I want to tell you how a man invested in his future, and in mine. It happened nearly 15 years ago. He was in West Texas, I was in Memphis. Limited by distance, I was forced to have The Talk with him on the phone. It was a talk I dreaded.
This man was my father-in-law.
I had brought a lot of pain into his life and his family. And to say they were hurt and angry about it is putting it mildly.
I knew that in order to move on in a healing process in my life, I had to face up to some pretty serious mistakes – sins – and he and his family were the victims of a lot of that. I knew that regardless of what I would hear or how he would respond, I had to have The Talk.
The boys of summer are back. You’ll find them hanging out in Florida and Arizona ballparks, getting those winter cobwebs cleared out, and setting out to prove they’re worth all that money (or should be paid all that money).
But while it still has to be worked out on the field, and the first word to start the proceedings is still, “Play,” make no mistake about it. The 2010 version of this game got started as soon as Mark Teixeira caught the last out of the ’09 World Series. And it was all business. That game is played by General Managers on telephones and at conference hotels and in corporate offices throughout North America and, in some cases, in island Caribbean nations or the Pacific Rim.
They were about the business of building a team. And not just for 2010.
Your payroll may be slightly less and your personnel decision may not involve as many people. But wherever you connect with others to get things done, you or somebody is building a team. And the decisions you make today can affect the quality of your team(s) for years to come.
Just ask Bobby Cox, who is retiring this year after 50 years in the game. Cox has the distinction of hiring his own boss as the GM of the Atlanta Braves and “demoting” himself back to the field manager in 1991. Between him and John Schuerholz, the Braves reeled off 14 consecutive division titles – a feat unmatched in professional sports anywhere.
So what can we learn from the likes of Cox/Schuerholz, or the New York Yankees, who won their 27th World Series title last year? [click to continue…]
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…]
Ever hear of the Law of the Hammer? Also called The Law of the Instrument, it has been attributed to both Abraham Maslow and Abraham Kaplan (neither of whom were carpenters, I don’t think).
The Law of the Hammer is based on the idea that people tend to look for cure-alls or over-use familiar tools, especially in dealing with people. It says, “If all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail”
Wise. In other words, diversify your toolbox.
I’m not a carpenter either, and six months of bending nails in 1979-80 can attest to that. But I’ve spent a lot of my life building, working with, leading, and being an instrument of healing to people. And I have observed a corollary to the Law of the Hammer that is important to remember in dealing with people. I call it The Law of the Nail:
If you are a nail, and especially if you’ve been pounded a time or two, everything (and everybody) looks like a hammer.
I’ve been on all sides of that. I’ve been the nail. Banged the nail. Straightened out bent nails. Sat in on more than my share of Nails Anonymous meetings (including pastors’ prayer meetings). I’ve hired nails to go to work for me without realizing how pounded they had been. And I have learned, sometimes the hard way, that living in a broken world means working with and leading broken or bruised people. So at the risk of pounding the metaphor too much (sorry), here are some ideas for finding healing if you are the nail, or in the next post, working with and leading the nails in your organization or workplace. [click to continue…]
Okay, so there’s this song… but more about that in a minute.
If you haven’t discovered Animoto yet, you need to check it out. This online service can take your pictures and/or video clips and produce killer videos. You can do a 30-second piece for free, or for a modest annual membership fee, get unlimited full-song-length videos. The program generates it for you. You can upload your own music or choose from their impressive library. You can then share your masterpiece with friends and family, or, if you want to improve on it, click on the re-do button and let Animoto give it another whirl.
So with the birth of our grandson and our granddaughter coming to visit for Spring Break this week, cameras have been clicking left and right. So I started tinkering around with Animoto to see what it could do.
This is not a picture of God. It’s a picture of a Nanga Sadhu, or naked Hundu holy man. His face and body are smeared with ashes and he’s breathing out marijuana, not brimstone.
But look again.
I think in a lot of people’s minds, when they think of God, an image sort of like this emerges.
Okay this post is interactive, so get a pen and something other than your outgoing mail to write on. Or do what I did and pop up your word processor.
Here’s the challenge: Watch the 46-second video below and see if, based on that, you can think of at least one adjective that begins with each letter of the alphabet. (Confession: I had to watch about five times, but I got it.)
Why this video? Only because I saw it the other day and thought it was way-cool. Here’s the back story: A missionary had distributed Gideon Bibles to a village in Malawi, Africa. These people were so happy to get their hands on their own Bibles, they spontaneously broke out into song and dancing, worshipping God in gratitude. (When was the last time you did that when you got a new Bible?)
So click on the “play” button and start listing adjectives. See how many plays it takes for you to get a full list. I’ll show you my list after it’s over and you have yours.
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.
It was that time again. Time to plan the annual Men’s Rafting Trip in Colorado. I had taken a group of fifty men a year earlier and discovered how some guys get the nickname “Bob” when they go rafting.
That’s all I want to say about that.
Now as I pulled out the file, I came across the list of men who had gone with me. What a difference 12 months had made! I was amazed at the profound changes so many of them had witnessed.
Three had been fired from their work.
One had quit his job and was unemployed for four months.
One man endured an extended season of severe depression.
Another had faced a dangerous autoimmune disease and was out of work for several weeks.
One man’s career was at a dead end.
Three others lost their businesses.
One left for another state with no job in sight.
Put in Biblical language, “their brooks had dried up.” That is, they looked to a means by which God had provided for them in the past – health, strength, job, career – only to discover that the resource was no longer available.
Little did I know as I scanned that list that I, too, would soon face a drought of my own. Up until that time my ministry was fairly evenly split between an itinerant ministry and a part-time pastoral staff position. Within a matter of weeks, my traveling ministry had dwindled to two continuous months of inactivity. Then the church where I had served for four years terminated me, along with a number of other staff members, because of budgetary restraints.
I know about as much about car transmissions as I do about clouds (which for some reason I never studied in school). I know it makes the car go, and if it ain’t working, your car won’t be going anywhere. At least, not in the manner to which you’re accustomed.
Now since I’m completely clueless, I’m also at the mercy of somebody who isn’t if something goes wrong with my car-goer. So when I need transmission service, that’s when I call the folks at A-1 Transmission.
(Ewww. Does this sound like a commercial or what?)
Seriously, this isn’t about transmission service. It’s about LifeVesting. And how a little transmission shop on 34th Street invested in my life in more ways than one.
A couple of months ago my wife reported that we had something major wrong with her vehicle. Sure enough, when I drove it, it jerked badly when it finally shifted gears, and when I would stop, it took forever to downshift back to first.
Ugh, I thought. Transmission.
But I did know who to call. I had gotten good service at A-1 in the past, and so I heaved and jerked over there one afternoon to show them I had a transmission problem.
Crazy thing was, he didn’t take my word for it. Can’t imagine why.
“Let’s go for a ride,” he said, and asked for the keys.
We drove through the neighborhoods of central Lubbock and it didn’t take the expert long to arrive at a diagnosis. [click to continue…]
I want to tell you how a man invested in his future, and in mine. It happened nearly 15 years ago. He was in West Texas, I was in Memphis. Limited by distance, I was forced to have The Talk with him on the phone. It was a talk I dreaded.
