Everybody loves to laugh at the proverbial idiot who, while painting a floor, works away from the door instead of toward it. At last he finds himself trapped in a corner and in a terrible dilemma. Shall he stay there until the paint dries or tiptoe out, messing up his work and his shoes at the same time, to say nothing of his pride?
Painting oneself into a corner is always embarrassing. Nobody likes to look up from their work and realize they're trapped. I have struggled to understand certain bizarre inconsistencies in some areas of contemporary left wing political and cultural thought. I now believe the explanation is as simple as this. They have painted themselves into a corner and are emotionally unable to deal with that reality.
Here is Exhibit A. The thought roller coaster you are about to ride is a wild one so hang on. It goes like this:
In light of current events, we wanted to repost a previous entry that we felt would be relevant. Here is Dr. Rutland's article from May 2016.
The Portland Public School Board recently voted to ban from all its schools any book, magazine, pamphlet or other material that expresses any doubt about climate change. Students at DePaul University invaded a speech by conservative speaker, Milo Yiannopolous, threatened violence and shut the event down, claiming that they simply should not be subjected to such outlandish ideas as his nor should he be allowed to speak on the campus.
When I think of American neo-fascists, I envision semi-literate, camo-clad thugs at secret forest camps training toddlers to shoot uzis. Certainly they do exist. Nutcase skin heads are certainly out there and they are dangerous. I do not deny that. However, as sad as they are, they are hardly surprising.
The real shocker, is finding fascists in respectable colleges, in libraries and on boards of education. I rather expect neo-fascists to be jack-booted neanderthals who cannot spell. I am surprised to discover that in modern America they are more likely to be 19-year-old sophomores studying the humanities at some of America's most liberal universities. I am hardly shocked when I read of neo-fascists who are bearded ex-cons toting automatic weapons around clandestine guerrilla training camps. I am amazed to behold the modern phenomenon of professorial fascists toting Ph. D's around Ivy League campuses.
"Oh, no," she moaned as if she were staring at the gallows.
"What?" I asked. "What's wrong?"
We were fellow teachers at a small, elite, private academy in Washington, D.C. Not yet credentialed, still in college in fact, I was part-time and therefore free of all the extra duties and committees required of the full-time faculty. She was easily my mother's age, perhaps older. I'm sure she saw me more as another student than as the "colleague" I fancied myself.
"Oh, it's another meeting. The principal has called another meeting of a committee I serve on. I'm thinking of faking a migraine. Will you back me up?"
"Is it as horrible as all that?"
"It's worse! It's excruciating. They go on and on and on and they accomplish nothing. He just enjoys being the center of attention. I'd rather actually HAVE a migraine."
It was years later, many meetings later, many excruciating meetings later before I understood both her pain and the real problem. When people say meetings are horrible what they really mean is horrible meetings are horrible. I have sat through meetings where I ached to scream. I have also been in meetings that were efficiently conducted, yielded results and proved crucial to setting and meeting team goals. Actually after such meetings I have sensed, not anger and frustration, but enthusiasm, good humor and esprit de corps.
I have been able to identify five keys to conducting a productive and, dare I say it, enjoyable meeting.
King David was one of those larger-than-life personalities that simply would not be squeezed into our evangelical view of what a "Bible hero" should be. Joseph was. Daniel was. The Virgin Mary surely was. Not David. The problem is we want a "Christian" David, and he just was not a Christian. He was a Jewish warlord living in the cusp between the Bronze and Iron Age.
We cannot impose on David a contemporary Judeo-Christian ethos. We want the oh-so-cute and curly headed child with a slingshot who fit so nicely on VBS felt boards. The problem is the real David won't fit on felt boards or in the modern world. He was a sometimes an outlaw who ran what could legitimately be called a protection racket. He sold his sword to become a mercenary for an enemy of his own people. He was despised by his own father-in-law and ridiculed by one of his wives, one of his many wives, by the way. He also had a vast harem of concubines. He was feared by his enemies, envied by some, admired to the point of idolatry by a desperately dangerous private army, desired by women and hated by one of his own sons.
David committed adultery and conspired to have a faithful follower murdered to cover it up. He was rebuked publicly by a prophet, caused untold suffering among his people with an ill-advised act of hubris and on his death bed, like a mafia don, he ordered the execution of enemies.
David was also a Spirit-led poet with prophetic and Messianic insights that reached beyond the millennia. He was a consummate musician whose melodies soothed the demonic, a man of unwavering loyalty and the founder of Israel's eternal capital, Jerusalem. The problem with David is actually the problem with the Bible. It's just so darned complicated. There are parts of it that don't even seem Christian. That is because they aren't, but all together it is.
If we try to make David into a New Testament saint we will miss one of the truly magnificent complexities of Bible, the REAL Bible, that is. If we dismiss him as a legend like some kind of Jewish King Arthur, we deny the authority of the Bible. How can we reconcile this complicated and often conflicted genius with the we what we know to be true of God?
Last week I was in Washington, D.C. at the invitation of International Christian Concern to speak at their one-day Summit Conference. Though ICC and all the speakers and I are burdened for persecuted Christians everywhere, the specific topic of this summit was North Korea.
Two congressmen spoke including Rep. Chris Smith from New Jersey. Rep. Smith is a congressional leader on issues of international religious freedom. Sen. Ted Cruz and Sen. James Lankford also spoke and they proved to be knowledgeable and moving speakers.
A North Korean escapee gave a harrowing account of his miraculous deliverance from the reign of terror now prevailing in that poor country.
I also spoke. Each speaker was asked to speak for ten minutes. I thought my readers might like to see this brief message. After you watch this video, I hope you will spend some time in prayer for suffering believers around the world. Last year some 90,000 Christians died for their faith. Several hundred thousand more worship under constant threat of discovery, imprisonment, torture and death. Please pray for the suffering church.
Here then is my address at the ICC summit on the persecuted church. This event was held last week in the House of Representatives Sam Rayburn building.
I was raised by an army officer. He thought like an officer, a good one by the way, and he taught me much. I heard tag lines from Officer’s Candidate School at the breakfast table. That combined with my year of birth made a difference in the way I think about life and leadership. Year of birth? Yes, I am what is known as a baby boomer, that is people born in the era around 1947-1962. In fact I am the quintessential "early boomer," born as I was in 1947.
Because I was born at the beginning of the boom I tend to think more like my father's generation, the so-called builders, than I do like those born at the end of my own generation. Take, for example, my inner understanding of authority. Chain of command is a phrase I grew up with. It sounds alien and angry to gen-xers, and incomprehensible to every born since Woodstock.
As she sobbed pathetically on one end of the couch her husband scowled on the other, only the length of the sofa between them, and yet light years apart.
"I hate it when she cries like that." His face was a mask of anger, perhaps even rage. "I can't stand her emotionalism."
Apart from the fact that he himself was at least as emotional as his wife, he was guilty of a common and unfortunate misnomer. He had confused at least two and perhaps three words which are frequently confused and misused in a way that actually causes problems in leadership as well as relationships.
Near the end of the movie Tombstone, Wyatt Earp tells his friend Doc Holiday that he just wants a "normal life." Holiday's response is classic.
"There's no such thing as normal life. There's just life."
I have come to believe, that as unlikely as it seems for wisdom to come from such a source, Doc Holiday may have been right. What I think people mostly mean by "normal life" is actually calm, even, unchallenged life with neither great victories nor disappointing defeats. The seductive charm of such normality, so called, is evenness. Such dreamt-of unthreatening continuity, despite its plasticity, has few hurts or frights or failures. It also wants challenge, opportunity and the delight of victory.
The problem with talking about gifts and giftedness is that the entire conversation is different depending on with whom you speak. Some consider only natural gifts, as in Kevin Durant is a gifted basketball player. He certainly is. Just as certainly, he has also worked hard to hone his skills. I am absolutely certain there was a raw gift there way before his first practice, before his first step or even his first breath. Beyond that, 6’ 9” and 215 pounds has a certain enviable gift quality about it as well. There are gifted performers, speakers, athletes and artists whose best efforts to perfect their skills would have been futile without their natural gifts. I sense intuitively that had I worked even harder than Durant I just might not, at 5' 8 1/2", have ever been an All-Star in the NBA. Of course, that's just a wild guess, and now we will never know for sure. Voice lessons would never have made me into Bruno Mars, and unable to color inside the lines since kindergarten, I'm guessing that I may never give Renoir a run for it.
If you start losing teeth at fifty-five it's a crisis. If you start losing them at five it’s progress. What makes a crisis a crisis depends in part on the context. But there are life crises which irrespective of context are universally understood. I find it absolutely remarkable that so much in King David's life and leadership is so easily applicable to my own. He lived three-thousand years ago. An Iron Age warrior, an outlaw, a poet, a musician and a king. None of these, especially the musician part, have any remote similarity to my life, yet every time I study David, I identify.
I suppose David's life could be accurately described as one unceasing crisis. Many might think of their own lives that way, but there are actually long periods in even the most tumultuous life which are lived in relative calm. We just don't memorialize those. Likewise, the writer of the books of Samuel, Kings and Chronicles surely felt no need to say, "For the next five years everything was pretty much ok."
Having said all that, I have identified three specific crises in the life of this desert warrior which are profoundly relevant to the modern family and leader.
The teenager who wants to borrow her mother's car needs to learn not to ask in the moments just following her mom's long and harrowing commute home from work. The employee who wants a raise should never ask right after the boss has announced that the company is in a cash flow crunch and everyone needs to tighten their belts. Timing may not be everything but it ranks right up there.
The Leader's Notebook wants to give you some questions to ask yourself on timing that may help your appeal, request or proposal enjoy a greater likelihood of success. None of these are fool proof and even if your answers are right on all of them, you may still hit a wall, but at least you will know it probably wasn't because your timing was bad.
One tends to think of the Christian life in terms of softness, of words such as love and grace and peace. Those words are real to be sure. Yet there are are other words in the walk of Christ - tough, rugged words - words that are hard to hear, hard to say and harder still to live. This part of the vocabulary of The Faith is replete with angular words, sharp words with none of the corners rounded off or sanded down.
The cross is just such a word. Pain, horrific and humiliating pain, and all the rest of the human nightmare of abandonment and betrayal are in that one word. I passed a jewelry store window in which were displayed some of the most gorgeous, bejeweled crosses I've ever seen. In the midst of them was this sign:
THESE CROSSES ON EASY TERMS
A TV sportscaster was interviewing a retired Olympic runner just before one race at a big track and field event. One runner they were discussing was the favorite but evidently a strong competitor was in the lane beside him.
“What do you think he needs to do to win today?” the interviewer asked.
“He just needs to run his own race,” was his answer.
Frankly that seemed a bit on the obvious side. How could he run anyone else’s race? The more I’ve thought about it, however, the more taken I find myself with this advice. At first glance it may seem a consummate example of overstating the obvious, but it is more nuanced than one might think. It is also good advice for life and leadership.
Paul said “I have finished my course,” II Timothy 4:6.
Let me list them. You know them already but let me call their terrible names. Here are my choices for the top ten causes of depression in the ministry.
2) The fear of failure
3) Rebellious opposition
5) Mental and physical fatigue
7) Stress: usually financial
9) Accumulated hurt
10) Anger and unresolved inner issues
That is the big ten as I have observed them, not in some distant, statistical study, but up close and personal. I know I am not unique or even rare in this experience. I have occasionally struggled with depression, more circumstantial than clinical though not altogether, throughout my forty-six years of ministry. I have known dark moments and personal failures. I have been deeply disappointed in myself and struggled at times to stay in the ministry, or even to feel that I should stay in the ministry. In one truly terrible season, only the grace of God through my wife, two friends that refused to let me quit, and the wise and anointed help of a trained counselor kept me in the work.
How an organization thinks about itself is largely a function of senior leadership. Self-concept is critical to success at varying periods of the organization's history. This truth is easily observable in sports. Furthermore, it is commonly observable. One team, the unanimous underdog comes onto the field with a wild passion, an almost crazed determination. Their opponents, the prohibitive favorites, seem stuck in low gear. They just cannot seem to find the inner fire for which they have in the past been famous. What happens? Why does a team that is so much "better" suddenly lose to a team they ought to have beaten easily, and which if they played a series might predictably defeat nine out of ten times?
There are all kinds of factors, of course, and no one explanation is sufficient, but I believe the number one answer lies in an organizational communication failure between the coach and the team. Somehow the coaching staff failed to impart the correct self-concept. Many coaches and leaders think this is done by convincing the team they are winners.
The age of martyrs is now. It is misguided to believe that the worst persecution of Christians took place in the ancient Roman Empire. We are moved by the harrowing accounts of Christians being thrown to lions in the Colosseum, though the numbers may actually be somewhat inflated. The brutality of the First Century Roman persecution was real and those early martyrs should be honored, but in all of human history the most dangerous time to be a Christian is actually right now.
Two back-to-back conversations, literally back-to-back, on the same day, at the same venue, convinced me that the level of emotional toxicity, particularly concerning politics is at an all time dangerous high. While teaching leadership to a professionally diverse crowd, I used two examples of outcome-based communication. I was making the point that one way to measure the effectiveness of a speech, is simply by asking, does it accomplish, in the immediate aftermath, what the speaker hoped for?
The first example I used was Barrack Obama's first inaugural address. I explained that in terms of that measurement the speech "worked." Irrespective of one's politics, in terms of the Rutland "effectiveness analysis," Obama's speech was successful.
For a second example of an even more effective speech I chose Donald Trump's speech before congress on February 28, 2017. He had to do three things; rally a rapidly splintering Republican Party, defang the Democrat plan to humiliate and further delegitimize him at that very speech and he needed to inspire the nation to a positive vision of the future as he saw it. He accomplished all three. Even the least enthusiastic of his Republican colleagues, albeit a bit begrudgingly, admitted that with that one speech, Trump took control of the Republican agenda in Congress. Furthermore, the nation virtually exulted in his positivism. The speech got a 78% positive response on a CNN poll and the stock market shot up more than 300 points to pass 21,000 for the first time. Finally, he made the silly Democrat "protests" in the chamber look petty, petulant and irrelevant. All that in one speech. "Love him or hate him," I said, "that is an effective speech."
At the break I was accosted twice for equal and opposite reasons. The first was an older man who asked how could I use an enemy of America, a traitorous, secret Muslim as an example of anything "good." He said it was disgusting and bitterly disappointing of me to do so. Saying that I did not vote for Obama only seemed, inexplicably, to make it worse.
I walked away from that shaking my head but before I could even seek some calories-laden solace at the refreshment counter, I was thoroughly denounced by a woman for "praising an anti-Semitic racist." This person explained how she had admired me for years and now I had shattered all that and she was wounded, offended and deeply disappointed. It was obvious that arguing or even answering her would have been futile.
I was in the tenth grade and learning life from those who had gone ahead. A sophomore watches the seniors. From them he gains both good and bad. As a newcomer on the basketball team I was eager to learn from the "big boys." How to stand, how to dress, how to swagger as an athlete aught; these were the important lessons I sought. One day an older boy, not intentionally, by the way, taught me an unforgettable lesson about positive focus versus negative fixation. Now I do not for one moment suggest that Butch (not his real name) saw what happened as an example of that leadership principle. Likewise, even today, were ol' Butch and I to reminisce about that memorable moment, I doubt that he would see, as I do, that it afforded me a splendid teaching moment. I also want to state for the record that my understanding of the meaning of the incident did not come to me until years later. In the moment I just thought it was sweet poetic justice, the kind which involved a smallish sophomore's delight to see an older and frightening idiot get his comeuppance.
For what reason I never discovered, Butch, afoot, was chasing an eighth grader attempting to flee on a bicycle. Unable to get the bike up to speed, the terrified boy dismounted and fled on foot, leaving the bike by the road. Unable to catch and damage the little guy himself, Butch decided to damage his bicycle instead. I watched as Butch stomped on the boy's spokes. Unable to inflict the desired damage that way, Butch stepped back into the roadway to take a running leap, intending obviously to land with both feet on the offending bike.
This plan went wonderfully awry, however, when Butch stepped directly into the path of an oncoming motorcycle, the driver of which was a dangerous hulk named Darrel, one of the very few boys of whom Butch himself was afraid. Really afraid. The motorcycle veered wildly avoiding Butch and coming a screeching halt, Darrel dismounted walked coolly over to Butch and, without a word of warning, knocked him flat on his back. It was magnificent. It was a scene of glorious karmic retribution and one which I never forgot.
Reflecting on the disastrous final presentation at the 2017 Academy Awards, I immediately remembered Butch semi-conscious in the dust while I, a prudently hiding tenth-grader, laughed my head off. To this day I can remember the salacious thrill of watching Darrel, that unlikeliest instrument of God, administer punishment so well deserved.
Now from the vantage point of a half century of leadership I can see the real point.
Beyond the issue of poetic justice, there is a wonderful lesson for life and leadership.
Here, then, are some observations on the 2017 Academy Awards, compliments of Butch the bully.
Leaders in this contemporary world must brace themselves for a tsunami of ground noise. Whether in academia, business, politics or any other filed of endeavor, when a leader steps to the plate the chorus from the peanut gallery cranks up. The boos and the cat calls and screamed insults rain down. This unrelenting tidal wave of criticism can be discouraging to say the least and potentially crippling.
Leaders, after being scalded and scalded again and again by this acid rain, can lose their energy, their vision and, at least, their desire to lead. What some call burnout is less often fatigue from over-work, and more often combat fatigue.
I heard a customer in a tire store ranting about how he hates Valentine's Day and how he refuses to celebrate it. He went on and on about how Hallmark and the candy companies invented the holiday to make money, and that it's not a "real" holiday, and that they are definitely NOT getting any of his hard earned shekels. No flowers will he buy. No sir. No night out. No stupid, frilly card with hearts all over it and, one hundred percent, no romantic meal out at some overpriced restaurant or some weekend at B and B where they rip you off for a night's sleep and a breakfast that you can get cheaper at a Waffle House. And, by the way, no chocolate that she does not need anyway.