I’ve been a business owner for 36 years, so I understand how
important “leadership” is to the success of a business. I take
this role seriously and do my best to lead my team with strength, compassion
and vision so that all of us can have a better future. But providing leadership
isn’t just important at the office. As a husband, father and grandfather, it has
to permeate my personal life as well, especially in terms of providing
“spiritual leadership” for my family.
I have to laugh because my awesome Mother-In-Law sometimes refers to
me as “Prayer Boy”. That’s because whenever we get our large
family together for a meal I encourage everyone to stop and offer a blessing
before we eat. I pray because I’m thankful for my family, I pray because I’m
thankful for the food on the table, and I pray because it’s an opportunity to
share my faith and set a good example for my family. That’s what leadership is
all about, setting a good example not just in your words - but in your actions
as well.
However, having the responsibility of spiritual leadership isn’t
easy.
I’m not a pastor by any means and I’m far from perfect (just ask the noisy
neighbor that I yelled at mercilessly yesterday). Toughest of all is that it
sometimes forces me to step outside my comfort zone. But I accept the role
because it’s in my heart to do so and I can’t ignore it. And if I struggle or
get scared I turn to the Bible or an inspirational book by amazing authors like
Og Mandino or Max Lucado who remind me that all I need to do is look to Jesus
for the best example of spiritual leadership that ever existed.
Several days ago I read a short story by Max Lucado about Jesus that
truly touched me. It reenergized that feeling in my heart that I should
always try to be a good spiritual leader. In fact, it moved me so much that I
decided to share it with my wife. It was still very early in the morning and
she was just waking up so I sat on the edge of the bed and read the story aloud
to her. About three quarters the way through I got emotional and had to choke
back tears. I struggled to keep reading and I’m not totally sure why that
happened. It might have been because I have a lot going on in my life right now
that is really stressful. But more likely, I think it was a combination of me
relating to the powerful message in the story about the “stench of sin” because
I, unfortunately, have been there…and yet being willing to share that message
with someone I love so very much. Maybe that’s the essence of true leadership…
caring enough about the comfort of others to step outside your own comfort
zone!
 |
| Date Night with my wonderful wife! |
Nothing proves a man’s ability to lead others
as what he does
from day to day to lead himself.
~ Thomas J. Watson
From “And the Angels Were Silent” by Max
Lucado
Lord?
Yes.
I may be
stepping out of line by saying this, but I need to tell you something.
Go ahead.
I don’t like
this verse. “My God, My God, why have You abandoned Me?” It doesn’t sound like You,
or sound like something You would say. Usually I love it when you speak. I
imagine the power of Your voice and the thunder of Your commands. That’s what I
like to hear. Like when You ordained the waves to splash and they roared, or
when You declared that the stars be flung and they flew, or when You proclaimed
that life be alive and it all began. When You whispered breath into the
clay-caked Adam, that was You at Your best. That’s the voice I love to hear…
and that’s why I don’t like this verse.
Look at the
sentence. There is a “why” at the beginning and a question mark at the end. You
don’t ask questions. And as long as I’m shooting straight with You… I don’t
like to see the word “abandon” either. The Source of Life… abandoned? The Giver
of love… alone? The Father of it all… isolated? Come on. Surely You don’t mean
it. Could we change the sentence a bit? Not much, just the verb.
What would you suggest?
How about
challenge? “My God, My God, why did you challenge me?” Isn’t that better? Now
we can applaud. Now we can lift banners for Your dedication. Now we can explain
it to our children. It makes sense now, You a hero. History is full of heroes.
And who is a hero but someone who survives a challenge. Or if that’s not
acceptable, how about “afflict?” “My God, My God, why did you afflict me?” Yes,
that’s it. Now You are a martyr, taking a stand for truth. A patriot, pierced
by evil. A noble soldier who took the sword all the way to the hilt, bloody and
beaten, but victorious. Afflicted is much better than abandoned. You are a
martyr. Right up there with Patrick Henry and Abe Lincoln.
You are God,
Jesus! You couldn’t be abandoned. You couldn’t be left alone. You couldn’t be
deserted in Your most painful moment. Abandonment is the punishment for a
criminal. Abandonment is the suffering borne by the most evil. Abandonment is
for the vile, not for You. Not You, the King of kings. After all, didn’t John
call you “The Lamb of God who has come to take away the sins of the world?”
Wait a
minute! “To take away the sins… “I’d never thought about those words before.
I’d read them but never truly thought about them. I thought You just, I don’t
know, sent sin away. Banished it. I thought You just stood in front of the mountains
of our sins and told them to be gone. Just like You did to the demons. Just
like you did to the hypocrites in the temple. I just thought you commanded the
evil out. I never noticed that You took it out. It never occurred to me that
You actually touched it – or worse yet – that it touched You!
That must
have been a horrible moment. I know what it’s like to be touched by sin. I know
what it’s like to smell the stench of that stuff. Remember what I used to be
like? Before I knew You, I wallowed in that mire. I didn’t just touch sin, I
loved it. I drank it. I danced with it. I was in the middle of it. But why am I
telling You? You remember. You were the one who saw me. You were the one who
found me. I was lonely and afraid. Remember? “Why? Why me? Why has all this
hurt happened to me?”
I
know it wasn’t much of a question. But it was all I knew to ask. You see, God,
I felt so confused. So desolate. Sin will do that to you. Sin leaves you
shipwrecked, orphaned, adrift., Sin leaves you aban …
Oh.
Oh, my goodness, God. Is that what happened? You mean sin did the same thing to
You that it did to me? Oh, I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I didn’t know. I didn’t
understand. You really were alone, weren’t You? Your question was real, wasn’t
it Jesus? You really were afraid. You really were alone. Just like I was. Only,
I deserved it. You didn’t!
Forgive
me, I spoke out of turn.
