Stretched So Thin You're Invisible

The most effective, most famous, most respected people in the world are almost all known for doing one thing.  Not three things or five things or twelve things.  One thing.  Tom Cruise: movies.  Rush Limbaugh: radio.  Lebron James: basketball.  Billy Graham: evangelism.  John Grisham: books.  Each person like this has devoted his or her life to being the absolute best they can be at that one thing.

Simple math dictates that the more tasks you take on, the less effectively or successfully you'll be able to do any one of those tasks individually.  You are a finite being.  Meaning, there's only so much time, energy and brain power to go around.  Stretch yourself long enough or far enough and, like a piece of gum, you'll start seeing holes.

You've, no doubt, heard the phrase: "Jack of all trades, master of none"...and it's true.  While this can be a positive thing if you're, say, a maintenance man or a personal assistant, it's not so good if you're trying to make a lasting mark on this world.  Adding things to your plate will only diminish the effectiveness with which you can complete the other things that are already there.  In time, you'll become 'pretty good' or 'pretty effective' at a lot of stuff, but not 'really good' or 'really effective' at anything.

Whether it's at work, at home, at church, or at school, people gravitate to remarkable.  To outstanding.  Not to mediocre or to average.

Have you been stretched to the point of mediocrity?

The Cost of Success

Somewhere along the way, our culture mixed up "doing your best" with "being the best".  Personally, I'm blaming the parents of American Idol wannabes for this confusion.

Each year, early in the Idol season, countless teens and twenty-somethings burst out of their auditions shouting obscenities and/or crying uncontrollably after being turned away by the judges.  It's as if these kids have never encountered rejection before.  And, the more I watch, the more I think that's probably the case.

Interview after interview with these "singers" reveals that mom or dad consistently tells them that they are incredible.  That they have never hit a wrong note in their life.  That they sound just like Usher or Celine Dion or whomever.

These are, undoubtably, the same parents who march into the classroom demanding a better grade for their flunking student...yell at the football coach because their child isn't the starting quarterback...or hire a defense attorney to get their son or daughter off the hook after driving drunk.

Don't get me wrong - I'm all for supporting our kids, for encouraging them and for helping them realize their dreams.  What I'm not for is lying to an entire generation of children.  I'm not for creating entitled young men and women who assume that red carpets will be rolled out and palm branches will be waved wherever they go.  I'm not for telling our kids something that isn't true in order to make myself feel better.

Every parent wants their children to succeed (I know I do), but many don't understand that failure is key to success.  We learn when we fail.  We're inspired (and sometimes forced) to work harder when we fail.  And, though it's difficult to swallow at times, we can often discern the things that God has not gifted us to do when we fail.

Parental pride should not be dependent on results.  It should be dependent on actions.  It's the difference between children "being the best" and "doing their best".

Whatever activities your kids are involved in, remember, they're not going to be the best at all of them.  They might not even be the best at any of them.  But, they can do their best at all of them.  And that, in and of itself, is something to be proud of.

God Was a First Time Parent Too (Sort of)

(Flashback Friday: Original Post from 09/09)

Have you ever thought of God as being a first time parent? He was (sort of). Sure, He was all-knowing, and all-powerful (which had to help)...but back on day six, He was still a first time parent. And, now that I'm a parent too, I'm seeing more and more similarities in our stories.

When God created Adam and Eve, He placed them in the Garden of Eden. Their very own utopia. A land that He created just for them. It was the most perfect place on Earth...with flowing rivers, flowering vegetation and beautiful animals.

When my son Jeremiah was born, Heather and I brought him home to a nursery that was as close to perfect as you can get. The walls were meticulously painted, the floors and furniture were sanitized, and the stuffed animals were arranged by height and color in a little wicker basket. Pottery Barn would have been jealous.

For a time, Adam and Eve lived happily in the garden...never needing or wanting anything other than what they already had.

For a time, we lived the same way. Jeremiah slept 18 hours a day, while friends and family members brought us heaping trays of lasagna, bagged salads and large pans of brownies. (Plus, the British Open was on that weekend, so I got to watch a lot of golf.)

Unfortunately, in both stories, this is where the tide starts to turn.

As the first humans to ever walk the planet, Adam and Eve's "eyes were opened" when they took a bite of the forbidden fruit.

As first time parents, our "eyes were opened" in a different sort of way. A few days of solid screaming and projectile poo-ing was all it took for us to realize that we had a long road ahead of us.

God, seeing that his creations needed guidance, set up a system of rules and restrictions to help protect them. Things like: don't steal, don't cheat, and don't kill.

Heather and I, seeing that our little creation needed guidance, set up a system of rules and restrictions to protect Jeremiah as well. Things like: don't scream, don't play with the stove, and don't hit your baby brother in the head with your dump truck.

You know, more than two years into this parenting adventure, I have to admit that there are plenty of days when I wonder what in the world we were thinking. Jeremiah whines...a lot. He screams when he wants something. He's stubborn and selfish. He specifically does what we tell him not to do. It can be maddening.

Yet, somehow, at the end of the day when I peek in my son's room to turn off the light...I don't care. I love that little guy more than anything. He's a part of me, and regardless of what he does or how he acts, I'm going to keep loving him. No questions asked. Tomorrow is a new day.

I'm guessing that God sometimes wonders what happened to His perfect creation too. I whine and scream in my own unique ways. I'm stubborn and selfish. I intentionally ignore God's direction sometimes. Yet, at the end of the day, my mistakes don't change God's opinion of me at all. He loves me more than anything. I was made in His image, and regardless of what I do or how I act, He promises to keep loving me. No questions asked.

And the same goes for you too.

Tomorrow is a new day.

Case-Sensitive Christians

We live in a passworded society.  Online banking, email, eBay, Facebook, Twitter and thousands of other online applications require that you create a unique combination of keystrokes in order to keep your personal information secure.

A number of the websites I use require my password to contain both upper and lowercase letters, at least one number and at least one punctuation mark.  So, I've decided to use a former address as my log in.  Hypothetically speaking, let's say it's "123S.Vine".

Since these servers are case-sensitive, when trying to access my account, I am forced to type "123S.Vine" exactly as is appears.  If my caps lock is on, and I accidentally type "123S.VINE", it won't work.  If I don't fully press my 'shift' key, and enter "123s.vine", I'm out.

To be honest, I'm thankful that my information is held in such high esteem by these companies.  I'd rather not have a potential thief guessing their way into my bank account or social network profile.

However, I've got a bit of an issue with Christians who pretend (or actually believe) that we serve a case-sensitive Christ.  They act like God is somehow waiting for His creations to make just one tiny mistake so he can deny us access into His family.

Skip church?  You're out.  Forget to tithe?  Uh-uh.  Been baptized?  Immersion, you're okay.  Sprinkling, not so much.  Do you dance?  Only slow.  Play cards?  As long as there are no poker chips involved.  Have tatoos?  If they're crosses.  Enjoy alcohol?  Wine, not beer.  Been divorced?  Please.  Have an affair?  No way.  The list goes on and on.

I don't know about you, but my Bible says there's only one thing that matters: belief in Jesus.  Period.  He's the password.  He's what gets you "in".  It's a relationship with Him that matters.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to pull the caps lock off of my Christian keyboard.

Finding Your Fulcrum

I’m no physics expert.  In fact, I just had to spell-check the word “physics”.  I am, however, familiar with some of the science’s basic principles.

For example, Newton’s first law of motion says, “An object in motion will stay in motion, unless an outside force acts upon it.”  Practically speaking, if you accidentally leave a cup of coffee on the roof of your car, Newton says that it will remain there exactly long enough for all of your co-workers to see what a bonehead you are…and then launch itself (and your bold French roast) into oncoming traffic.

Recently though, I’ve been struck by the power of another basic physics concept: the fulcrum and the lever.  In case you slept through as much science class as I did, levers are rigid objects that are used to exert force with the help of a fulcrum (or pivot point).  When the fulcrum is in the center of the lever, the weight on either end of the lever must be equal in order to find balance.  (If this doesn’t make sense, picture a fat kid and a skinny kid on a seesaw.)

The coolest part about a lever is, if you move the fulcrum toward one end, it takes less weight on the opposite end to even things out.  Essentially, this simple machine allows you to do more with less.  (If you’re still picturing the seesaw, move the pivot point toward the fat kid.)

I think this principle applies to our work environments as well.

If you find yourself spending an exorbitant number of hours checking email, traveling, reading, crunching numbers, doing research, playing Solitaire, etc.…then you’re putting too much weight on the wrong end of your lever.  A little bit of work is getting done at the expense of a whole lot of time and effort.  (You’re the fat kid moving the skinny one.)

The key, of course, is to put your own personal “fulcrum” in a place where you can do more with less effort.  (You want to be the skinny kid moving the fat one.)

While the specifics will be different for everyone, here are three ways to help you “find your fulcrum”.

1. Write down your daily tasks.  Oftentimes, we have no idea exactly what activities are taking up our time each day.  If you’re on a budget at home, you’ve likely done this same exercise with your expenditures.  In order to change, you have to be aware of what the problems are.

2. Evaluate the “weight” of each task.  Which items on your list are important to getting your product or service out the door?  (Seth Godin calls it “shipping”.) Chances are you have several minor (or lightweight) things that are taking your time and energy away from the heavy stuff.

3. Re-prioritize your list.  Move the tasks that do your “heavy-lifting” to the top of each day’s to-do list and the lightweights to the bottom.  This ensures that you’ll do the things that help you “ship” first…and the rest later, if at all.

It may sound simple, but changing our daily habits and routines is anything but easy.  As Newton reminds us, “An object in motion will stay in motion, unless an outside force acts upon it.”

Consider this your outside force.

Yes You Canada

I don't know about you, but I don't think about Canada very often. I've been there a few times. I know a few athletes and actors who are Canadian. "Canada" is even the answer to my favorite trivia question.

But do I have a soft spot in my heart for our neighbors to the north? Not really.

While watching the Winter Olympics though, despite being an American, I found myself rooting for several Canadian athletes.

First was Alexander Bilodeau. Before his final run in the men's moguls, Canada had never won a gold medal during an Olympics held within their borders. Moments before Alexander took off down the mountain, NBC told his story. Bilodeau's older brother Frederic is handicapped.  He has cerebral palsy, and has been Bilodeau's source of inspiration for as long as the skier can remember.  Alexander said, "Enjoy life, that is his philosophy...and he's got the right to complain."

The two brothers are incredibly close - despite their stark differences.  And I cried right along with Frederic as Alexander won the gold.

Then there was figure skater Joannie Rochette. Two days before she was to take the ice, her mother died of a heart attack.  After losing her biggest fan, Joannie decided to skate anyway.  It's what her mother would have wanted.

I don't think there was a dry eye in the arena after Rochette's short program.  And, 48 hours later, when Joannie was standing on the podium with a bronze medal draped around her neck, I'm sure that Kleenex's stock price must have doubled.

On paper, Alexander and Joannie are just Canadian athletes who happened to win medals.  But, once you know their history, their heartbreak and their heroism...something changes.  Their stories almost demand that we pay attention...regardless of our allegiances or interests.  You can't help but identify with them.

Well, just like I don't think about Canada very much, there are many people around us who don't think about Jesus very often either.  They may have been to church a few times. They may know a few athletes and actors who are Christians. To them, "Jesus" may just be a name in a history book or the answer to a trivia question.

That's why it's critical that you and I tell our stories.  Our history, our heartbreak and our heroism matter.  More specifically, Jesus' role in those three things matters.  Powerful stories demand that people pay attention...not to you, but to Him.

You have a story.  And so do I.

Show it.  Tell it.  Live it.  You might be surprised who's watching.