In the previous post I introduced you to The Law of the Nail. A corollary to the Law of the Hammer (“If all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail”), the Law of the Nail says,
If you are a nail, and especially if you’ve been pounded a time or two, everything (and everybody) looks like a hammer.
That’s even true when you’re a light bulb, not a hammer. Just watch the video:
Everybody gets banged up by people or by life sooner or later. But sometimes we are faced with situations in which we must work with, lead, or love people who, in nail terminology, are really bent up.
Because you are on the same planet, much less in the same building or room, they don’t trust you. Doesn’t matter whether you have earned their mistrust or not. They perceive, speak, and reason through their woundedness. And as far as they’re concerned, you’re just another hammer, waiting for your chance to pound away at them.
So what do you do with these people? Make their fears come true? Write them off? Get offended? Ignore them?
I’d like to suggest that you have an opportunity to both get the job done (whatever “the job” is) and be an instrument of healing. Here are some ideas: [click to continue…]
In the last post I shared some ideas based on the experience of a prophet in the Bible named Elijah about what to do when we try to draw from familiar sources of support, provision (income), encouragement, or direction – only to find that they simply aren’t there anymore. In the two days since then, I have talked to
a man who needed counsel and didn’t have a pastor,
a missionary who has seen a significant decrease in support,
a former lay leader in churches who is struggling to find a church home,
a pastor whose congregation is struggling both financially and in attendance,
a student whose marriage engagement has broken off,
a church member in another city whose pastor was terminated, then abruptly died.
What they all have in common – in the language of Elijah’s experience, their “brooks have dried up.”
I fully expect that nearly half the conversations I have tomorrow will be in the same vein.
I think I’ve found another reason to identify with Simon Peter, that famous-for-so-many-reasons disciple of Jesus. I can already relate to the fact that I feel like I’m supposed to be the first to show off when I think I know the answer to a question.
I can so relate when it comes to answering supernatural statements with in-the-natural answers or observations.
Most of all, I can relate to wanting so bad for my screw-ups to be the secret kind, only to have them aired out for the whole dang world to see.
But there’s another characteristic I see in this impetuous, impulsive, impassioned fisherman that I totally understand:
His randomness.
You just get the idea that Peter’s mama must have had a time trying to get him to do his homework. The very image of Andrews’s brother planning ahead for anything is laughable.
Ready. Fire. Aim. Uh oh. Sorry. Shutting up now.
Resurrection Randomness
So get this scene. Jesus has been crucified and risen from the dead. Peter, having denied the Lord publicly had become a reproach and embarrassment to the Lord, himself, and his companions. But he had also met the risen Christ and experienced the wonder of being forgiven by Christ.
I want to take you to a place where, frankly, we aren’t invited. For just a minute, let’s be one of “those” people we often gripe about – those rubberneckers on the highway, who seem fascinated with somebody else’s messes.
In this case, we’re creeping up to a closed bedroom door, where on the other side, we can hear muffled sobs.
A man’s sobs.
A few days ago, somebody from home had rocked his world. The news was bad, and every ounce of optimism he once had was crushed.
You should have been here yesterday. He was really blubbering then. And he will be again tomorrow. Fasting, too. And praying. Lots of praying.
But as he cries and prays and cries and fasts and cries some more, something happens. [click to continue…]
Just across from the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem is a small mountain called Moriah. Today the Dome of the Rock stands as the old city’s most visible landmark. But there was a time when, on that very site, one of the most striking ancient structures of all time stood, calling the people of Israel to worship God. I’d like to tell you why the Solomon’s temple was located there.
It all started with a colossal failure in leadership that left 70,000 people dead.
Last week I was having a “what do I do” conversation with a youth pastor in another city. Seems he found himself at an impasse with his boss – the senior pastor of the church – over what leadership was supposed to look like. His take on it: the “leader” isn’t leading anybody. Not him, not the others involved in the problem. Nobody.
A couple of weeks ago I was talking to a frustrated children’s pastor about a supervisor who was repeatedly letting important details fall through the cracks. It got so bad, the entire church leadership team was hindered in getting their work done.
I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve counseled or consulted with employees or constituents – inside and outside Church World – who are crying out for visionary, heart-based leadership. All they get instead are insecure emperors, oilers of the machinery, or absent-minded trips down memory lane.
Whenever I hear yet another story of position holders who are failing the people they’re supposed to be leading, I have two knee-jerk reactions. First, I want to take up the constituents’ offense. I want to bark and growl and roll my eyes and look incredulously and fuss and fume. Second, I wonder if anybody could issue the same complaint about me if they were completely honest.
Just for laughs, why don’t we stick out necks out and try on an idea. Leadership failures aren’t the result of somebody setting out to ruin an organization or to make your life or work miserable. (Hey, I said “try it on”… if it doesn’t fit, we can fuss and fume some more later.) Assuming that’s true, then, where do we go wrong? How do leaders begin to suck the life out of people or organizations? Here are 10 things to watch for: [click to continue…]
OK, so there’s this guy who’s asking his brother-in-law for a major favor. This isn’t like lending a wheelbarrow or babysitting the kids for a weekend. This order’s pretty tall. As in,
Could you leave your family?
Oh, and your country, too?
And help me babysit my family of three million?
Hey, what’s a family for?
And get this – all indications are that that the brother-in-law did it.
Over the last two weeks, I have spent meaningful time with six different pastors who live 12 time zones away from me. Each is uniquely gifted, varied in experience and have completely different assignments. In the course of that time, I’ve seen and heard some things, learned some things, observed some things. Here’s a sampling:
Each pastor has his own unique model or approach for ministry.
Each is convinced his ministry model is the right one, at least for him.
Each has questions or concerns, if not open criticism, about other models of ministry practiced by others.
Nearly every one of them has been hurt pretty deeply by people in Church World.
There’s an old colloquial saying in Thailand that has become something of a joke. Makes for a great t-shirt, too. When foreigners would travel to the Land of Smiles, and ask if this whatever was the same as the whatever where they came from, or the whatever from another part of the country or town, the standard reply was, “Same same, but different.”
Why do they have the same two kinds of markets sitting right next to each other? Same same, but different.
Are the people on the southern coast the same as the people in Chiang Mai or Bangkok? Same same, but different.
Do the cooks turn out that Thai cuisine they way their grandmothers did it? Same same, but different.
Today those who deal with the realities of change in this, the only nation in Asia never colonized, face great challenges and great opportunities. And yet, they hold on to a culture that is the friendliest form of fierce independence I have ever met. Same same, but different. [click to continue…]
“What are you teaching them about?” my daughter asked – referring to our upcoming pastors and leaders training in Thailand.
“Leadership,” I said.
“Well, can I ask you something? Is there a way – I’m not sure how to say this – is there a way to ‘dumb down’ leadership training?”
My pause meant, “Keep going.”
“I have to train these fifth-and-sixth-grade leaders every day at FROG camp for about 30 minutes on being a leader, and I was wondering how I could explain biblical leadership on their level.”
I did a random brainstorm with her. Talked about David and Joshua and Paul and Jesus. Hurled out Bible passages like Joshua 1:1-9, 2 Timothy, 1 Peter 5:2-4, 1 Corinthians 2:1-5. She said “thanks,” but I hung up with the feeling that I hadn’t “dumbed down” anything.
That got me to thinking later. I have a Ph.D. in Organizational Leadership. I’ve spent years studying theories and models, biblical principles and best practices. But none of them – none – involved fifth- or sixth-graders.
Maybe we have it backwards. Rather than presuming to teach 11-year-olds all about leading, maybe we should try to learn some things from them. [click to continue…]
Just across from the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem is a small mountain called Moriah. Today the Dome of the Rock stands as the old city’s most visible landmark. But there was a time when, on that very site, one of the most striking ancient structures of all time stood, calling the people of Israel to worship God. I’d like to tell you why the Solomon’s temple was located there.
Last week I was having a “what do I do” conversation with a youth pastor in another city. Seems he found himself at an impasse with his boss – the senior pastor of the church – over what leadership was supposed to look like. His take on it: the “leader” isn’t leading anybody. Not him, not the others involved in the problem. Nobody.
OK, so there’s this guy who’s asking his brother-in-law for a major favor. This isn’t like lending a wheelbarrow or babysitting the kids for a weekend. This order’s pretty tall. As in,
Over the last two weeks, I have spent meaningful time with six different pastors who live 12 time zones away from me. Each is uniquely gifted, varied in experience and have completely different assignments. In the course of that time, I’ve seen and heard some things, learned some things, observed some things. Here’s a sampling:
There’s an old colloquial saying in Thailand that has become something of a joke. Makes for a great t-shirt, too. When foreigners would travel to the Land of Smiles, and ask if this whatever was the same as the whatever where they came from, or the whatever from another part of the country or town, the standard reply was, “Same same, but different.”
“What are you teaching them about?” my daughter asked – referring to our upcoming pastors and leaders training in Thailand.