Not once did the thought occur to me. Not once.
We knew at 10 weeks we were having twins, courtesy of those dandy new ultrasound machines. And we were excited. Fresh out of school, still using wedding dishes, living in our own home, and picking out not one, but two sets of names.
Two boys? Joel Andrew and Jeremy Adam.
Boy and a girl? Joel Andrew and Jessica Leigh.
I was pretty quiet as we headed home from that latest ultrasound. The images were beginning to form in my mind for the first time.
Two girls?
Cosmic shifts started taking place in my little brain. And they all culminated in a wedding.
Since I was old enough to understand what fathers were, I wanted to be one. I was blessed to have a dad who loves being a dad, to this day. In whatever ways I have failed to live up to his example, I caught the whole load on that one. And in doing so, three deep convictions emerged:
- I would be the first representation of the nature and character of God to my children.
- We were called to raise adults, not children.
- Mommies build nests, but for daddies, children are arrows in their hands, and my job was to launch them.
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(A Turning Point Story)
“I never thought the doors of a church would be locked,” said Danny Kincaid. But locked they were. So Danny spent the night on the church bus. It was the only place he could find to put a roof over his head.
Danny was in his early 20s; I was in my early college years. I met Danny after some other people (who weren’t exactly thrilled about his accommodations) met him first. They introduced him to our youth pastor, who led Danny to faith in Christ. He also offered Danny a place to stay – his own home – until he could get on his feet. That’s where I came in. I was a youth ministry intern, and got to know Danny as he hung out with Willard and the rest of us. Way too old for the youth group, Danny was a fixture around the youth staff as we practiced a version of “discipleship by hanging out.”
One day Danny and I were driving around town looking for him a job and place to live, and he told me a story that haunts me to this day. When he was very young, through a series of circumstances beyond his control, he came to live with his grandparents. I don’t remember why. Maybe it was a divorce. Maybe his parents died. At any rate, Danny wound up growing up in South Carolina with a grandmother he still referred to as “Mommy.”
As Danny became a teenager, he went through the typical rebellious stages that most adolescents encounter – made all the more extreme because his generation gap was times-two. He had a temper. And a mouth. And he knew how to flex both.
One day Danny and Mommy got into an argument, and it got pretty heated. She said some things. He said some things. They got madder and madder. Finally, Danny screamed out, “I wish you were dead!” And he stormed out of their mobile home and slammed the door.
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A Picture and a Hundred Words
A little reminder, with conventions approaching:
Politics means gaining the favor of the people. Statesmanship is executing the will of the people.
Politics is getting something said. Statesmanship is getting something done.
Politics is doing what it takes to win. Statesmanship is making the other side glad you did.
Politics is finding the parade and getting in front of it. Statesmanship is leading the parade to a desirable place.
Politicians sit and promise. Statesmen stand and deliver.
Politicians campaign for the rights of the pig (or pig owner). Statesmen clean the stalls, feed the pigs, and have bacon for breakfast.
Last month Penelope Trunk, writer for the Boston Globe and the Brazen Careerest blog, wrote about her relationship with her favorite mentor, Chris Yeh. It’s a great read (here) about the importance and cultivation of mentoring relationships. When Penelope started her company, she asked Chris to be an advisor. He agreed and told her the best way to use advisors:
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Call at times you know are easy for them to talk,
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Keep them up to date, and
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Ask them what you should be asking them about.
Read that last one again. Chris understands something about leadership, productivity, and guiding people toward personal and professional excellence: Exceptional leaders aren’t the ones with all the right answers; they’re the ones who ask the right questions.
Want an interesting study? Check out the lives of great leaders, past and present. Find their guiding questions. Go beyond what Churchill, Ghandi, Dr. King, Golda Meir, Jack Welch, Lincoln, Margaret Thatcher, Colonel Sanders, or General Patton said or did. (How’s that for an eclectic bunch?) Look at the questions they asked.
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If there’s one thing I can’t stand (actually there are a few), it’s jealous, insecure, or bitter preachers. Neurotic crybabies or arrogant kingdom builders, God help them and us when they’re forced to face their own “stuff.”
Imagine my surprise when I discovered I was one.
A few months ago, my son Joel wrote about a former pastor he had met who now owns a smoke shop. He got burned by a church experience, and I guess he decided to keep the fire going.
I fired off a riff about ministry, and found myself using a compelling phrase to describe our calling – The Relentless Pursuit of the Glory of God.
That term kept resonating in my spirit.
Later the same night, I heard about a new church plant not far away, whose first two Sundays had doubled anything my church plant had done back in the day.
Jealous.
Couldn’t help it. Well, maybe I could help it, but I didn’t want to.
We were going through a difficult season at the time, and here was some guy (actually a great guy) rocking and rolling on his church’s honeymoon.
As I went to bed, feeling sorry for myself for all our troubles and stresses, that original phrase kept coming back. The Relentless Pursuit of the Glory of God. The Lord was reminding me of what ministry – and life – is all about.
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I never knew Bill Hyde.
I will one day.
Bill was a church planter. I know a little about that; I planted a church five years ago. Bill planted six hundred, and just before he died, he hosted a then-record 3,700 participants in a Pioneer Evangelism conference. His vision: to plant 3,000 churches. He took what people were adding in the Philippines, and began multiplying their efforts ten-fold.
I never heard Bill’s deep bass voice, singing or otherwise.
I will one day.
Bill gave up a career in music or teaching because, as one person put it, he wasn’t content leading a quiet, happy life teaching music. Instead, he and Lyn, his wife, chose the frontlines of the battle. They were appointed as missionaries in 1978.
I never hung out, played golf, argued, or even shook hands with Bill. I sure hope I can one day.
Jim Cox, his former co-worker, said that Bill was a big guy:
Big in stature, big smile, big laugh, big hands, big heart. Bill was a musician, a teacher, a planner, an organizer and a doer. He had strong opinions, enjoyed a good argument and a game of dominoes. Bill and I played golf together weekly. He was my perfect golfing companion because he was as bad a golfer as I—not that we kept score anyway.
Bill and I have met in one way. [click to continue…]
Bret* was a Sherman tank. Didn’t drive one; he was one. He was ticked off – at me! And he wasn’t in a mood to pout or negotiate. He came with a verbal Uzi, convinced I had done him wrong, and he was going to let me know about it. (For the record, he was wrong about me doing him wrong, but he was in no mood to hear it. Or hear anything, for that matter.)
Right in the middle of the tirade, as this hulk of a man was blowing me away, I had this surreal experience. It was the Lord, I believe, speaking to me. “Just let him finish. With everything he has to say.” So I did. I just sat there and took it. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like his attitude. I didn’t like his complete blindness to the facts. But I took it.
“Is there anything else?”
“No, that’s about it,” he said very gruffly.
“Okay, well I’m very sorry you feel that way. I’ll see to it that you never feel that way because of me again.”
That was 11:00 a.m. At 2:00 p.m., the phone rang; it was Bret again. Totally different story.
“Man, I just want you to know, I’m on your team. I so appreciate you.”
I quickly ruled out the possibility of demon possession, mental illness (that one took a bit longer), or bribe money. No, Bret had just emptied himself of his poison. And he meant it. He was on my team.
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Imagine being the captain of a historic sailing ship – a master of commerce and an expert in trade throughout the Mediterranean. You live to taste the salt in the air, to roam from port to port, from culture to culture, bringing value, goods, and trade to each. You perform a greatly-needed service, and your work is honorable.
And, let’s just assume that you’re greatly blessed and good at what you do. Your business has prospered as you have prospered others.
And, while we’re assuming, let’s just assume that you recognize the source of all your blessings, and seek to live gratefully and humbly before your Creator.
Too bad.
Storm’s coming anyway.
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Louise has had a rare kind of kidney cancer for the last 10-11 months. She believes in prayer, and has a lot of people praying for her. Add your own prayers to the list on her behalf. She believes that with God’s help, she can beat it.
She receives chemotherapy treatments, and recently had an idea for a way to brighten her day while she was taking them: Red shoes.
“I just thought the would make me feel better to look down at my red shoes,” she explained.
So she called Zappos to place her order. She was greeted with their “usual greeting that is so comforting.” She skipped the company’s joke of the day, and soon was greeted with a customer service rep. “Gracious” was the word she used to describe this individual who helped her with her order. “We talked a little, and I explained why I wanted these shoes. She, as all of your employees, [went] out of her way to please customers. That was that.”
The next day, to her surprise, Louise received a beautiful arrangement of red tulips, in a bright red vase and a beautiful red ribbon. She couldn’t imagine who sent them. She opened the card and began to cry. The card read,
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It’s a long way from Fairfield, Connecticut, the home of General Electric, to Henderson, Nevada, the home of Zappos. The gap is even wider between their respective products and services.
GE is a multinational American technology and services conglomerate. Zappos sells shoes, handbags, and other items online – to the tune of more than $1 billion this year.
Both made the news last week. And it all has to do with their “Bottom 10.”
General Electric is a household name; chances are, you have something in your home with it’s name emboldened on it. The only original company still listed on the Dow Jones Industrial Average, more recently, GE is the company that Jack rebuilt, and one of the most admired in the business world today. Jack Welch determined in the 1980s that GE would be number 1 or 2 in particular industry or leave it completely. He also started the practice of firing the bottom-performing 10% of his managers every year.
Last week the Wall Street Journal reported that GE was sending its century-old appliances business to the auction block. Say it ain’t so! The American company that “brings good things to life” may be bringin’ ‘em from Korea or Sweden or somewhere else. From a sentimental perspective, it hurts. But from a management perspective, it was an overdue decision.
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