Leaders need to submit themselves to a stricter discipline than is expected of others. Those who are first in place must be first in merit.
Leadership, as we have seen, is both something you are and something you do. But effective leadership starts with character. When leaders fail, more often it is a result of a character flaw than lack of competence.
The aim of any Christian is to mature, to conform more and more to the image of Christ. This character development is especially important for leaders. And it’s a process, not a plateau where we sit down to rest. Leaders who last don’t stop growing; they continue to stretch themselves.
How do we discuss such an intangible personal quality? It’s not impossible.
Growth must be seen as a whole. I wonder sometimes what we would look like if our mental, emotional, and spiritual aspects were as visible as our physical bodies. I suspect many of us would be distorted, misshapen, even grotesque. Some people develop their minds to the neglect of their social and emotional health. Others spend so much time studying the Bible that the rest of their lives are stunted.
Maturity is balanced growth. It’s obviously difficult to measure, but here are several disciplines necessary for healthy growth. They can serve as a checklist to make sure we’re maturing in all areas of life.
The Discipline of Freedom
Some pastors I know feel trapped—I’m called by God to do this, but I don’t like certain aspects of the job, and I don’t feel free to change them. This depresses them almost monthly.
They feel like slaves to the church, and slaves have very few options. They have emotional options, of course—they can be dedicated, enthusiastic, willing to use their best talents, or they can drag their feet and be insolent and difficult to get along with. But internal control is about the only control slaves have.
When feeling trapped, the key is to recognize you’re serving the wrong master. Pastors, as I mentioned earlier, are to be slaves of Christ, not slaves of the church. This freedom to serve Christ alone, however, requires discipline. It comes with a price. All freedom does.
One of my wife’s friend’s once told her, “Your husband has more freedom to express his opinion than anybody I’ve ever met.”
Mary Alice replied, “He pays a price for it.” It’s true. Mavericks must accept the price of being a maverick. So must pastors who want to be free to serve Christ alone. It’s dishonest to want the benefits without paying the price.
A lot of people try to lease freedom instead of buying it. Leasing—trying in small ways to be something you’re not in order to please people—is cheaper. It provides some breathing room. But by leasing, you never gain ultimate freedom. Freedom cannot be leased; it must be purchased, and you buy it at a price you do not set. You decide to have it, and then you pay whatever it costs. If you try to acquire it at your own price, you’re leasing.
The price of freedom to serve Christ alone is often your willingness to be disliked. It may cost you your job. It may cost you relationships. You may be ostracized by your peers.
I was approached by an active Christian man about serving on the board of his organization. I said, “You don’t want me, because I would see my responsibility to the organization and not to you. You couldn’t count automatically on my vote.” I was insisting on my freedom to discharge my responsibility.
He agreed I wasn’t who he wanted for this position.
This desire for total freedom has to be tempered, however. Freedom is not irresponsibility. Freedom is an environment in which you discharge your responsibility. I believe one reason for America’s productivity is that for the first time in history, responsible people have lived in an environment of freedom. The Puritan conscience was responsible—you have a talent, you’re responsible for it, and one day you’ll stand before God and be judged. When that was placed into an environment of freedom, it became tremendously productive.
We’ve seen this more recently with the boat people from Southeast Asia. They come into freedom with a sense of responsibility and the desire to get ahead, and they succeed.
One way I’ve discovered to remain responsible is by retaining my first love for Christ.
An executive friend and I were going on a business trip to Italy. He was a rock climber, very macho and profane. I said to myself, This is going to be bad. He’s not a believer. He’s going to chase every skirt he can see. But by the end of the trip, he had never looked at a woman or made a single suggestive comment. As we were seeing the sights, he kept saying, “I wish my wife could see this.” Every day he wrote her. I realized he was totally in love with his wife, and it protected him from any other woman. He wasn’t even tempted. By being a slave, totally committed to one person, he was totally free. I realized that only in total slavery do we have total freedom. I believe Paul experienced this as a “bond slave of Christ.”
The more total we can make our commitment to Christ, the freer we are. We discipline our desires. We discipline our natural inclination for freedom without responsibility. Freedom carries certain restraints.
To be candid, however, only a few pastors have complete freedom to serve Christ alone. Most have to balance their freedom with the constraints of the congregation and denomination. To be free, you have to be such a superior performer that others let you control the situation. Otherwise you settle for a lesser degree of freedom. If you have the biggest church in the denomination, the denominational leaders have more difficulty limiting your freedom. They need you more than you need them. That luxury, of course, comes only to a few.
The rest of us must settle for lesser degrees of freedom. As one of my pastor friends puts it, “You have to decide how much of your soul you’re going to sell to stay in this work.”
That’s not as crass a statement as it sounds. Pragmatism has a certain integrity of its own. One of the first requirements of a leader is to stay a part of the community he’s leading. Politicians say the number one requirement is getting elected. Even the most noble politicians can’t represent their constituents’ needs if they’re not in office. Likewise, pastors may compromise a certain degree of their personal freedom, and do so with integrity, because they know the difference between long-term and short-term victory. Staying part of the community may be more important than insisting on their way over any given single issue.
Maybe an example from a different sphere will help. Even during an epidemic, a doctor has to sleep. Some individuals may die while he sleeps, but if he doesn’t rest, he’ll weaken himself and catch the disease, and more people will die while he’s out sick. Therefore, while some may criticize the doctor for sleeping, the larger picture calls for a different view of the facts. So, too, pastors may have to balance their freedom in light of the total ministry. Only shortsighted people see each moral decision as an isolated incident. The discipline of freedom is remembering the long-term goal, not sacrificing it for the short-term satisfaction of winning a battle but alienating the congregation.
At the same time, we resist the temptation to do everything with one eye on congregational approval. Like my traveling companion in Italy, we have a prior commitment elsewhere, to Christ, that keeps us on course.
The Discipline of Emotions
Emotions can be hazardous to your leadership and productivity. I call certain feelings “blocking emotions” because they hinder performance.
Lust, for instance, is a blocking emotion. It blocks your relationship with God. David discovered that. It causes your relationship with your family to deteriorate. It tarnishes your self-respect. It also spoils your concentration, and the ability to concentrate is one of the greatest attributes of a leader. Intensity is like using a magnifying glass with the sun—you can burn a hole in something that way. Organizations are almost always in the hands of the intense. These people eventually take over.
Greed is another blocking emotion. It makes you rationalize all sorts of unreasonable things.
Another common blocking emotion, however, is what I call a “blue funk”—when you find yourself dragging mentally and emotionally. You can’t lead effectively when you’re depressed, and yet these moods are a recurring part of life.
The other night I came home tired. After dinner I sat down and went to sleep in the chair. I woke up two hours later good for nothing. In situations like this, I go through a series of temptations. One is to go to bed, but I know I don’t need that much sleep. Another is to look in the refrigerator for something to eat, but I think, I’m gaining weight now. I shouldn’t eat that stuff. Then another temptation is to start an argument with my wife. I don’t feel good, so why should anybody else? But it’s got to be a good righteous fight—”What? You’re watching television again?” Or, “I worked real hard today. What did you do?” And suddenly two civilized people are into an uncivilized fight.
Other people can’t bring you out of a blue funk; it takes self-discipline. Unless you find a way to interrupt the blue mood, you fritter away the evening waiting until you can justify going to bed. But you wake up the next morning feeling slightly guilty, unrefreshed, and the day is off to a bad start.
I have found a way to break that cycle. Blue funks generally happen when I do not have anything exciting to do after dinner. One of my disciplines is to try to have something planned immediately after dinner. I save little tasks I want to do or articles I want to read, to get me going during these down times. I enjoy little mechanical jobs, for instance. Often when I feel dull of mind, a little physical activity is a pick-me-up.
Certain kinds of reading also give me a lift. Sometimes I need a small amount of inspirational material, which I see as the printed equivalent of a Hershey bar—one is great, downing three would be a chore. I love to read Oswald Chambers’s My Utmost for His Highest. He’s always been illuminating to me. Not just the old inspirational froth that “you can do anything you want to do.”
I enjoy short biographies. I’m not interested in four hundred pages on someone, but I do collect three- or four-page summaries of the lives of the great accomplishers. One of the great poets, Gamaliel Bradford, had vertigo so badly that he would even fall off chairs, but he never let it keep him from writing poetry. I begin to see that greatness comes only at a tremendous price. I’ll read what Wagner wrote to Liszt, describing how wretched he felt and wondering if death wouldn’t be preferable to living, but then he says, “But of course, that has nothing to do with the composing of my music.” You see the intensity of an Einstein or a Newton; anything they observe gets put into a pattern. It’s hard to remain lackadaisical and self-pitying when you meet people like that.
I’ve also found reviewing quotes helpful. A great quote is like a log coming along for a tired swimmer—it can help keep you afloat. I came across something Schubert wrote: “My music is the child of my gift and misery. Strangely enough the public seems to enjoy most the music I wrote at my most miserable times.” I begin to see that the greats have produced in very difficult times. Or you might read of Tchaikovsky putting a sign on his gate: visiting hours monday and tuesday between 3 and 5 p.m. other times please do not ring. He was saying, “I’m a composer. This is how I’m going to bless the world—not by idle conversation.” You see the discipline of the man. So when I find these kinds of good reading, I squirrel them away.
Another tool that works for me is the telephone. Two things I appreciate about the phone: (1) you don’t have to answer it when it rings, and (2) you can call friends when you need help.
If you were out of gas, whom would you call? The service station. I know people who are like service stations—full of fuel. When I call them, all I have to say is “What’s exciting today?” They’re off and running. I don’t have to say, “I’m overworked and depressed.” I just have to ask what they’re involved in, and just by listening to them, I get motivated. I’ve tried to develop a list of such people just for the down times.
If all else fails, however, and I’m still in a blue funk, I leave the house, go to a busy restaurant, have a cup of coffee, and watch people. I’m about half-dead when I’m in a funk, and that puts me among the living. I see something interesting. I see some kids who make me very proud of mine. I see people with problems I don’t have. I begin to regain a sense of gratitude. I get a couple of thoughts about something I’m working on. I’m moving back toward normal.
Then I try to do something positive. Late one evening, I went to the all-night supermarket and bought Mary Alice a pot of white chrysanthemums. When I got home, she was still awake and appreciated even a small gift like this. (Anything that marks my return to civility is very much appreciated.) Seeing her happy, I went to my study and worked until 2 a.m. with a lot of zest.
After several hours of highly productive work, I can go to bed not requiring a lot of sleep because I’ve gotten energy from the positive experience.
Different stimuli work for different people, but the important thing is simply to find that first little push that starts you back—something you’ve wanted to accomplish, something to be grateful for, doing something for somebody else. Like a solenoid in a car, these acts require very little power, but they release the greater energy of the entire engine.
It helps to understand that your mind runs in cycles; there will be ups and downs. When you’re in a blue funk, you think it will last forever, but it won’t. During those valleys, you can find ways to pull yourself through. It takes discipline, however. The great temptation is not to do it, because for some perverse reason, most of us like being cantankerous at times. Effective leaders can’t allow themselves that luxury too often.
The Discipline of Things
Leaders also have to come to terms, in a mature way, with possessions.
We live in a material world. That’s the way God created it. There’s nothing in the Christian faith that is antimaterial. The Garden of Eden was pretty lush. God gave wealth to Job. Joseph ended up in pretty comfortable circumstances. In fact, the early Christians opposed a heresy called Gnosticism, which claimed that material possessions were ungodly.
But if Christianity allows a place for the material, it is still antimaterialistic. When material things become a philosophy, a top priority, they become a stumbling block. Christians know material things are to be used for God’s glory. When they become a measurement of success or value, they’ve become something God never intended.
What is my relation to things? Here are some questions to check if I’m growing toward maturity in this area.
Am I using my possessions and not just accumulating them?
In most families, heirlooms lend tradition and give us roots. I’m very proud of two pictures that hung on the living room wall when I was a small child. When I look at those pictures today, I become again a member of my family. Though my parents are dead, when I look at those pictures, they live again. My brothers are at home with me. Those pictures are material things, and yet I don’t consider them materialistic things. They serve a healthy purpose.
Nor do I consider it materialistic to accumulate some things for our children to inherit. We recently bought six pieces of Cybis porcelain, some of the finest made. I was very conscious of the cost, but I also wanted some things we could pass to our children and they could pass to their children. These kinds of things tie the generations together.
Can I enjoy them and honestly thank God for them? I couldn’t honestly thank God for a fifth of Jack Daniel, for instance. Maybe some people can, but I could not. Therefore it is not for me.
Am I able to share them? I love to go to a magnificent home of someone who has the gift of hospitality. I may never want such a home, but by sharing they’ve ministered to me.
I was traveling in Mexico one time and was offended to see, in a dusty, poverty-stricken town, a beautiful cathedral. I asked the priest how such a structure could be built amid such misery.
“Mr. Smith,” he said. “The only thing of beauty these people can afford is what they have corporately. None of them alone can have anything beautiful, but together they can have this cathedral.”
That changed my attitude. I wondered how I could have thought of taking it away from them. Yes, it could be knocked down, divided into rice and beans, and everyone could eat well for a year or so. But the rest of their lives would be impoverished because they didn’t have something of beauty. By cooperation they created a treasure for all.
Am I able to give? Anytime I am less than generous with the things I have, I am less than Christian. Giving is the only antidote I know for greed. When we give things away, freely, without expecting in return, we help prevent ourselves from becoming possessed by possessions.
The Discipline of Recognition
It’s important to get strokes, to be recognized for what we do well. The apostle Paul was constantly recognizing people for what they did. I’m always leery of an executive who says, “Don’t brag on your employees; they’ll want a raise.” There’s something mean about that attitude. Recognition is important.
But we need discipline in deciding what kind of recognition we’re going after. What kinds of strokes do we appreciate?
Woodrow Wilson said, “Many men are seduced by secondary success.” Small successes prevent them from achieving big success. They’re satisfied too easily.
I knew a runner in high school who set a national record, but he never followed through. He could have qualified for the Olympics, but he didn’t want to pay the price. He had already succeeded.
Promotion is a form of recognition. But it takes more than a title to truly say, “I fill this position.” Effective leaders are not satisfied once they’ve gained the title.
A pretty young girl said to her mother, “I get so tired of people saying I’m pretty. I wish they realized there was more to me than that.” She wanted different recognition. She will have to augment the way she presents herself. She’ll know she’s succeeding if people begin to say, “She’s not only pretty, she’s smart.” She will help develop the kind of recognition she prefers.
Some who are considered smart may want to develop wisdom. As people start commenting on their wisdom in handling life situations, they will know they’re making progress.
A helpful exercise is to write down three words by which your friends describe you. And then write down three words you would most like to describe you. Then you can work on making those traits so prominent in your life that people can’t keep from recognizing them.
Early in my life I chose seven qualities I wanted to develop. One, for instance, was objectivity; another was intellectual integrity. Then I got pictures of seven men I thought personified each of these traits and hung them on my wall as a continual reminder.
Leaders need to know what kind of recognition they’re after, and can’t be too easily satisfied.
The Discipline of Accomplishment
Closely related to recognition is accomplishment. I believe productivity—contributing to the community—is essential for mental and spiritual health. It is certainly true for leaders.
I was talking with one couple about their twenty-two-year-old son. They said, “He’s not doing anything right now; he’s waiting to find the will of God.”
“Is he working?” I asked.
“No.”
“Is he eating?”
“Yes.”
I said, “Tell him he’s violating the will of God right now. Scripture says if you don’t work you don’t eat.”
I doubt he accepted that theological position, but work is scriptural; it connects us with the community. Exercising our gifts, contributing them to the body of Christ, is the primary source of our identity. Productivity is the rent we pay for our space on earth.
Obviously, there are different kinds of productivity. One can contribute to temporal things or eternal things. Christians should be involved with both.
Accomplishments come in two kinds: external and internal. Most of us concentrate on externals—our jobs, our acquisitions. But internal accomplishments are equally important.
Developing emotional stability, for instance, is a tremendous accomplishment. You don’t do that overnight. People who learn to control their tongue, Scripture says, are “greater than he that taketh a city,” which gives some indication how God compares internal accomplishment with external accomplishment.
Other people fight melancholia. Dr. Samuel Johnson said that when he was fifteen, he found he had a disease of the spirit. And yet he did so much, working around that handicap.
When you see people like Joni Eareckson living so productively despite her handicaps, or Ken Medema singing and writing music despite his blindness, you recognize that the internal accomplishments are as great as the external.
Leaders are aware of many different kinds of accomplishments and encourage them in themselves and in their followers.
The Discipline of Experiences
Life, like a river, is more easily navigated if it has numerous tributaries. The more sources, the deeper and broader it becomes.
People who are mentally healthy, according to a Menninger Clinic study, get their stimulation from a variety of sources, not just one or two. Sometimes Christians are tempted to be narrow—spending all their time talking only to Christian friends.
Frank Gaebelein, however, was an example of vigorous mental health. He was a Christian, a scholar, a mountain climber, a musician. He drew from varied experiences. To me, he’s a great illustration of a mature Christian leader.
But in addition, I find it helpful to write down experiences, lest I forget them and lose their benefit. My wife has a wonderful practice of writing down every clever thing our grandchildren say. She now has a whole book of them. Along with an album of pictures, we have an album of family sayings. Thanks to her record, we can relive those moments and benefit from them again and again.
Leaders find that having, and recording, a wide variety of experiences is immensely helpful to their vitality.
The Discipline of Ideas
Small minds talk about things; average minds talk about people; great minds talk about ideas.
Minds grow as they grapple with ideas, and leaders monitor the kinds of ideas they are handling.
Are you interested in ideas? Are you fascinated by what you read in the paper beyond the crime stories and comics? When Stephen Hawking talks about the black holes of space, or when Einstein writes about gravity as the distortion between time and space, does your horizon broaden with fascination?
I’m always pleased to meet some person of unusual mental attainment just to measure myself alongside him. Can I understand him? Can I keep up? I don’t get envious or say, “Why didn’t God give me that talent?” I’m just happy to know that people like that exist, and I can know them.
One of the measures of maturity is whether our ideas are growing, whether we’re able to handle larger concepts, and whether we’re comfortable with people who think.
The Discipline of Relationships
Relationships are obviously both the personal and professional concern of the leader.
First, your relationship to yourself. Jean Paul Sartre was once quoted as saying, “If you’re lonely when you’re alone, you’re in poor company.”
I visited a magnificent home built in a remote part of the Colorado Rockies. It was so quiet you could hear the paint drying on the wall. I thought to myself, Only a person at peace with himself could own a home like this. In that kind of magnificent quiet, you have time to be alone with yourself. And you’d have to be able to enjoy the company. You’d have to be satisfied with the way you are growing. You could not have your external success eating up your internal being.
That’s one of the tests of maturity: the ability to be alone and at peace with yourself.
A second test deals with relationships with other people: Am I increasingly able to spend time profitably with people who are different? Immature individuals can’t enjoy people who are different. They prefer people just like themselves. Maturity is being comfortable with diversity.
Finally, we must evaluate the development of our relationship with God. Is my walk with God more comfortable? More intimate? More real?
I had a friend who lost contact with God. The problem was this: instead of confessing, he was explaining. God is not very interested in our explanations. He knows why we do what we do. He doesn’t need our rationalizing. But God is a marvelous listener to our confessions.
I’ve discovered I can explain things to God for years, but only when I get around to saying, “Mea culpa—I’m guilty,” does my relationship with God begin to grow again. Relation grows out of confession.
Unless we can lead ourselves through these essential disciplines, we will have difficulty leading others. Having established this foundation, however, we can turn to another crucial battleground for leaders—the way we spend our time.
Copyright © 1986 by Christianity Today
