mistakes

Two Secrets of Good Leadership: Learning to Live with Other People's Pain and with Your Own Mistakes

By Derek Penwell

Two Keys to Good Leadership

Thesis: You can’t be a good leader until you get comfortable with other people’s pain and with your own mistakes.

Learning to Live with Other People’s Pain

I know about a church that developed some bad habits over the years. They had worked with a paradigm of ministry in which the minister was responsible for virtually everything. If a light bulb burned out in the exit sign, they dropped a note to the minister. When the lady who was supposed to bring the grape jello to Vacation Bible School forgot, everything stopped while they called the minister to let him know. When the garbage cans didn’t get put back, somebody would leave a message on the answering machine to apprise the minister of this crucial oversight.

And, as if by magic, new light bulbs and purple jello would appear. The garbage cans mysteriously found their homes. The minister made sure complaints were addressed and problems were solved. He did most of it himself.

The arrangement suited everybody—the minister had a compelling need to feel needed, and the congregation had a capacious reservoir of need. Everybody wins![1]

Except when the minister left, the arrangement was no longer viable. Now there was a congregation trained to be needy, but no longer anyone to meet those needs. How do you handle a situation like that?

What will the next minister have to do if she doesn’t want to continue this co-dependent relationship?

She’s going to have to develop an extraordinarily high tolerance for pain.

“What?”

Any minister who wants to make changes to a system that depends on the minister to make changes is going to have to get comfortable watching people suffer.

“How can you possibly say that? Isn’t suffering part of what ministers are supposed to be in the business of alleviating?”

No. Where did you get that idea? Ministers are in the business of helping equip people for the reign of God. Sometimes that means being intensely and pastorally present when people suffer. But pastoral ministry is almost never about fixing people’s suffering, about doing away with people’s anxieties, about slaying everyone’s dragons for them.

Pastoral ministry is about helping people discover a new story that makes sense of their suffering and anxiety (and hope, doubt, aspirations, needs, etc.) in light of God’s reconciling love manifested in Jesus Christ.

In the case I’ve been describing the new pastor, if she is going to be faithful to her vocation, is going to have to get comfortable with the pain caused when people see burned-out light bulbs, jello-less VBS extravaganzas, empty garbage cans by the side of the road, and mistakenly believe that the only person responsible for them is the minister.

“So, you’re saying the minister should just be lazy and let everybody else do everything?”

No. I’m saying that if everybody else believes the only person who needs to do anything is the one getting paid, you haven’t hired a minister; you’ve hired domestic help.[2] The minister isn’t doing anybody any favors by constantly rescuing the congregation from those situations for which other people need to be taking some responsibility.

Authentic, Jesus-centered ministry that seeks to enable growth rather than merely enable, requires learning to have a high threshold for other people’s pain.

It’s tough, but there aren’t any shortcuts.

Learning to Love Your Own Mistakes

I just took a group of people down to San Luis Potosí, México. We work in a children’s home there, started by Ted and Wanda Murray. I’ve been taking groups down for over 20 years now. The trip is one of my favorite things to do.

Anyway, I took my two oldest children again this year. My daughter wants to speak Spanish better to be able to communicate with the kids down there. So, I started her on a language series, The Pimsleur Method (It’s the best language learning system I’ve found, for whatever that’s worth).

So, I've been talking to my daughter about how her Spanish is progressing. She said she really likes the lessons. So, I gave her some tricks about learning a language.

“The nice thing about the Pimsleur method,” I said, “is that, if you do it daily, you wind up having to hear yourself speak the language out loud over and over again—which is important, because one of the biggest obstacles to speaking a foreign language when you travel is overcoming your fear of speaking out loud in front of other people.”

She said, “Yeah, that’s the scariest part, because you don’t want to goof up and have people laugh at you.”

“That’s the trick to learning a language, though—being able to withstand the embarrassment of getting it wrong. If you can’t stand being laughed at, you’ll never learn another language.”

Why is that?

Because the process of mastering a language requires making mistakes. Lots of mistakes. Tons of mistakes. Painful, embarrassing mistakes.

Learning a language is just as much about learning what not to say. There are no shortcuts to the hours of practice or the patience to endure the humiliation of doing it incorrectly.

I also think that’s another secret to good leadership.

Much of what passes for conventional wisdom about good leadership has to do with always making good decisions.

When presented with a choice, the good leader will choose X; the poor leader will choose Y—where X is eventually shown to be a wise decision, and Y a poor one.

I want to suggest, however, that making good decisions isn’t the best indicator of leadership. Instead, I think the sign of excellence in leadership is the desire to learn from mistakes.

If you’re going to learn to pound nails, you’re going to have to make peace with mashing your thumb every once in a while.

On this reading of leadership, excellence requires not only a willingness to be wrong, but an enthusiasm about being shown where you went wrong. Good leadership values being shown where things went wrong.

You can’t be a good leader without risking mistakes and embracing the humiliation of getting it wrong.

Here’s the secret: Ministry isn’t about being right; it’s about getting it right.

And if you want to get it right, you’d better learn to love your mistakes, because they’re your friends on the path to good leadership.

Good leadership is often counter-intuitive. But if it were easy, great leaders would be everywhere. They’re not. So, we have to work at it.

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  1. Before I get a whole bunch of email arguing either that I’m being unfair to to needy congregations or needy ministers, I’m willing to spread the blame across the clergy/laity spectrum.  ↩
  2. Again, prior to emailing me, let me hasten to say that I know there are lazy ministers out there. If that’s your problem, then this post won’t help you address your situation.  ↩

White Need to Talk About Race and Privilege

By J.C. Mitchell

I remember getting ready for school when I was a pre-teen on March 17.  I was certainly wearing green and then I put my favorite jacket as it was a chilly morning.  My mother was adamant I not wear the Mets jacket I wore most days.  She was yelling at me about wearing orange.  I argued that the jacket was blue and simply had orange lettering for the Mets, I was sure that was fine since it was clear I was wearing green and would take my jacket off when I would arrive at school.  My mom was not happy with me, and needless to say I went to school with an older jacket.  I knew we were Irish, but I had no clue about the Troubles and that Orange was the color of the Loyalists and Green the color of the Nationalists, and I certainly did not understand why that should matter in my Connecticut School.

I share this experience because I find it funny, and I believe my mother’s passion should be honored.  One should be proud of their heritage and should not forget the injustices and oppression of your ancestors, be it because of ethnicity, ability, sexuality, gender, skin color, or whatever I might have missed.  I believe there was certainly oppression to the Irish, and I had experienced some of this reality when I lived in Northern Ireland.  However, this reflection is not about The Troubles, or even about immigration; it is about being White.

I had no idea what it meant to be White, when I had to put my Mets jacket aside that day.  I thought I was White, but that was always defined against other people, specifically skin color and/or language--specifically Spanish, yet not those that spoke Castilian Spanish.  I learned between my argument with my mother and living in Belfast that Irish immigrants became White, and not simply because of our pink complexion.  There are certainly many social and political things that occurred that made me, my ancestors and my descendants, White.

However, of all of us that are now in the privileged status of White in the United States, we don’t talk about our inclusion in this label (and it is a label, but with much privilege).  We avoid the subject.  We often invite people that are not White to talk about this subject.  I have been at many conferences and assemblies where the conversation on race, immigration, ethnicity, or diversity is being ran by the small group of people assembled at the gathering that are not White. 

I remember watching the film Traces of the Trade. I was moved by such a film maker who challenged White people to talk about slavery and the economy that all of us benefited from such cheap labor.  She traced her family roots, discovered not only did her family have slaves, profited greatly from the slave trade.  Even us Irish, who came later, benefited from this reality, which we cannot deny.  If we do not have this conversation, we are doomed to keep seeing people who are not White as a deficit that we must find a way to include in our discourse, because White will only be defined by those not.  So even when we desire diversity, we are looking for those that are non-White to give us the answer, instead of having the real conversation ourselves.   It will be difficult, especially as it will often reveal privilege, even for those that worked hard.   If we have the hard discussion, and read and interact with theologies from non-White perspectives, we will benefit, even if it means a larger table.

I know this to be important because I observe that my experience as a child of a first generation mother has many similarities with immigrants today.  But I don’t want to be naïve to claim my experience is just like theirs, for there is a great complexity, but if those who are White are not able to admit this complexity of our own history, how are we truly to live into the diversity we uphold?

Currently I often speak and write about inclusion of people with disabilities, and many of us who do promote the civil rights of those with different abilities, are directly affected by disabilities.  One of the things I often dream of is for people without disabilities to have the conversation (in an intelligent and educated way) of what it means to inclusive of people of all abilities.  It would require very thoughtful and real conversation about the privileges one has in a society and how we assume normal.  We do the same thing with race—even with great intentions; we assume what is normal, if we do not talk about it. We need to be open to different views, our privilege, and the fact sometimes we are wrong.  And certainly we do learn from being wrong—well, at least I know I do.

 

 

 

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