Bus #3: The American Way

One thing I've always taken pride in is in attempting to have the strength to handle whatever comes my way. It's a common American theme, that of self-reliance, of picking oneself up after getting knocked down, of accomplishing anything if you just work hard enough, of not needing anyone. My youngest daughter says it best when in anger she takes whatever I have in my hands that I'm trying to help her with and shouts at me, "I do it myself!" She, I, and the collective American spirit all maintain that we can handle whatever comes our way.

It's all lies. Big ones. It's a goal set that sets us all up for failure. It also did those Israelites in from time to time in the books of the minor prophets, and this "bus" of self-sufficiency is one of the many in front of which I commonly throw myself.

One fact is inescapable, no matter how much I try to ignore it: I am not God. That pretty much rules out all delusions of sovereignty, thrusting me into a world of whirlwinds that I attempt to control all on my own. If life were a school project, and I was given the option of working alone or working with a partner, I would constantly choose to work alone. I'm that stubborn D student who knows just enough to not totally fail and whose pride won't allow me to accept the partnership offered by the smartest kid in the class. "I do it myself!" I yell into the whirlwinds.

The book of Amos lays out how well that works for those attempting whatever it is they are attempting, alone:

"Therefore flight shall perish from the swift,

The strong shall not strengthen his power,

Nor shall the mighty deliver himself;

He shall not stand who handles the bow,

The swift of foot shall not escape,

Nor shall he who rides a horse deliver himself.

The most courageous men of might

Shall flee naked in that day." (2:14-16)

The most discouraging aspect of that passage is that we're talking about the best of the best in terms of natural talent. This isn't about the weak, the poor, the helpless; this is about the swift, the strong, the mighty, the courageous. I am none of these things. Middle of the pack, maybe, but certainly not ready for the Top Gun school of tough guys. If the most talented are screwed on their own, I can only imagine how little I am able to fight alone, without the Sovereign one.

The book of Zecharia weighs in as well. If I want to accomplish anything of substance, anything lasting, anything worthy of my calling; and if I want to survive drought, famine, devastating loss, and potty-training my kids, then it must be "'Not by might nor by power, but by My Spirit,' says the Lord of hosts." (4:6)

This bus has run over me so many times, I almost feel more comfortable in front of it. It's an act of quiet desperation, but it's a familiar one, and it's seen as honorable in our culture. Familiar or not, honorable or not, it's never taken me to success before. That, I've come to realize, only comes when I partner up with the Honor Student and let Him do most of the work.

Bus #2: The Immediate

The book of Haggai presents another common "bus" that I get hit by time and time again. Haggai prophesied in a time when the Jews were finally allowed to return to their homeland after 70 years of captivity. One of the first duties upon returning was rebuilding the temple. This started well, but the Israelites became quickly distracted by their own homes, businesses, etc.

God calls them out: "Is it time for you yourselves to dwell in your paneled houses, and this temple to lie in ruins?" (1:4)

The result of this mistake sounds very familiar:

"You have sown much, and bring in little,

You eat, but do not have enough;

You drink, but you are not filled with drink;

You clothe yourselves, but no one is warm;

And he who earns wages, 

Earns wages to put into a bag with holes." (1:6)

In other words, they became indifferent to God while focusing on their own agenda. John C. Maxwell, in his commentary on this chapter, puts it another way: "If you forget the ultimate, you will become a slave to the immediate." Obviously, based on verse six, the immediate does not pay all that well. And I feel like I've been there before, putting wages into a bag with holes, running around doing anything and everything to get ahead, accomplish great things, yet falling down exhausted at the end of the day, and never really getting anywhere. 

Basketball season is a common time for this. It's easy, what with the constant demands of the immediate (today's stats, practice schedule, game, scouting report, etc), to completely forget the ultimate. And when I get caught up in the immediate, all I want to do is win. I forget that I'm not there to build my own house, so to speak, but instead there to build up young people for the world and be a model of Christ-like behavior in all circumstances for them. Sometimes I do get to win and get all the rewards of winning. But after ten years, I know that the rewards of winning pale in comparison to the rewards of coaching with God's agenda in mind.

I have built great relationships with some of my players over the last decade, kids who I run into here and there (or on Facebook) and make me feel like I did something for them. I know I had the ultimate firmly in mind during those years. There are some seasons, however, where there are few of those relationships still left. It's clear where my mind, my heart, and my priorities were doing those seasons. And it's no wonder I felt like I was spinning my wheels, doing everything I could, with no results. I ate and drank but was not full, clothed but not warm, paid but not enough.

In Haggai comes one of God's most important commands for all people in all times: "Consider your ways!" (1:7). In your "busy season," whose house are you building?

Bus #1: Good Times

My recent posts have been about the minor prophets of the Old Testament, my most recent one comparing the mistakes I routinely make to stepping out in front of buses, all of which I should be able to avoid if only I'd read about those foolish Old Testament people screwing up time and time again. I'd like to detail what some of those buses look like.

One major stumbling block for those Israelites as well as for me is good times. God puts it like this in Hosea:

"I knew you in the wilderness,
In the land of great drought.
When they had pasture, they were filled;
They were filled and their heart was exalted;
Therefore, they forgot Me." (Hosea 13:5-6)

In the wilderness, I'm awful good at cozying up to God: God, heal me. Send rain. Keep my car running for another month. Help me find a job. And survive this one. Save me, God. I'm desperate.

Too often, though, getting out of trouble is my quickest ticket back into real trouble. Once I'm safe and secure (or at least feel that way), it's easy to do as Hosea's wife did and go out and be a prostitute again with my attention and devotion. God who? Oh, yeah, thanks God. Good job. I'll call you next week.

To be filled and have a heart exalted is a dangerous place to be. It would be sinful to see it as bad. Blessings are good. We should celebrate what we've been given. But I know I have to work hard to recognize that the pitfall exists if I'm lazy or not looking both ways. When times are good, when money is plentiful, when security abounds and the cupboards are full, I know that in order to miss getting hit by that bus, I've got to remember that the money, the food, and the security are blessings from God, not gods themselves.

"In their affliction they will earnestly seek Me," says God (Hosea 5:15). If I earnestly seek even when times are good, I'm guessing I'll find that the joy that all the blessings bring me pales in comparison.

A Morning Cloud

I routinely tell my students that there are 3 kinds of people in this world:

1. The kind who see someone get hit by a bus, realize that it hurts, and avoid walking out in front of buses.
2. The kind who have to get hit by the bus before they believe that it hurts.
3. The kind who get hit by the bus multiple times and keep jumping out in front, expecting it to feel good, despite all evidence and experience to the contrary.

I'll leave it to my audience's imagination in which category most of my students fall. On a personal level, though, that's one of the reasons I like reading biographies. If I can learn from the lives of others, both what they did well and the mistakes they made, then perhaps I don't have to necessarily experience something in order to understand it. 

That's why the Steve Jobs biography was worth my time. Despite the fact that he is a completely different person from a different generation with a different faith structure and skills in an industry I don't understand, the read was worth my time. It's also why reading the Old Testament is worthwhile as well. Too often the Old Testament is discarded, especially the minor prophets that I've been reading as of late. It's easy to see those books as ancient writing about ancient people in an ancient world, with little bearing on the here and now. (Also, God does an awful lot of smiting in the Old Testament, and people aren't necessarily thrilled to hear about those parts.)

Here's the thing, though: people are people. The Israelites are a mirror for present day humanity, communicating to us likely mistakes and triumphs, highlighting the way people act who alternate between chasing God and doing their damndest to ignore him. In them, I see me. And unfortunately, instead of watching them get hit by the bus and learning from it, it feels an awful lot like watching myself in a bloopers reel, blindly jumping out in front of the bus time and time again.

In the book of Hosea, God makes a point about Israel, comparing them to a prostitute whoring themselves out to the highest bidder, dressing up daily for cheap thrills while discarding God. When that doesn't work, when they are in despair about their daily lives in shambles, they call out to God. 

God has seen this video before. He's seen it since the beginning of man, through generation after generation of followers, seen it in Hosea's time and in me in my youth, in my 20's, and now in my 30's. Because of that, God can wisely respond, "Your faithfulness is like a morning cloud." (Hosea 6:4)

I can often arrogantly read through the silly mistakes of the Israelites, their obstinate and stupid behavior causing them to chase their own shadows in the wilderness and under other rulers over and over again. As soon as I get comfortable and smug, a verse like that one smacks me into reality. Your faithfulness is like a morning cloud. Unpredictable, fleeting, faint, the cloud may be back tomorrow, or it may be a while before it is seen again. My faithfulness is a morning cloud.

I've learned a lot from my survey of the minor prophets. Most of all, I've learned about what the buses look like that I seem to love to jump in front of. The picture is discomforting, as it must be. But the more I watch film of that bus, the better chance I'll have of missing it tomorrow. Or perhaps the next day. After all, I'm a morning cloud.

Beyond Fish Vomit

I'm working my way through the minor prophets in the Old Testament right now, and I'd like to comment in a few posts about what I've learned. The first one I want to address is Jonah.

Jonah and the whale, or the big fish, or the leviathan, or whatever else is trending at the time is a story told to all ages. Jonah attempts to disobey God and hide; God helps him find a better hiding spot inside some large fish's belly. Drowning in fish guts, Jonah learns his lesson and is rewarded with a vomit-induced ride onto shore to finally do the job God sent him to do. The lesson here is easy - don't avoid God's commands for personal convenience, especially if you plan to sail in the near future.

The book of Jonah does not end there, though, and the rest of the story is hardly told. It seems that those wicked people of Ninevah, those depraved degenerates whom Jonah has been sent to chastise and forewarn of their impending doom, actually listen to Jonah and repent. Here's where the story gets good (and familiar).

Jonah is furious with this outcome. After all his trouble, he wanted a front row seat to some serious Sodom and Gomorrah action. These are wicked people, after all, who deserve to be struck down with great vengeance and furious anger, to use a Pulp Fiction reference. Instead, God relents, much to Jonah's dismay.

Logically, this seems backward. He was there preaching, they listened, and everyone is safe; why wouldn't Jonah be thrilled with this? The answer - he's just like all of us who often root for evil people to stay evil. See, when the jerk with whom you work performs another enormous act of jackassery, ask yourself this question: are you happy about it? Do you recount the tale for others, relishing in the growing evil of one you've already deem awful? When the athlete you hate gets arrested or is thrown off a team or provides one more outrageous, asinine interview to the media, do you soak it in? When your boss makes one more incompetent decisions, or provides another shameless lie, are you somehow comforted?

Shamefully, I am. It's comforting because it's less complicated. It means I was right about them, that I was clever enough to see them for the jerk, idiot, or devil that they are. I am good, they are not - clear lines are drawn with me on the right side. The more mistakes they make, the less I have to think and feel and hope for them. If they're evil, they're hopeless, and certainly I'm not responsible for the well-being of the hopelessly evil in the world?

Jonah was backward, and so am I, and I'm guessing so are many of my readers. While it's nearly impossible to admit to hoping that those we despise remain contemptible, it's not hard to understand why it happens. 

Don't miss the part after the fish upchuck. Jonah sounds selfish and godless in his error, and so do we. 

What I Wish I Had Said at the Beginning

The problem with writing a blog from a Christian perspective is that the likelihood is there of angering a great many people from time to time, none of whom will be in a hurry to burn down my home but who may seethe quietly, tsk tsking a perceived "holier than thou" arrogance. Really, it's the problem with talking about the nuts and bolts of Christianity anywhere, in any way, to anyone.

This is why I wish I were as smart as C.S. Lewis. I'm reading Mere Christianity again right now, and about every five sentences I come across a brilliant line that I've got to stop and soak in. One really stood out to me yesterday, though, one I wish I had said myself a long time ago. In describing the Christian lifestyle, Lewis writes, "I am not trying to tell you in this book what I could do - I can do precious little - I am telling you what Christianity is."

And there it is. Whatever I write here, whatever I talk about, whatever I discuss in conversations with friends and family, both believers and atheists, this is where I'm coming from. And it's where a great many Christians are coming from when they talk about the faith as well. Talking about perfection (Christ) is not a claim of perfection from the individual. Lewis, like all of us, "can do precious little" on his own; but failing to do something perfectly does not disqualify one from understanding the message. Getting a math problem wrong does not mean I have to quit believing in math, and knowing how to teach point guards doesn't mean I can play the position. 

Yes, a great many "Christians" get this wrong. The tenets of Christianity they love to talk about are the ones they are easily able to follow. They are creating a bad name for the faith, and I apologize for them. But they are the weak Christians, if they are Christians at all. It is the strong ones who will talk about Christ's teachings on lust or money or forgiveness and add that they struggle mightily. The strong ones talk about their weaknesses. But they also understand that the fact they are weak doesn't give them a "get out of truth free" card.

Whatever I write here, I write to get closer to the truth. I write to challenge myself and encourage others to discuss that truth, debate that truth, and chase that truth. We are all imperfect. But we don't get closer to perfection and truth by lying about what it is.

A Singular Focus: Part 3

So what can be taken from all my writing on Steve Jobs (see previous posts on him winning and losing)? The connecting factor, his singular focus, contributes both to his success and failure. What is a motivated individual seeking to make his mark on the world to do with this? Focus more? Focus less?

One obvious takeaway is that you can't have everything. It sounds simple, but many like myself act shocked when we discover it to be true. The Atlantic recently ran a cover headline touting: "Why Women Still Can't Have it All." Much to the chagrin of many women, the article (written by a woman) explains that it's nearly impossible to continuously climb the professional ladder and be an all-star mom. To take the time to be a great mother requires sacrifices.

There was some outrage accompanying the story, but this is foolishness. The cover could have just as easily read "Why People Can't Have it All." Men can't either. Choices must be made. I guarantee that Barak Obama is not an all-star father right now. He can't be. For that manner, neither can Mitt Romney. Neither can anyone else whose profession requires of them a great deal in order to be successful. They can be a dad. They might even be a good dad. But an all-star at work and at home? They simply cannot have it all.

I have faced this myself. Since the premature death of my head coaching career, I have longed to be a head coach once again, that passion still burning within. Since that time, I've had two head coaching offers. As badly as I wanted to chase those professional goals, to say yes meant to sacrifice something. They each would have made it harder on my family. I spent days weighing pros and cons; it took days because it's true - you can't have it all.

As I've made it abundantly clear on this blog and through Facebook posts, I am thrilled to now be done with grad school. During those three years, I couldn't have it all either. I chose this degree. That meant I chose many hours in my office working, not building relationships, not chasing goals, not smiling much. I had to choose.

I bring these up not to say that I chose wisely, just that a choice had to be made. And the lesson from the Jobs book, then, is to choose carefully. If you have only one priority, you can be unbelievably great at that one area. If you want fifty areas of interest in your life, you might be well-rounded, but you also might not be any good. I like what Jobs did at Apple when he came back: he put up four categories that were Apple's priorities and said anything that fell outside of those was getting cut. No more resources, no more time, no more people were spent outside of the four quadrants.

I was able to cut my personal list to only two for July and August: writing and relationships. Having been burdened by grad school for so long, I knew what I missed most and had sacrificed the most in that time. I've tried to take my time and spend as much as I can advancing relationships (family, friends, God) and my writing ambitions. I can't keep up this dual focus for long - school does start again at the end of August and I will eventually have to teach once again. But this is a starting point.

In my journey for right living, for narrow but balanced priorities, the real singular focus that I must have is God. Biblically, there is only one question that I need to ask about the priorities I choose: will this bring glory to God? All of my relationships can accomplish that; they can also be an outlet for ignoring God. I can write for God's glory, or I can write to feel important. The same with the money I make and spend, the books I read, my actions at home, and the rest of what I allow on my calendar.

Your focus, whether singular or not, will be on things that last, or things that don't. If I'm going to live well, I would be well-served to lock in on the eternal.

Why Steve Jobs Lost

In yesterday's post I discussed that in order for Jobs to reach the iconic light in which he is now seen, he had to maintain a singular focus in his life. He won big because he erased all except his target of building Apple into a revolutionary company. Why then, do I title a new post about him losing? Because Jobs lost as big as he won. And why did he lose? The culprit was that same singular focus that got him everything he wanted.

I say that Jobs lost because he lost a ton of relationships. His intense tunnel vision made him ignore employees, friends, his wife, and his children. Based on the contents of the book, filled heavily with interviews from the family itself, those relationships can not be termed victories. He was liked by many, respected by some, and loved by a few; but he left nearly everyone wishing he had done more.

Isaacson writes, "His primary focus was on his work. He was frequently aloof from his two younger daughters, estranged from Lisa (his first daughter whom he abandoned), and often prickly as a husband." His wife, regarding his behavior after one of his battles with cancer, had this to say: "I think it was hard on the family, especially the girls. After two years of him being ill, he finally got a little better, and they expected he would focus a bit on them, but he didn't. . .Like many great men whose gifts are extraordinary, he's not extraordinary in every realm."

A individual who worked closely with him said, "In ways, I still like the man, but I don't believe him."

One individual whom Jobs trusted professionally once challenged him, telling him that humiliating his workers was counterproductive. Jobs' only reply: "This is who I am, and you can't expect me to be someone I'm not."

The striking contrast to me is that at every product launch, Jobs had thousands of people begging for him, shouting and cheering and hanging on every word that he said. They came, practically throwing palm branches into the street, worshiping Jobs and whatever he had to sell. Sitting at home was a family wondering when it was their turn. That turn never came.

Perhaps it's not really a loss if the defeat comes in a game that one wasn't really playing wholeheartedly to begin with. That certainly characterizes Jobs (he admits as much in the text). However, it is a wistful, sorrowful tone that he uses in regret-filled reflections at the end of his life. His products will soon be obsolete, his company run in someone else's vision. What endures will be the memories of those who knew him best but never got to see him at his best.

Why Steve Jobs Won

I just finished reading the Steve Jobs biography by Walter Isaacson this week, and I've come to some interesting conclusions, the first of which is the topic of this post.

Not everyone gets a biography written about him/her. I, for instance, will likely float into obscurity after my death, even more so than the obscurity in which I now live. Isaacson has written biographies on Einstein, Kissinger, and Benjamin Franklin, people who won big in their life. Picking up the book, I questioned how Jobs fit into this category. Isaacson establishes the answer in the book, and it's a worthy story. The answer I wish to discuss now, however, is how did Jobs do it? How did he win big, change the world, and accomplish his lofty goals?

Steve Jobs won for one reason: a singular focus. He shut out everything that kept him from his goal. In an interview with the biographer before his death, Jobs said, "My passion has been to build an enduring company where people were motivated to make great products. Everything else was secondary. Sure, it was great to make a profit, because that was what allowed you to make great products. But the products, not the profits, were the motivation." The biographer succinctly put this into his own words: "his ego needs and personal drives led him to seek fulfillment by creating a legacy that would awe people."

And that is what he did. He created great products. He created and later saved and later reinvented Apple into one of the most successful companies in the world. How we listen to music, what we use our phones to do, and what we have decided those products should look like are all directly connected with Jobs' work. Apple's stock rose and fell based on mere rumors of his health. Steve Jobs wasn't successful in the industry; he was iconic. He gained this because of his intense and singular focus on this one goal.

Part of focus is clearing the clutter. Said Jobs, "Deciding what not to do is as important as deciding what to do," he said. When he took Apple over again, he challenged the company to quit creating many mediocre products and instead create four revolutionary ones. Once a year, he held a retreat for his most valuable employees called "The Top 100." At it he asked for suggestions on what the company should be doing next. The whiteboard had a list of only ten on it, with all employees jockeying for their idea to stay on. When the final ten were decided on, Jobs slashed the bottom seven and said they could only do three. There may have been 25 great ideas, but Apple couldn't do 25 ideas masterfully, something Jobs knew very well. Instead, they cut all but a few essential priorities.

Jobs did this with employees as well. Accomplishing the goal was more important than maintaining feelings. Jobs only wanted "A" players on his team. If someone proved to be a "B" player, they were out, sentiments be damned. Anything less than perfection was berated by Jobs. Using what many who worked with him called his "reality distortion field," Jobs also demanded the impossible of his employees. He didn't let what "couldn't be done" distract him from his vision: if he wanted it, then he believed it was possible and his people simply weren't working hard enough to find it. More often than not, at the risk of being his next target, they found a way to get it done.

Jobs felt "that the world will be a better place with Apple in it," and he made that world a reality. With intolerance for failure and keen tunnel vision on the goal, he got exactly what he was chasing in his professional life.