leadership

Putting the “me” in “mess”

/ jerrythinks / 1 Comment

It was the final frame of the 2012 U.S. Open Bowling Championship in my childhood home state of New Jersey. Bowling legend Pete Weber was poised to clinch his 5th championship title, and a strike here would crown him bowling king once again, by a one-pin margin. Weber slipped three of his fingers into the holes of his perfectly weighted, balanced, and shined bowling ball. All during the championship, and as he made his approach on this historic frame that would decide the outcome of the tournament, Pete Weber had in his mind (and ears) a young heckler (unidentified to this day) who jeered at him. Unphased, Pete Weber maintained his steely focus on the 10 pins at the end of that finely oiled lane; pins that were doing their own heckling of Pete Weber.

Moments later, Pete Weber celebrated a perfect strike and, in exuberant celebration, gave the sporting world one of the greatest, most bizarre, most perfect-fitting exclamations of victory ever to be uttered:

“WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? I AM!”

It’s a messy, awkward, nonsensical declaration that somehow fit the personality of Pete Weber and the alpha-male moment perfectly. But still…it was just…odd.

I appreciate how AI took this statement of Weber’s and straightens things out with a more logical explanation:

“Who do you think you are?” Implies that the person believes they are bigger than what they are. It elicits the thought of a powerful person. “I am” confirms that I am, in fact, who you think you are.

What’s the moral to this story, and why am I telling you about it? It’s because it’s the perfect reminder that people are messy. If you’re going to interact with other people, you’re going to get mess on your hands. It’s not a matter of if, but when. And when is always either “now” or “very very soon.”

I remember the moment in my life when I realized that people are messy. I don’t think I’ve ever shared this story with anyone. Somehow, this morning it slipped back into my consciousness, and with it, a trickling of some childhood emotions.

In elementary school (sixth grade, I think, which in those days was still elementary school), I had a really good classmate and friend named Jeff. We played trumpets together in the elementary school band, and we just got along really well. We were always joking around, laughing, and making the best of our school day. Jeff had become a good, positive, pleasant, and fun part of my school day as a young boy. We didn’t do much together outside of our school day, but when we were there together, it was always a good time.

Then one day I happened to see Jeff at a small shopping plaza–the Acme shopping plaza, I believe–in the little town of North Cape May, New Jersey, where I grew up. When I saw Jeff in that context, he wasn’t the Jeff I knew from school. He wasn’t smiling or even friendly. In fact, he was aggressive. He seemed angry. And in a matter of moments, became violent. I recall him pushing me, as if to invoke some kind of fighting response from me. I had no training either in self-defense or even about what to do in such a situation. He kept pushing me as I kept trying to get away from him.

This is part of the front of that old Acme shopping plaza, now vacant.

My young mind was racing, confused, and frightened at what was happening to me in that moment, in broad daylight on the cement walkway that ran along the front of that shopping plaza. What had I done wrong? Nothing I could think of. Why was Jeff acting this way? I had no earthly idea. I simply wanted to get away from this person, whom until that moment I had considered a good friend.

I understood in that moment for the first time, that people aren’t always easy to understand. That people aren’t always going to do what you expect or think they should. That, in short, people are messy.

My time in ministry for over three decades now has only served to support this truth. I know that anytime we’re interacting with others, we can count on it statistically that a mess is going to emerge. There’ll be some miscommunication, some misunderstanding, or even some perceived hurtful thing that happens or gets said. If you don’t believe me or agree, you’ve likely never had a conversation with anyone at any time about anything. For those of you who have, you’re nodding your head in agreement.

One of the most critical components of mess management, however, begins with the first two letters of “mess”: me. I should never have as my default setting the idea that when a mess arises, it certainly can’t be because of me. A healthy stance to take when interacting with any mess is to ask questions like, “What part do I have in this?” or even “What have I done–even inadvertently–that has contributed to the mess at hand?” Simply put: “What ownership do I need to take when it comes to the current mess?”

Here’s what that kind of honest vulnerability will do:

  1. It will make you humble and approachable, two qualities that do what nothing else can.
  2. It will disarm and diffuse the tendency for blame-laying over responsibility-taking.
  3. It will level the field in terms of anyone involved, allowing everyone to work together.
  4. It focuses energy on solutions rather than causes. (Not that fact-finding isn’t important.)
  5. It creates malleability instead of rigidity. Being malleable is a key ingredient to resolving messes.

So the next time you encounter a mess, don’t do anything before you remember the “me” in the mess.

Before shoving someone down a cement walkway, take stock of where the “me” in the mess is. When you do, reach out to me and tell me what transpired and what you learned from it.

Case in point: This morning, I have on my mind a situation that just happened this past weekend. I had an understanding of something that I thought was clearly planned and settled, and yet someone else had a different version of reality. At a certain point, those two perceptions of reality–mine and theirs–collided and made a small mess. Thankfully, it was easily rectified and we moved forward, but I had to do the work of mentally reviewing the situation, and thinking intentionally about my part in what had transpired.

I was tempted to dig in my heels, doubling down on my version of what was supposed to happen, but when faced with a different version, I chose instead to believe the best in the other person and give way to a different route. Then in quick hindsight, revisit the situation to see what can be learned and strengthened in me and my leadership. I hope this brief example can help put skin on the concept of effective mess management.

Growing Down

/ jerrythinks / 1 Comment

After a quarter of a century in fulltime ministry, I have to admit something. I don’t believe in aspiring to growth the way it seems most churches and ministry leaders do. I don’t see Jesus pushing the purpose of bigger and better. I don’t read one single verse where we’re called to upsize anything. How then have we gotten caught up in idolizing and emulating those who we deem are “doing it right” by virtue of their mega-size and seemingly impactful ministry platform?

I’ll refrain from naming names, but I’d bet you know of one or two. We have celebritized men and women who should never have been placed under the weight of that kind of attention, adoration, and scrutiny and then wonder why they collapse under that weight. We shake our heads, wag our fingers, and marvel at what must’ve gone wrong. When in all likelihood, what “went wrong” (at least in part) was us; placing them on a pedestal.

So I look at the gospels and I see Jesus teaching, talking, healing, hearing, sharing, and serving. But in my own ministry attitude I have to tell you that humanly speaking, I feel much better when the room is full then when its not full. I have to confess that it feels much more like “God is moving” when its standing room only instead of a sparse crowd. Its only natural, right? And to some degree, I think that’s the fallacy: That we place natural metrics on supernatural ministry.

One particular passage of scripture comes to mind. Look at John 6. Start in verse 25 and just ride it to the end. Or read the whole chapter. So much is going on here, but let me get to the point. It is beginning around verse 60 that we start to see things unravel. In our current American church perspective, we’d equate this to Jesus’ ministry effectiveness winding down or coming to a close. We might even say the wheels were falling off and it might be time for Jesus to dust off the resume or find another job. After all, those who once followed Him are now taking off and turning away. What He was teaching was too far. Too much. Too crazy to swallow. So an entire crowd of disciples basically said, “Its been real. Peace out.”

Notice that there’s nothing to indicate that this was a bad thing. Jesus didn’t panic (yes, I know He never does), He didn’t circle the wagons and try and strategize on how to get these deserters back. He didn’t make follow up calls or conduct exit interviews. He simply turned to His still-following followers and asked “What about you?”

Three simple words that speak absolute volumes and give us a clear view into Jesus’ heart on people and ministry effectiveness. Let’s get this straight: Jesus just watched swaths of people turn tail and walk away from Him. Mere minutes prior, a large crowd was there and now only a few are left. I’ve seen people walk away from church and faith for some–let’s be real–stupid, asinine reasons. But to look Jesus Himself in the face and turn away from Him? Can you even imagine that?

I used to hang my hat on the latest number of young people that showed up to the event I planned. I used to allow my sense of momentum to be linked to what I saw instead of what I knew. I used to measure “success” on how many were coming instead of how many were being sent out. But growing down ministry seems to be more in line with scripture. Let me pound this out and see if there’s anything to it. Hang in there with me and add your thoughts in the comments section.

I know about the early Church in Acts. I know that thousands were added to their number of various occasions. I understand fully what Jesus meant when He gave us our “Great Commission”; “…Go and make disciples of all the nations…” ALL the nations? Sure seems like bigger and better talk, right? Sure seems like worldwide coverage is the focus here, right? Sure seems like a bigger crowd of disciples is far better than a smaller crowd of disciples, doesn’t it? Sure it does.

And let me add something just by way of full disclosure. I’m currently serving at a far-bigger-than-average local church in central Virginia. I love it. I love the people. I love the students. I love the scope of ministry we have. I love the many doors in our community that God has opened. You’ll not hear me say one disparaging thing against our church or any church for that matter. But I will say that our ministry worth and fruitfulness doesn’t rest on how big the crowd is. Quite the opposite actually. It rests on the fact that we prize eyeball to eyeball interaction, disciplemaking, and worship above all else. We view growing down and increasing personal accountability, fellowship, and Kingdom teamwork far more important than being known, noticed, or applauded. The church I serve at will likely never even blip the radar of popularized Christian spotlight on the national or global scale. And I’d dare say we’re 1000% fine with that.

To bring it back to my personal convictions… I, as a pastor to students, don’t seek ways we can get bigger. I seek ways we can more effectively reach and disciple young people. I’m not looking for the increase. I’m looking for God’s next opportunity to love and serve anybody anywhere. In 1 Corinthians 3, Paul reminded us, “What then is Paul? Who is Apollos?…” He was saying that the servant isn’t even an issue. There’s no aspiration in the servant’s heart for anything but that his/her master would say “Well done.” I have zero investment of energy, emotion, or time in making a name for myself. To do so is to undermine the calling God has placed on my life. He called me to serve people, not to build my own platform. I reject the ideology that says “But if you invest in self promotion you’ll get a bigger platform and be able to reach more people.” The logic might be sound, but haven’t we seen enough times where that seems to go horribly sideways? I’ll ALWAYS see out the opportunities that God might be opening so that I can serve more people, but that will NEVER be my ministry motivation.

So yes, I’m in full endorsement of growing down. I’m in complete lockstep with Jesus’ perspective of challenging the resolve and conviction of those who were following Him, and I’ll sleep soundly at night regardless of the latest reports, analytics, or likes on my posts.