quickly taken to social media to declare the revival is nothing but a pile of manufactured emotion.  Others question the theological correctness of what is occurring.  Surprisingly, most of these critics are not from outside the faith but are from people who call themselves followers of Jesus.  The Jesus movement excels at “friendly fire.”  We often attack those we disagree with so we can feel more righteous than others.  It is the same attitude of the Pharisees, who were very proud of their humility. 

I only know what I read, and from the sound of things, God has chosen to move in an extraordinary way, at a specific time, in a specific way.  No one is profiting, and no one is getting famous.  One report I read described a well-known Christian singer contacting the university and offering to come and lead worship.  He was politely told he was welcome to come and participate, but the student-led worship team would be leading worship as they had throughout the revival.  I like that spirit. 

I am old enough to remember when most churches held two revivals a year.  For us, one was in late spring, the other in early fall.  Revivals were two weeks long and often had a morning and evening meeting time.  People would be urged to come and hear the visiting “Preacher.”  There were hopes and prayers that people who were far from God would profess their faith, that alcoholics would give up the drink, and that the church would be stirred to action.  Sometimes, those things actually happened.  I remember an alcoholic being saved one evening.  He did stop drinking, started studying his Bible, and became a bi-vocational pastor.  His other job was running a garbage company, and I remember him saying pastoring and being a garbage man wasn’t that different. 

Times changed.  Revivals went from two weeks to one week, then to four days, then to one day “Special Speaker” events.  It seemed like we didn’t have time to show up every night at church for a week to see what God might do; we might miss “All in the Family” on TV.  Maybe we were less comfortable with the unpredictable.  We still wanted God to move, but we humbly requested that he move during the allotted worship hour.  An Assembly of God pastor friend challenged me with this question: “Would you be willing to scrap your worship plan if the Holy Spirit began to move in a service?”  It is the kind of question that you know what the answer should be, but if you are honest, you must admit you fear the possibility of God showing up in the middle of one of your services.  Maybe that’s why Andy Stanley says, “The reason people don’t go to church anymore is because they have been.” 

I think those revivals of old were about making space for God to move.  You carved time out of life to put yourself in an environment so God could speak to you.  I think back to services where God moved, and it wasn’t that the music or the preaching was so great.  God moved because he chose to move and because there was space in hearts to hear him.  This sounds like what is happening at the Asbury Revival. 

Have you created space in your life to hear from God?  Do you really want to hear him?  I think this is the challenge the Asbury Revival brings to all of us.  Is our prayer, “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening?”

To the critics of the Asbury Revival, I want to say, “Stop it.”  Just stop it.  Nowhere in scripture does Jesus say, “Blessed are the nitpickers, for their correctness will draw people to me.”  Instead, read this story in Mark 9: “Teacher,” said John, “we saw someone driving out demons in your name, and we told him to stop because he was not one of us.”

 “Do not stop him,” Jesus said. “For no one who does a miracle in my name can in the next moment say anything bad about me, for whoever is not against us is for us. Truly I tell you, anyone who gives you a cup of water in my name because you belong to the Messiah will certainly not lose their reward.”

How about we agree to listen to Jesus and follow him, and seek God in our own walk?  Maybe then, the presence of God will fall on us as well.

The Spy Balloon…

A Chinese spy balloon has overflown the United States until it was finally shot down by US Air Force F-22  near Myrtle Beach, SC.  The balloon traversed the United States, overflying some sensitive military installations, including the Air Force Base near my home.  Authorities believe the purpose of the spy balloon was not so much to take pictures but to eavesdrop on sensitive military communications. 

Understanding how such balloons work is far above my pay grade.  However, if the balloon did take pictures while overflying my house, it would have seen sensitive objects I would prefer the world not know, such as the kayak I borrowed from a friend last October, the trimmings from bushes I cut back that I have not yet picked up, and weeds growing out of last year’s garden. 

Several of my friends offered to shoot the balloon down in service to our government.  One was trying to figure out the ballistics of shooting down a balloon with a .50 caliber magnum rifle.  I told him I didn’t think the bullet would reach 66,000 feet.  He replied it would be no problem; he had a buddy who had a Cessna who would take him up to get a better shot.  Rednecks with guns and planes are a dangerous combination. 

The politicians, of course, quickly pounced on the issue.  Those jockeying to run for President quickly said they would have ordered the balloon shot down as soon as it entered US air space.  Keep in mind the balloon was the size of three buses.  If it came down on an interstate highway, imagine the chaos.  The Pentagon leaked that other balloons have been released and have flown over the United States.  Maybe Carl Fredericksen from the Disney movie “UP” had a few escape. 

Spying is nothing new, of course.  President Eisenhower ordered spy balloons to be sent over the old Soviet Union disguised as weather balloons.  The U-2 spy planes regularly overflew the Soviet Union until one was shot down in 1960.  Satellites largely ended the need to fly over enemy territory to gather intelligence.  I’m sure the Chinese have their own reasons why they thought they could send a balloon over the United States, knowing we would notice. 

There are a few stories about spies in the Bible.  Moses sent spies into the Promised Land.  They brought back a report that the land was fabulous, but the people of the land were strong.  The people of Israel chickened out and demanded to go back to Egypt.  The data you develop from spying can psych you out. 

Later, Joshua sends two spies into the city of Jericho.  Word gets out, and they hide in Rahab’s house.  Let’s just say a lot of men went to Rahab’s house because she managed a late evening business.  The spies made a deal with her; she and her family were spared when Jericho was destroyed.  Rahab winds up marrying an Israelite, and later, one of her great, great, great-grandchildren winds up being King David.  This might have been a case of “The Spy Who Loved Me.”        

When David’s son Absalom rebels against him, David sent back Zadok, the priest, and his sons to spy on Absalom and send messages back to him.  He planted Hushai as a spy in Absalom’s court.  Espionage is a very old art. 

God needs no spies.  We are told in Proverbs 15:3: “The eyes of the Lord are everywhere,  keeping watch on the wicked and the good.”   God knows what the Chinese are up to; he decodes the codes faster than they can be coded; the secrets nations try to hide are plain to him.  I am not sure if God has a brain, but if he did, can you imagine how amazing his brain would be?

 Perhaps more frightening is Hebrews 4:13: “And no creature is hidden from his sight, but all are naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must give account.”  God knows what you look like naked, and it does not scare him.   

When I was growing up, my mother tried to frighten me with the thought that God sees everything I do, so I had better behave.  I admit I was scared for a while; however, the power of temptation can make you forget good theology.  As I grew older, I realized God knowing everything was a good thing.  It means God can prepare me for what is ahead; he knows my weakness and strengthens me, and because he knows what is happening in the world, he can intervene on my behalf in events half a world away.  God’s knowledge is one more reason I can trust him. 

Theologians call this God’s omniscience.   To me, it is a reminder I am not doing my life alone, and that my Heavenly Father has a deep and personal knowledge of me and the world I live in.  My life is best when I trust his knowledge and lean not on my own understanding.  My God does not need a spy balloon to know what is going on.

Pacing

We were working cows at the ranch last week.  The cows are penned, sorted, doctored, and then turned out.  I have seen this ballet of work a hundred times in my life, but it never grows old.

When we turn the cows out, one man cracks open the gate just wide enough for a cow to go through.  Another man, either or horseback or on foot, stands in the pen, and gently walks the cows toward the gate.  The cows feel the pressure of someone behind them, and they see the narrow escape route.  They run past the man, and out into the pasture.

Why not let them all out at once?  If all the cows saw the gate wide open, they would rush the gate.  What happens when 150 cows try to go through a twelve-foot gate all at once?  Damage.  I’ve seen too many cows crowd the gate and the gate man lose control.  Suddenly, all the cows are running through and there is the sickening “crack” of wood snapping.  One hundred thousand pounds of beef on the move can crack an eight-inch post in two, and demolish a three-hundred pound gate.  The pace at which you let the cows out matters.

The pace of change in an organization matters too.  Some organizations never change because the gate isn’t even open.  Sometimes, the gate is not open enough for people to see a better future on the other side of the gate.  Sometimes, there is not enough pressure to move people toward change.  If there is not a compelling reason “why,” people respond by saying, “Why change?”

If a leader is conflict adverse, they may not wish to build the case for change.  It requires extra work, extra research, and extra risk.  It may be easier to keep all the cows in the pen, but eventually, the cows will die from lack of food and water.

Some leaders want fast change.  This usually is not because of a crisis, but because of the leader’s inward sense of urgency and ambition.  They push hard, and the change happens, but a lot of damage is done in the process.  I heard one pastor described like this: “He gets things done, but he leaves behind a lot a bodies.” 

The environment of your organization is factor in pacing change.  In general, city dwellers are more receptive to change than rural dwellers.  Before attempting change in a small-town organization, you have to earn trust.  People trust people they have known for decades before they trust people they have known months.

Your church or organization itself has internal dynamics that impact change.  Older, established organizations change slower than newer, leaner organizations.  Both businesses and churches have power blocks that must be considered.

I never had a class that taught me about the pace of change.  Knowing the pace of change is more caught than taught.  The only way to pick it up is to be the man on the gate and get run over a few times.  Or be the man in the back and have the cows turn back on you.  One of my favorite quotes from Teddy Roosevelt is from his “Man in the Arena” speech at the Sorbonne:  “…the credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds, who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause…”

Get in the pen, learn to pace change.  Your organization needs it.  Your church needs it.