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.

Christ and Compromise

There are times when a middle ground  makes sense. Our political environment would do well to find compromise, solving verbose battles with quiet, level heads behind the scenes while the diatribe-laden "party leaders" fight it out on cable news. Personal relationships of all kinds are often called to follow the advice of the catchy country song, "You start walking your way, I'll start walking mine. We'll meet in the middle . . ." in order to survive. The business environment is fraught with such deals as well. The middle ground is often a place of progress and peace.

It does not, however, belong in the theology of a church.

I got myself worked up when reading a commentary piece by Jon Meacham in this week's Time Magazine regarding the strategy the Anglican church is taking regarding it's stance on a controversial doctrine. One sentence in particular stood out: the bishop had met with former Secretary of State James Baker and the two "agreed to think out possible diplomatic solutions to the crisis."

Diplomatic solutions? Is that the goal now? Diplomacy? Safety? Peace?

Meacham praises this approach through a muddled argument of needing to value some Scripture over others and to evaluate church doctrine in light of history. While I find Meacham to be a thoughtful and skilled writer, and though I have great respect for the tradition of the Anglican Church, I see this goal of diplomacy a severe divergence from Christ.

Christ was anything but diplomatic. Christ overturned tables, chastised, and challenged, boldly declaring "My way or no way." His love was (and is unconditional), but so was his Truth. He was unwavering in his commitment to the will of His Father. He may be known as the Prince of Peace, but He refused to gain that peace through compromise.

Diplomacy is for church league softball, musical choices, and deciding which brownies to serve at the church potluck, not for theology. There is one standard, set by God. The bishop, as a leader, is responsible for passionately, exhaustively, and humbly seeking out truth, valuing that, and communicating it to his followers. Whatever that truth is, on any issue, to that he must cling. If he wants diplomacy, perhaps leading Christ-followers is the wrong position in which to be.

Umpiring Notes

I've already written about what I learned from basketball camp in the month of June, but I find it relevant to write a little about my high school baseball umpiring experience as well.

Being an umpire now for 8 summers has made me a better coach, and being a coach has made me a significantly better umpire. I'm better at each because I'm able to effectively put myself in the shoes of the other. I know how coaches want to be treated, and I know how umpires want to be spoken to. The coach-umpire relationship is fraught with conflict, disagreement, and emotion; yet the good ones (coaches and umpires) find a way to make that relationship work despite the obstacles. Looking at what it takes to make this work provides some keys for all of us who must deal with difficult people in difficult circumstances.

The first question that must be asked in any confrontational situation is this: Why are you talking? Seriously, what's your goal? As an umpire I tell coaches over and over again that they can ask me anything they want to when we're face to face. They can even tell me I'm wrong. I might be. But if they ask the question from the dugout, or from the third base line, they aren't asking to gain understanding; they aren't trying to fix the problem. All of a sudden, they're trying to create a show for the audience. The only reason to shout from 90 feet away is so that others can see you; and if that's the case, then you've already decided that you're right and the other person is against you. I've also seen some umpires say some pretty dumb things as well. The bad ones talk when they don't need to. They're trying to be cute, or garner favor with coaches, or establish that there will be no relationship and no communication because they've already decided that they're always right and above reproach. It's a stupid way to go, if the goal is effective communication and a relationship that works. It's equally stupid everywhere else besides athletic contests as well. 

Secondly, you've got to realize the goal of the one with whom you're speaking. A coach's goal is to win. Every time. An umpire's goal is to go unnoticed by doing their job well. If both the coach and the umpire can keep in mind the main goal of the other, it washes over a number of sins. If coaches know I'm working hard to do my job well as an umpire, yet I happen to miss a call, they'll get over it. If officials know I'm spending countless hours trying to find a way to win, causing me to make comments I shouldn't, they'll work with me. And if coaches and umpires both understand that they share the goal of participating in a well-played, fair competition for teenage athletes, then all the better. You've got to know where the other person is coming from in order to make it work.

Finally, a short memory is key. I miss calls. I run my mouth from the sidelines. I'm less than perfect in both my athletic jobs. So is everyone else. We can either forget the mistakes and move on, working together towards our shared goal, or we can hold on to wrongs and never effectively work together. It's really tough to forget when you think someone wronged you (see my last post). It's tougher trying to go through life seeking perfect people to work with and share your life with.

Whether in a theological debate, a lovers quarrel, next to a co-worker, or speaking with your kids, I think these ideas are instructive. Speak to gain understanding without putting on a show, realize the goals of those in the conversation, and forget a lot. You may not like who you're working with by the end of it, but you may just have given yourself the opportunity to get what want.

Remember Me Not: What I'm Learning From the Life of Steve Jobs

I'm currently reading the biography on Steve Jobs that came out within the last year. I'm only about 125 pages into it (it runs 600 pages), but it's striking how many people remember just how big of a jerk he was.

Right now I'm up to the late 70's and early 80's when Apple was growing and began creating the Macintosh computer. The author performed most of the interviews for this book in the last couple of years. In vivid detail, over and over and over again, the people who worked with him recall specific ugly events from three decades ago. Some remember how innovative he was, even back then; but those memories are drowning in a sea of angry anecdotes.

I don't write this to throw Steve Jobs under the bus. I never met him. I hear he had an amazing mind and revolutionized industries that I don't understand. He was human. But the point here, is clear: people remember the ugly stuff. In bright, colorful (and likely exaggerated) detail, they can still see in their minds the time that you said. . . whatever it was you shouldn't have. And whether or not they respect you or forgive you, they're going to remember when you were at your worst.

I find this especially relevant to coaches. I can't count the number of times I've heard people, especially adults long past their athletic endeavors, recount the time that some coach said this or that, shattered their spirit, and screwed them over. That coach committed the unforgivable sin of saying the wrong thing. Once. Maybe twice. But once or twice is enough to be remembered for a lifetime.

It's not just coaches, though, that are in this boat. We all are. I had one superintendent who was good to me for most of three years; but in his last year working with me, he lied to my face. I haven't forgotten it. I've had friends, past and present, who were great 99% of the time. I've forgotten some of the good; but even though the past is done and there are no grudges, I can still remember the few times I've felt wronged. And I know there are countless students, athletes, co-workers, and friends who will probably remember me the way Steve Jobs' co-workers and friends remembered him.

This is unavoidable, but it doesn't have to be prevalent. Knowing this about human nature, be careful. Today's words matter. Before that first cup of coffee, speak less. When angry or in confrontation, choose words carefully. If you're in a position of authority or influence, demand of yourself to be "on" all the time. Actions may speak louder than words, but words are usually remembered longer when they're the wrong ones.