Leadership & Mean Chicks

Sometimes I think, “I could be a leader.”

I’m smarter than her, more emotionally stable than him, more gifted than that person, less annoying than that one, better decision maker than that guy and way more humble than that one over there.

Then I remember how difficult it is.

Your wife gets sick, keep moving. Your kids struggle in school and socially, keep going. Your mom is diagnosed with a terminal illness, stay the course. You’re homesick, depressed, worn out, insecure, dry, troubled, and lonely, lead on!

You lead different people from varied backgrounds with unique gifting that you need to organize into a cohesive team. Bill isn't qualified. Betty isn't teachable. Sam has anger issues. Mary is lazy. This one is inappropriate. That one is antisocial.

No one wants to change. No one likes your plan. No one gets along. They fight with each other. They fight with you. They push back against anything different, directed or demanded. No one acts like an adult. And no one likes you.

You spend all your time, putting out fires. You feel like you’re managing a preschool instead of leading adults; or worse, a middles school, with various scenes from Mean Chicks popping up.

Leadership isn't always this way. Sometimes, it’s a tremendously rewarding experience, serving with lovely people, who appreciate you and make you look better than you are. It can be a truly humbling experience and provide a tremendous sense of joy.

And sometimes it’s not.

I have no idea what your work situation is or if you have a good boss or a bad one. If it’s been rough lately, I encourage you to take a step back and try to look at your boss as a person. Realize there may be a lot of static in the background of his or her life. Realize too, we may not always be the easiest people to lead. 

A Different Angle

Nancy and I like to take walks together. A number of years ago, I realized I have a hard time talking about my day when I walk in the door. It’s weird, I know, but for some reason I need time to get there.

What’s worse is, sometimes I don’t even know what I’m thinking until it comes out of my mouth. I may have feelings churning around inside that I’m not even aware of until we talk through it together.

So, if I walk in the door and plop down in front of the TV, not only does my wife not hear from me, I don’t even hear from myself.

I’d like to say we walk all the time, but unfortunately, we left life, busyness and sometimes apathy get in the way. But we’ve started walking again, and it’s good.

Yesterday, we began the big loop around the neighborhood we normally take when we had to turn around and head home early. So we were walking in the opposite direction of our normal circuit.

We had only walked a little ways when I looked at Nancy and said, “Have you seen that house before?” It was a unique house that we had walked by tons of times but never really “saw” it. Then it happened again, and again.

Walking the opposite direction gave us a new view of the neighborhood. We saw things we hadn’t noticed before.

There’s a great scene in Dead Poets Society when Robin Williams has his students stand on his desk, in an attempt to get them to look at the world differently. There are things we do every day simply because they are a part of our routine, things we think we know simply because we are so familiar with them.

I wonder though, what in my life needs reevaluation. What habits or routines have I settled into need a different look? What am I not doing that I should be? Where have I grown complacent? 

We can walk the same path day after day, but we may not truly know it, until we turn around and walk the other way. 

God's Injustice

In my 15 years of missions, I've run into a lot of broken people (myself included) who have a lot of conflicted motivations and hang-ups. I've wondered at times, how in the world people come to Christ when God is using this motley band of misfits.

Nancy had worked with a ministry for a number of years when she realized some of their practices were improper, if not sinful. She and a friend confronted the leadership and pointed out the problems. As a result, her group of “friends” turned on her and shunned her. They refused to greet her in the hall and crossed the street when they saw her coming.

Several months later, the ministry was highlighted in church, celebrated and the leadership honored. People were coming to Christ and everyone was rejoicing. It was pretty tough not to jump up in the middle of the service and shout at them for hurting my wife.

I had a pretty blunt conversation with God about it later, helping him understand the injustice of using petty, hypocritical, self promoting sinners to reach the lost.

God’s blunt reply, “Dude, it’s not about you.”

What I lost sight of, in my self-righteous tirade, was a young woman, whose life was shattered, finding healing, grace and freedom. God loved her so much, he didn't care if he had to use sinful people, didn't care if they took the credit for his work in her life and really didn't care if it made me angry.

He loved her.

The world is full of broken people. The church is too. And I realize it has been a place where many have been wounded. If that has been true for you, I am so very sorry.

But let me assure you, the story isn't about those people. It’s about a God who loves you so passionately he came to earth and died for you. There is hope, peace and rest available. The story is about God and he welcomes you into it. 

Why People Leave the Church

I've been around the church all of my 45 years and in some form of ministry for nearly 25. Over that time I've seen guys like Jimmy Swaggart and Jim Baker fall. I've heard some pretty stupid comments come from guys like Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson.

It’s stuff the media eats up and cynics point and say, “See! I told you they were fakes!” It’s the kind of stuff that makes me sad.

But I don’t think it’s where the real damage is done.

The real damage is done by gossips and gripers who smile at their pastor after the sermon then cut him over lunch with their friends. It’s done by the petty and protective who have “their” area of ministry, “their” realm of influence and undermine any who threaten it.

The damage is done by those who shun the unclean visitor, the prostitute or the pagan. It's done by the pastor who abuses authority and trust for personal gain and glorification.

It's pretty easy for me to point my finger at pastors of mega churches or televangelists and condemn their actions. I can shake my head, cluck my tongue and moan about the damage their failure will cause the church.

The hard thing to do is look at my life, wonder how often I've criticized a sermon, made a snide remark about my brother, walked past someone I didn't want to greet Sunday morning.

Some people may have left the church because some dude on TV took their money. But I think more have left because regular every day saints have professed the love of Christ while they crucified their neighbor. 

Impulsive

I’m impulsive. It’s not a bad trait when you want to pack up your family and change countries, but not that helpful when you see a set of High School lockers and think, “What would it be like to jump across the top of those?”

Decision making is less of a cost benefit analysis than it is a, “That looks like fun!” kind of thing. Years of physical, financial and emotional pain have helped beat it out of me, but it’s still in there.

So as a son, moving my family to Ecuador in 1999 it never occurred to me the impact that might have on my parents. It was where we thought God wanted us, so, “Cool, let’s go!”

Now as a dad, with boys old enough to make their own decisions and move their own directions, Mom and Dad’s sacrifice becomes much clearer to me.

With thirty more years of wisdom and experience and without the propensity to jump without thinking, they had a much better understanding of the long-term impact of the decision.

Even today, knowing the cost I would make the same decision. But the loss of relationship between my boys and their grandparents still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

The reason I share this with you is because, this month, missionaries from all over the world will return to the U.S. and leave their children, at college or to look for work. It’s something they may have prepared for, but you’re never really ready.

Others will participate in weddings, giving their child in marriage to someone they may never have met.

I tell you this not so you will feel sorry for them, or think they are super spiritual or anything like that. I share it only to help you understand their reality, to know better how to pray for them this month and in the future.

They are parents saying goodbye to their kids. It doesn't matter if you are the one being left or the one leaving, that’s always a hard goodbye.

We're Not the Same

Sitting at my desk I could hear children playing outside. Kids from different nationalities, different countries, with different languages, all running, laughing and playing together. There was the occasional shriek, howl or wail of a child, who had played himself to the point of exhaustion, but even that would make me smile.

It amazes me how different we are. We are so culturally separated, the way we think, absorb and process information is vastly different. The same image, the same situation makes us feel different things and draw different conclusions.

I’ve seen educated men and women in Africa, capable of speaking eight languages, struggle to put together a simple puzzle. I’ve seen educated men and women in the U.S. who could breeze through systematic theology, humiliated in language school.

The language we speak, the culture we live in, the experiences we’ve had all impact the way we view the world. Which means we all view it differently.

But the laughter of a child produces the same response in all of us.

It amazes me how alike we are.  A child who wants “his” toy, young boys wrestling in the dirt, grass or sand, a teenage girl’s insecurity, a young couples obliviousness to the world around them, a mother chastising her son for running into the street, a father consoling his daughter who has fallen, a husband holding his wife’s purse as she haggles over prices, an old couple’s playful banter… I have been so many places and these images are as consistent as the sunrise.

People seem to think that if we focus on our similarities and not our differences we’ll begin to get along, that we need to find common ground. I don’t really think that’s true.

I think we need to embrace our differences. Learn from them. Understand them. Learn to understand that we may never really understand them. Only then can we appreciate the complexity of the issues between us.

We are not the same, you and I. That will make our relationship more difficult and it will make it sweeter. 

MINE!

No matter where you go, every little kid is the same. At some point in their young little lives they realize, if you have something… then they don’t. It doesn't matter if it’s a toy or a cookie, suddenly a light comes on and they realize they are missing out.

When that happens, things are snatched, a face is contorted and they spit out their first four letter word, “MINE!”

As hard as we try, to teach kids to share, that switch never turns off again. As adults it looks different. We would never snatch and scowl and use such an ugly word. By the time we've grown up, we've learned to manipulate and maneuver to conceal the ugliness of our action, but our hearts haven’t changed.

A selfish and coveting heart is a wicked thing and we are all born with one. And it is fed throughout our lives by ads and billboards, television, radio and movies that shout, “Newer, better, faster, smarter, sexier and more satisfying!”

Maybe we've grown up enough, those things don’t bother us. Maybe we think we've matured. We don’t want “the things of this world.” Our hearts are pure.

But what about my freedom, my rights, my power, my authority, my position, my will, my integrity, my character, my reputation, my life? How do we respond when those things are threatened, questioned and taken from us?  

So much damage has been done in the church by pious saints who wouldn't dream of a “frivolous” purchase, but would protect their position with venom. It may look different than the money hungry mobs in Wall Street or the glamour craved stars of Hollywood, but the heart is no different.

If I have truly been crucified with Christ, “mine” is the four letter word that offends him the most.