It didn’t take long to write, but it expressed my heart perfectly.
Recently, as part of an exercise, I was asked to write out a prayer. The facilitator wanted us to be thoughtful…writing our prayers as did the psalmists and ancient believers. Here was my entry:
The road is barely visible Covered by the dust of frantic inactivity The remnant of miles traveled hopefully Long ago. What of great import drew me away? Why was the road inadequate - the destination re-routed?
The lure of significance? The beauty of a throne? The nobility of sacrifice or the promise of reward?
The road to joy remains unexplored. Its destinations plural…its source, singular.
I need a Map.
It’s interesting what pours out of my heart when I take a few moments to examine it. The noise in my life often drowns out what is actually important.
John Adams, Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill and others have SO much they can teach us. We can learn from their breathtaking successes and their stunning defeats. We can learn from their brilliant insights and their bone-headed stubbornness. To ignore these influential giants it to miss out on an education that only hindsight can give.
A couple years ago, I read a book entitled, “His Excellency: George Washington“. (I had just finished reading David McCollough’s 1776, which, of course, included many details of Washington’s life in that year.) Since I have loved reading about our presidents since I was about 8, much of the information in the biography was review for me. What was new, however, was a three-dimensional Washington. A Washington with ego, vanity, brilliance, courage, and, occasionally, a man who looked like he had problems making decisions.
The beauty of leaders like Washington, however, is that THEY learn from their lives, too, making mid course adjustments when the game is on the line. The attack on the Hessian encampment on Christmas Day after crossing the Delaware was daring, risky, and altogether brilliant. WHen it was showtime, Washington, the leader, had his “A” game.
Enter Tim Tebow. I know, a football player has no right being placed in the same sentence as one of the world’s great leaders. Still, while I personally like Tebow, I was among the throngs of people laughing at the Broncos when they drafted him. I thought his throwing motion looked like he belonged in high school, and that professional football players wouldn’t follow a guy who had such marginal skill.
I, like most everybody, underestimated the power of a leader.
Yes, he looks horrible for most of the game. Yes, it seems unimaginable, even to the uninformed observer, that Tebow has a job as a quarterback in the greatest football league in the world. But, in those key moments, when other players shy from the spolight, Tebow shows up. Again, and again, and again.
Champ Bailey, an almost sure-fire Hall of Fame cornerback, spoke for the rest of his teammates after Denver’s improbable 17-13 win over the Jets last night when he said, “I know people are still going to talk bad about us, but I don’t care. … We always have a chance with 15 as our quarterback.”
Sure, the bubble may burst. But there is no doubt that Tebow is another illustration, (albeit a more temporary one), of the importance of leadership. We know it’s true because we see it in history.
The world is horrified by the images. We watch as a toddler in China gets run over by a car….twice. 18 people have the opportunity to save this helpless child, but they avert their eyes and pass by. By the time a stranger picks up the tiny, broken body, it is too late. The child would not survive.
Is this us? Is this what we have become?
Not entirely.
I live in Indianapolis, and this summer during a severe summer squall, a straight line wind of over 70 miles per hour toppled the stage trusses supporting the lighting and sound systems at the Sugarland concert at the Indiana State Fair . 4 people were killed, and several people were trapped beneath the crushing weight of the trusses.
As lightning, thunder and horizontal rain pelted the crowd, something amazing happened. Hundreds of onlookers, instead of running for cover, jumped over barriers and fences and ran toward the stage. Ignoring the grave danger, they worked together to lift the trusses off trapped victims. Why?
Because it was the right thing to do.
I am writing this on a flight from Bangkok, where I attended a conference with my organization – Campus Crusade for Christ. As you know, floods have ravaged this nation, and millions of people have lost their homes, their possessions, their livelihoods and even their lives.
In the midst of this mounting catastrophe, the CCC staff that live in Thailand had a decision…..should they work to protect their own homes, or should they leave their material lives to the floodwaters and help others in need? Knowing they would lose everything they owned, they made the only decision their faith left them. They helped others. But why?
Because it was the right thing to do.
They made this sacrifice without any promise of personal recovery, but perhaps we can do something to thank these heroes. If you would like to help, you can donate to them here. Why?
Because it’s the right thing to do.
Here’s a video on the effort to help….thanks for considering this!
Imagine being a 13 year-old boy in the 70’s. Divorce was not yet the norm, and it was unusual for you to have a different last name than your parents. You haven’t seen your “real dad” since you were 8, and you REALLY identify with your step-dad.
You get it, right?
Junior high isn’t the most forgiving sub-culture in the world, and constantly explaining who you are and where you came from can be both exhausting and humiliating.
Wouldn’t you want to change your name? Wouldn’t you want to remove the obstacles that keep you from your mission? (Which, in junior high, is survival with the minimum amount of humiliation and pain.)
This week our organization announced a name change…from “Campus Crusade for Christ” to “Cru”. For 29 years I have been a part of this amazing group. Our DNA has always been to take the gospel, the love of Jesus, to EVERY person on the globe – giving every person the opportunity to say “yes” to Jesus!
In recent years, however, our name has become an obstacle. The media would have you believe that “Christ” is the issue. It’s not. But if we remove “Campus” and “Crusade”, which are obstacles, we are left with “Christ.” (I think we can all agree that that’s a bad name for an organization.)
So our leadership embarked on a prayer-saturated, sober process to rename a 60 year-old organization…an organization with a clear reputation for being willing to do ANYTHING to take the Good News to the four corners of the world, where men and women desperately need to know the God who loves them so dearly.
Explaining and operating with our name actually became an obstacle to our mission – to exalt and proclaim the name of Jesus! As our US Director stated, “We care more about effectively proclaiming the love and forgiveness of Jesus Christ then we do about having the word ‘Christ’ in our name.” So we made the change.
Like hundreds of churches and parachurch organizations that operate without “Christ” or “Jesus”, our mission is not defined by our name. Our mission and values drive us…and our mission is the same mission and call given to Dr. and Mrs. Bill Bright in 1951, to “go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” (Matt. 28:19)
Oh, and that 13 year-old boy? That guy was me. Changing my name made all the difference in the world to me, and I survived junior high with minimal damage.
Motorcycles, boats, planes, remote-controlled cars….anything fast. As anyone with the need for speed knows, however, the love of velocity can also be risky business.
I remember my first and only trip to the Indianapolis Motor Speedway for the Indy 500. One of my good friends was college roommates with one of the top drivers that year, and he got us pit passes for the race. While almost 200,000 people were in the stands, WE were allowed on the track! I was standing literally 3 feet from one of the Indy Cars when I heard, “Gentlemen, start your engines!” As the cars roared away, I ran off the track and over the pit wall. It was an exhilarating experience.
While standing in the pits produced some amazing moments early in the race, honestly, it got a little boring after 30 minutes or so. Why? Well, we could only see about 100 feet of the track from where we were situated, right at track level, and at the speeds the cars were carrying, we couldn’t even tell what color the cars were, much less who was driving. Eventually we took some seats in the grandstands. It wasn’t as frenetic and exciting, but it definitely gave us a better and more enjoyable view of the race.
My life is often like that Indy 500. I love the exhilaration of the pace, the roar of my schedule, and the riskiness of trying to accomplish more than I should sanely attempt. But there is a problem…
I miss the race.
As husband and father of a beautiful family, I am prone to miss out on the big picture in order to experience the adrenal rush of the speed of my life. Oh, how beautiful my life looks when I slow down a little and watch from 30 rows up.
OK….the truth is, 111,310 people were watching. And then there was the television audience….probably millions there. They just weren’t watching what I was watching – leadership in all it’s glory.
The date was September 22, 2007, and thanks to a friend’s generosity, I was given tickets to the Michigan-Penn State game. Michigan didn’t have a very good team, but the crowd at the Big House was still amped up. It was a fun atmosphere for me and my then 11 year-old son.
The game was a grinder. Mid-way through the 4th quarter, the score was 7-6 Michigan. The Wolverine offense, quarterbacked by freshman Ryan Mallett, was basically one-dimensional. Team captain Mike Hart finished the game with 44 carries for 153 yards. He was it….the only bright spot on offense.
The Wolverines eventually pushed ahead 14-6, only to see the Nittany Lions come back with a field goal, making the score 14-9. With 6 minutes left in the game, Michigan got the ball and was desperate to run out some clock. They handed the ball to Mike Hart…..and kept handing it to him, over and over again.
With 3 minutes to play, Hart ran up the middle and was destroyed by a Penn State linebacker. It was the 41st carry of the game for the running back, and when he was carried off the field, there was a sense of dread in the crowd. Their leader was gone.
Penn State called a timeout. It was 3rd and 3, and without Hart, you could sense the Nittany Lions thought they could stop Michigan, get the ball back and put the game away. That’s when I watched the drama unfold on the sidelines. Hart had positioned himself away from the coaches, and just before the timeout was over, he limped onto the field and told the running back who had replaced him to go back to the sideline. When he lined up in the backfield, I think everyone, including the coaches, looked on in shock.
Hart knew what was coming, and he did his job perfectly. At the snap of the ball, the Penn State defense blitzed their linebackers, hoping to catch the freshman quarterback off-guard and cause an interception, a fumble, or at the very least, an incomplete pass. As Mallett faded back, the injured Hart stepped in front of the linebacker just before he reached Mallett, and he crushed the defender and put him flat on his back. Pass complete, 1st down, game essentially over.
Mike Hart, who could hardly walk, came back on the field at the perfect moment.
To block. For someone else.
I have watched a lot of football in my life, but I will remember that play as long as I have a memory. THAT was leadership.
It’s been a long time since I’ve written. Honestly, I’ve missed it, if for no other reason than it gives me the opportunity to reflect on my life.
In recent weeks, my responsibilities in virtually every area of my life have increased. Less time, fewer resources, less time for relationships….700 miles per hour with my hair on fire all the time. It’s not a healthy way to live, and I know it. But do I change anything?
See, the problem is that by nature I am a positive guy. I recently took a personality test that seeks to identify each person’s top 5 strengths. My top strength?
Positivity.
Huh? Is that even a “strength”??
To be honest, I think I’m really more of an ostrich than an optimist. Instead of having a positive outlook on reality, I am, at times, more apt to look upon difficulties and trials and bury my head in the sand….pretending that everything’s okay by ignoring the problem. Eventually, it catches up with me and I land on life’s great debilitator…
Worry.
Worry sucks the life out of us. It kills our joy and shields us from the beauty that surrounds us. As Corrie Ten Boom stated so perfectly, “Worry does not empty tomorrow of its sorrow. It empties today of its strength.”
So what kills worry? Well, if you read the title of this blog post, you know my answer…hope. I don’t have a corner on the pain and sorrow market, but I have certainly had some dark moments, and it is hope that has sustained me, powering me invisibly forward, helping me get my eyes off myself and on to something productive and purposeful.
I think it is a theory of quantum physics that two objects cannot occupy the same space at the same time. I believe what’s true in quantum physics is also true in life, and that worry and hope cannot exist in the same space. My hope is in my relationship with my Creator.
Occasionally I come across a blog post that I think is important enough to republish. While the ideas contained in this blog post are widely known, I still see leaders, good leaders, who insist on trying being experts in everything. As Michael Hyatt points out in the blog, that philosophy is not only counter-productive for those of us leading, but it also inhibits development of people who have strengths in our weakness areas.
When I was a kid, the main test of manliness wasn’t bungee jumping or paintball domination. You could be as tough as nails, but there was one question every boy asked his friends.
“Did you cry when you watched ‘Brian’s Song’?”
Now, let me be clear here. I cry at supermarket openings and McDonald’s commercials, so I was never the litmus test for manliness. That being said, if crying at videos is grounds for giving up one’s “man card”, I defy any guy to watch the video below without turning it in on the spot.
The men and women that serve us are amazing, but I rarely think about their sacrifice in the context of the little people they leave behind. This video will change all that…and it will for you, too.
I love Colorado. That isn’t to say I don’t appreciate the Indianapolis area, where I live, but I LOVE Colorado. One of the great blessings of my life is that my job takes me to Colorado for an extended time every two years. I have been making this pilgrimage for 28 years now, and it never gets old.
When I was single, the trek was easy. I just packed up and left. As my family grew, however, this trip required some planning…someone had to take care of our house, our yard and our dog.
Several years ago, when my kids were little, we asked an 18 year-old girl if she’d house-sit for us when we ventured west. She was mature for her age, and we knew that she’d take care of the place, and our dog, to the best of her ability. We returned to find the everything in good shape, and generally as we left it.
Or so I thought.
A couple days after returning home, I realized that there was a strange plant growing outside our back door. It wasn’t unusual for us to have a weed or two grow through the cracks of our brick pavers, but this plant looked strange….it had grown large very quickly and had red stems leading to the green leaves. I went to my computer and “googled” the plant, and when I saw the picture of my strange weed and read the description, I couldn’t act fast enough.
Jimson weed. Poison.
The description read: “Symptoms include incoherent speech, impaired coordination; rapid heart beat; and dry, flushed or hot skin. In extreme cases, users can experience seizures, intense visual or auditory hallucinations, or cardiac arrest.” Yikes!
Having small children who put everything in their little mouths, I was horrified. What might have happened had my kids found the plant before I did? I shudder at the thought even today.
The 18 year-old girl who watched this plant grow had no idea what it was. Why should she have considered it harmful to anything, much less my kids? She wasn’t wired to think that way. If I had one of my close friends staying in the house, however, I’m pretty sure they’d have been at least observant enough to know that I wouldn’t want a large nasty weed growing up through my pavers. Perhaps they’d have been a little concerned by the ominous look of that fast-growing weed as well.
Here’s my point….who’s watching your backyard? Do you have friends, close friends, who know you and love you enough to speak freely when they see poisonous plants growing in your backyard? Do you have people who will speak up when they see you jeopardizing your job, your kids or your marriage? Who is is your community that will be honest enough to uproot the poisonous plant that threatens you?
