Abundant Living Vol. XX, Issue 12

 

“I hereby put you in charge of the whole land of Egypt.”  – Genesis 41:41 

Call George!  Why George?  Because when someone asked George to do something, or when George was given responsibility, you could “take it to the bank” as they say, that it would get done right and on time.  George lived by the principles which Dan Sullivan described in his book How the Best Get Better as the “referability habits.”  That is, “show up on time, do what you say, finish what you start, say please and thank you.”

When George Woodley showed up at the doorstep of my dad’s business many years ago, fresh out of the army, newly married, and looking for work, it was a godsend.  My dad didn’t know that at the time, of course, but it didn’t take long before his work ethic, dependability, faithfulness, integrity, and capability became obvious.  It’s not unlike the Biblical story when Pharoah discovered similar qualities in a young Hebrew fresh out of prison named Joseph who he quickly promoted.  “I hereby put you in charge of the whole land of Egypt,” the Pharoah declared.  It didn’t take my dad long either to reach the same conclusion, promoting George and placing him in charge of the whole operation.

For the next twenty-two years, until the business was sold, my dad grew to depend on George more and more, for everything from managing the business to his personal life.  Whenever he needed help, or a problem solved, he knew he could depend on George.  Except, sometimes when overwhelmed by a problem he would forget, until my mother would remind him not to worry, “just call George.”  Eventually, he and his wife Ruth became like beloved members of our family and have remained so to this day.

I had a fantasy recently, imagining the Lord seeking my dad’s counsel.  Daddy just looked at the Lord and shrugged, “No problem,” he said, “just call George.”  “Good idea,” the Lord replied.  So, he called George – calling him home.  Oh, that everyone could be blessed with a George in their lives as our family has been all these years.  Even more, if only more of us would live by George’s example, a man full of years, married sixty-eight years to his high school sweetheart, Ruth, the love of his life, who together raised a fine family, was a faithful and dependable servant not just to my dad but to many; a good neighbor, a fine citizen, a man of deep faith and an impeccable reputation; one who if anyone ever needed anything, all they had to do was call George.

 


Abundant Living Vol. XX, Issue 11

“Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy. . . The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.”  – Psalm 126:2,3 

Army basic training, for those of us who have experienced it, is hardly a laughing matter; that is, unless you had the good fortune as I did to have a guy like Al Williams constantly at your side.  For eight weeks the two of us, because we were alphabetical – Williams and Wilson – stood side-by-side in formation, bunked next to each other in the barracks, and were training partners much of the time.  Al with his hilarious sense of humor kept me in stitches, making my boot camp a barrel of laughs instead of the grueling experience it could have been.  The most difficult thing I had to endure was keeping a straight face so I wouldn’t get yelled at for inappropriately busting out laughing over something he had just whispered to me while we were standing at attention.

For as long as I can remember Reader’s Digest magazine has included a joke section called “Laughter, the Best Medicine” which I believe to be true in that laughter has contributed to my own good health most of my life.  Even now, Tee and I start each day by chuckling over the comic section in the newspaper, and sometimes end the day by reading a few jokes before turning out the light from Garrison Keillor’s Pretty Good Joke Book, a copy of which I keep on the beside-table.  Laughter is indeed great medicine.

Life, as we all know, like basic training is at times no laughing matter . . . that is, unless you can see the humor in it.  Humor, though, is not about being less serious about life; rather it helps keep life and our role in it in perspective.  Even though my army buddy and I laughed our way through boot camp we did take the training with the life-and-death seriousness for which it was intended.

Humor and laughter are gifts from God, comical versions of our human failings, reminding us that only God is perfect, and we are not.  But God has a great ability to restore us from our imperfections, and when that occurs as the Psalmist reminds us, “Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy. . . The Lord has done great things for us, and we are filled with joy.”  Life is hardly a laughing matter; unless, of course, you happen to have God constantly by your side like Al Williams was to me in boot camp, bringing joy to our lives instead of the grueling experience it could be.


Abundant Living Vol. XX, Issue 10

“I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”  – Psalm 139:14 

It was our semi-annual visit to the home office in New York, my counterparts and I, where we would gather to meet with the boss, be brought up to date on new company policies, performance reviews and goals for the future, and to exchange ideas and best practices.  On this particular occasion we were each asked to give a presentation on our best marketing idea.  So, one at a time my colleagues dutifully stood before the group with their slick Power Point slides, handouts, and polished presentations.  But when it came my turn, I had prepared none of that.  Instead, I stood up and stated simply that my great team had developed a unique “personality,” one that projected trust, integrity, and a can-do spirit, and that is what attracted people to do business with us.  That was it.

In his acclaimed book The Road to Character, New York Times columnist David Brooks describes how there are two types of virtues, there are resume virtues and there are eulogy virtues.  “The resume virtues are the ones you list on your resume,” he writes, “the skills that you bring to the job market and that contribute to external success.”  Whereas the eulogy virtues are the ones “that get talked about at your funeral, the ones that exist at the core of your being – whether you are kind, brave, honest or faithful; what kind of relationships you formed.”

Unwittingly, my brief presentation about our team’s “personality” had veered into the “eulogy” lane, and that did not go over well with the boss who wanted to hear about specific actions – resume virtues – taken to promote ourselves and our products, and how those had translated into measurable results, something that would make him look good in front of his own superiors.  While eulogy virtues such as our team’s personality may be noble and true, and touch on the core of our being, neither did they produce anything quantifiable.  Yet it was the one thing that set us apart, that made us unique.

Each one of us, as the Psalmist recognizes, is “fearfully and wonderfully made.”  No one of us is like anyone else who ever lived.  We may acquire similar knowledge and learn similar skills as someone else, but the differentiator is in our uniqueness in how God created us, which is what my team had figured out.  It was the core of what made us successful, in ways not like anyone else.  And that was our great marketing secret.


Abundant Living Vol. XX, Issue 9

 “Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good.”  – Romans 12:21 

It was the first really stupid thing I ever remember doing, not that there were not many others prior to that, I was just too young to remember.  Even then I was only four, but I still remember every detail vividly.  My mother was heating some canned soup on her white enamel Frigidaire electric stove – Campbell’s Chicken and Rice, I remember distinctly – while I stood by and watched.  When the soup was hot and she turned off the burner I watched with fascination as its red glow faded away until it was grayish-black again.  That must mean it’s cool, I thought, so I touched it with my fingertips, despite being warned many times to never touch a hot stove.  I’m pretty sure the entire neighborhood could hear my screaming.  It was a painful way to learn a hard lesson.

There are many ways we can learn about dangers.  We can read about them in books or articles.  We can learn from the sad experience of someone else.  We can listen to wise counsel from someone who knows better, like my mom warning me about the hot stove.  Or we can put our hand on the hot burner, like I did.  Each provides the information; the only difference is the amount of pain involved in learning the lesson.

I wish I could say the hot stove incident was the last stupid thing I ever did that caused great pain, either at the time I committed it, or suffering the pain of regret later on.  Yet, and not to justify any of my past misdeeds, I do sometimes wonder what an arrogant, judgmental jerk I might have become had I been perfect and never messed up.  Instead, maybe it has made me a little more understanding toward others in their own failings, and even able to reach out and help someone from time to time.

The Apostle Paul says, “Do not be overcome be evil, but overcome evil with good.”  I think he may be referring not just to the evil others impose on us, but also our own mess-ups and the pain and regret we suffer as a consequence.  The way to overcome that, as Paul might advise, is not by wallowing in it, but using it for good.  Twelve-step programs around the world have proven this for decades through the action of one addict using his own brokenness to help another addict recover.  For Paul also tells us, “that in all things God works for the good of those who love him,” even our mess-ups, like when we ignore the warnings and put our hand on a hot stove, by overcoming those mess-ups with good.


Abundant Living Vol. XX, Issue 8

“Simply let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes’, and your ‘No’, ‘No’. . .   – Matthew 5:37 

Despite my carefully planned exit strategy from the corporate world a number of years ago, I was nevertheless left with some unexpected challenges.  Among them were: “What will be my next profession or career?” “How will I reclaim an identity now that I am no longer associated with my previous company and profession?”  “How will I fill up the abundance of newly acquired discretionary time I have on my hands?”  In an attempt to deal with these challenges, I found myself saying yes to everything.  Anytime someone asked me to serve on a board or committee or in some other voluntary capacity I said yes without hesitation.

That season of saying yes served me well for a time, helping me work through some of the challenges.  I discovered things about myself, gifts and talents I never knew I had, as well as identifying some things I am not so good at.  That time of deeper self-awareness is what eventually helped me identify a new profession to pursue, along with a fresh identity.  And as for all that abundance of discretionary time I had on my hands?  By that time it was filled to capacity.  That’s when I had to start learning to say no.

But for most of us saying no is difficult.  We perceive it as weakness, failure and letting people down.  And why is that?  Barbara Brown Taylor explains in her book An Altar in the World, that “in a ‘can do’ culture where the ability to do many things at a high speed is not only an adaptive trait but also the mark of a successful human being . . . [and] we harbor pride that we are in such high demand.”  Thus, when we don’t live up to the culture’s expectations, we feel guilty that we failed and let someone down.  Taylor, however, views it otherwise, that the ability to say no is in fact a discipline to be developed rather than avoided, what she refers to as “the practice of saying no.”

It occurred to me in reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s book that there is a time to say yes and a time to say no, and unless we engage in “the practice of saying no” we’ll never reach our full potential when we answer yes.  In my case, that season of saying yes to everything gave me a better sense about those things to which I should say no, as well as those to which I should say yes.  At that point, the decision became much less difficult.  “Simply let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes’, and your ‘No’, ‘No’”.