The Importance of Six Leprosy Patients

In many leadership situations, numbers matter. They do. And these days, it’s easier than ever to locate numbers and quickly see how you stack up. But what do you do when your numbers look bleak?

You might be advertising a product that isn’t selling. Or you’ve written a book that’s poorly promoted. Or you’re speaking to smaller circles than hoped. Or you have less online influence than imagined.

My first job out of college was youth director at a church. Part of the job meant planning events. We’d host a Saturday barbecue, or a weekend of rock climbing. These events usually went well. But once in a while—for reasons unexplained—we got a bafflingly low turnout.

Blame it on lousy weather. Blame it on crossed communication channels. Blame it on apathy, boredom, or fickleness on behalf of my students. I’d have Frisbees stacked and waiting. Cheeseburgers would be sizzling on the grill. A full roster of youth staff would be on hand to help out. But only five kids would show up.

Whenever that happened, I felt the normal gamut of emotions—disappointment, anger, confusion, fear. Hey, this event is good for your development. Not to mention that my job is on the line!

Leadership experts say determination is the answer. Rather than bemoan low numbers, make failure a mentor. Study what went wrong, figure out how to do things better or smarter next time, then try again.

I agree. Whining about low numbers accomplishes nothing. The wise leader rolls up his sleeves, gets wiser, and presses on. That’s the solution.

But sometimes—and this is where things get tricky—sheer determination isn’t the answer. You’ve actually done your best. Bases were covered. You gave it your all. Yet, for whatever mysterious reasons, the results were still lower than expected.

What then?

In the 1980s, journalist Philip Yancey travelled to India to interview Dr. Paul Brand, the prestigious orthopedic surgeon. Brand had revolutionized hand reconstruction techniques from his painstaking years of working with leprosy patients. In addition to Brand’s work in the hospital, he sometimes preached in the small chapel on the grounds of the leprosy sanatorium.

Yancey noted that Dr. Brand approached his message preparation like he approached every aspect of his career—with utmost sincerity, drive, and zeal. Brand would study for hours on end—sweating and squinting long into the night—to prepare and later deliver a flawless message described as besting any given by the world’s top cathedral orators.

The remarkable thing, Yancey wrote, was that the only people who ever heard these messages were half a dozen leprosy patients.

Did you catch that?

Hours of preparation time.

To speak to six leprosy patients.

Why.

Always, what matters is the individual person, Dr. Brand explained to Yancey. It doesn’t matter if you’re speaking to crowds of thousands, or to a room of six. It’s always the individual whose life is touched.

Always the individual.

Perhaps that perspective helps when numbers are low. Maybe not to your boss or bank account. But to your own soul.

Yes, you’re in a position where numbers matter. You need to reach as large a crowd as possible. You’re calling depends on it.

But here’s the encouragement: if you’ve planned a barbecue and only five students show up, those five individuals matter greatly.

Grab the Frisbees, and go big with the five you have.

 

Question: Have you ever experienced lower numbers than planned? How did you respond?

Book Contest Winners Announced

A huge thank you goes to everyone who entered this recent book give-away contest. I had lots of fun reading everyone’s comments about Thanksgiving. Thanks also to everyone for reading my books and  blog. Much appreciated!

And now for the news we’ve all been waiting for. Drum roll please….

The contest winners are:

 

*** CARLTON LOWRY

You’ve won the GRAND PRIZE. A complete author-signed collection of three of my books: We Who Are Alive & Remain, A Company of Heroes, and Shifty’s War.
 

* DUSTIN RIBERGAARD

You’ve won the RUNNER UP prize. One author-signed copy of my newest book, Shifty’s War

Dustin and Carlton, please send me your mailing address via e-mail at:

marcus [at] marcusbrotherton [dot] com  

[at = @]

[dot = .]
[no spaces]

And I’ll get the books out to you right away.

Thanks again everyone. Here’s kicking off a great holiday season!

Big Book Giveaway Contest

I want to say a huge THANK YOU to you, faithful readers, by holding a book giveaway contest.

*** The GRAND PRIZE WINNER will receive a complete author-signed collection of three of my books: We Who Are Alive & Remain, A Company of Heroes, and Shifty’s War.

* The RUNNER UP will receive one author-signed copy of my newest book, Shifty’s War.

You may have already bought these books (many thanks if you did), yet I encourage you to enter the contest anyway. The books are great to add to any collection or to give away as gifts.

Important:

1)      To enter, simply write a comment in this blog posting below with YOUR FIRST AND LAST NAME and ONE THING YOU’RE THANKFUL FOR. No hoops to jump through--that’s all there is to it. (Note: If you’re reading this post via Feedblitz or a RSS feed, you’ll probably need to go directly to my website www.marcusbrotherton.com to do this.)

2)      Contest closes Sunday November 27, at 8 p.m. PST. Any comments received after that will not be counted.

3)      I’ll put all names into a hat and randomly draw two winners—the grand prize winner first and then the runner up.

4)      I’ll announce the names of winners on a blog post here on Monday, November 28. The winners can e-mail me with their mailing addresses, and I’ll get the books out to them right after that.

5)      Both domestic and international entries are welcome. (The last person who won a book from me lived in the UK).

That’s it.

Thanks again everybody. Here’s kicking off a great holiday season.

Difficult Decisions Made Easier

A few years back, a kid in our church, (I’ll call him Tommy), got his girlfriend pregnant, then manned up and married her. They were both young, maybe 19. She was training to be a hairdresser. He was taking a few courses in community college.

Days after the wedding, Tommy appeared at my front door, bucket and brush in hand. “Wash your windows?” Tommy asked. “I just started my own business. Forty bucks.”

I said yes. My panes undoubtedly needed a scrub. But my real motivation was helping him out.

A week later I was having lunch with an older businessman who also knew Tommy. “So, did Tommy come by your house?” he asked.

“Yeah. I hired him.”

“He came by my house, too,” the businessman said. “But I told him no.”

I asked why. The businessman was known for his big-heartedness.

“Because Tommy doesn’t know beans about running his own business,” the businessman said, “and now isn’t the right time for him to learn. What Tommy needs right now is to buckle down and get a full time job.”

This man ran one of the largest building supply depots in the county. In those days, jobs could be had fairly easily at the supply yard, if only Tommy asked.

It took me awhile before I fully grasped this businessman’s strange strategy for ultimately helping Tommy succeed. Starting a business isn’t easy. You’ve got to master the disciplines of working for yourself, including building a clientele list, marketing to keep enough projects coming in, retaining a customer base, and much more.

Both the businessman and I wanted the best for Tommy, and we admired Tommy’s gumption. But the businessman was right. Perhaps if Tommy had started his cleaning business on the side and built it up, things would be different. But if Tommy’s only income came from a brand new window washing business, then there was no way he was going to be able to support his family.

Have you ever found yourself in a similar season?

You have good intentions in going one direction, but what you really need to do is go a different direction, a slightly more responsible direction, if you’re going to truly succeed.

My wife and I recently experienced a season like that. In the course of four months, we were swarmed with a barrage of unforeseen bills. Big bills. Crazy bills. Bills that bled through the mail. Lumped together, these bills equaled almost three months’ salary.

We tightened our belts, and cut out doodads. But enough was enough. I needed to do what I needed to do.

I cut loose my Kawasaki.

I should mention I loved this motorbike. I had dreamed about owning it for years before I finally did. My dear wife and I had agreed that having a hobby would be good for me, and I had owned the bike for only a year.

But at the end of the day, it just wasn’t the right season of life for me to have a hobby that took that amount of money out of the family budget. I posted my motorbike on Craigslist, and it sold within two days.

The decision came fairly easy after I realized sometimes a leader needs to take one for the team.

He voluntarily inconveniences himself for the sake of the greater good.

He buckles down and gets a full time job, even though he wants the freedom of working for himself.

He sells his motorbike, though he longs for the open trail.

Question: In what ways have you ever needed to buckle down, and how did it ultimately benefit you in the end?

What Forrest Guth Never Said from his Foxhole

“Do what you love, and love what you do.”

 

How many times have you heard that—or a variation of it?

The principle abounds in leadership teaching. To be a truly successful leader, you need to discover your passion and operate only from that grid. Spend your days doing what you’re most interested in. Discover your passion and thrive doing what you do best.

The principle is true if passion is defined as an overall sense of purpose.

But the principle becomes problematic if passion is defined as only aiming for life’s sweet spot.

I don’t know about you, but there have been plenty of times I’ve been called to lead where I’m not doing what I love, and I’m not loving what I’m doing. I’ve been exhausted, frustrated, burned out, angry, or discouraged. I’ve needed to lead from duty, responsibility, will power, or necessity.

Enter a simple principle, one that’s so powerful it trumps the narrower definition of passion. When you lead from this principle, you’re not worried about having bad days, getting your needs met, or always loving what you’re doing.

The principle is willingness.

Forrest Guth (1921-2009) and me at the 2008 Easy Co reunion.

Forrest Guth, one of the original Band of Brothers, embodied this principle after jumping into Holland for Operation Market Garden. Seconds out of the plane, he discovered to his horror that his parachute hadn’t fully inflated. Guth streamed through the sky, flailing. The men had jumped too low to open reserve chutes. Desperately, Guth tried to smooth out his silk. No success.

Guth thudded into the dirt and was knocked out cold. When he came to, his back and leg were paralyzed. Medics hauled him to a cattle barn where he lay for two days until the line moved up. They put him in a jeep, carted him to the rear, and put him on a plane to a hospital in England.

Guth was bedridden for weeks. Gradually, some feeling returned to his leg and back. But his fighting days were over. Doctors gave him the wonderful news that his injuries were sufficient to be discharged from the military. His wounds were his golden ticket home.

Home.

That was Guth’s place of passion. Home meant apple pie and girlfriends, hot food, clean sheets, and Glen Miller on the radio.

Guth could hop the next plane for America.

But—get this—Guth said no.

Of his own volition, he limped out of the hospital to rejoin his unit, just as they were heading into Bastogne, one of the coldest, bloodiest, and most miserable battles of history.

Why?

“I couldn’t leave my friends,” Guth said. “There was more work to be done.”

Some might argue that the battle, not home, was Guth’s true place of passion. He was passionate about serving his buddies in their greatest time of need.

I’ll agree with that.

But—and here’s the core of the point I want to make—when Guth was huddled in a foxhole with his feet frostbitten, his stomach growling, the water in his canteen frozen, and artillery shells exploding all around him blowing his friends to bits, did Guth ever smile and say, “Y’know, I just love this place, and love what I’m doing here.”?

No way.

If we define passion as always loving what we’re doing, then we need to broaden our definition of passion, because success in leadership is certainly not about feeling good all the time.

Another historical leader, St. Paul of Tarsus, put it this way: “Be leaders, not because you must, but because you’re willing.”

That’s what’s needed.

Willingness.

When the battle isn’t over, willingness gets things done.

Question: have you ever been in a place you needed to be, yet it was still difficult? What did you do to go on?

When You're Torn Between Work and Home

In my profession, part of my job means actually doing my job.

And part of my job also means lining up the next job.

With book collaborations, I’ve done enough by now that my canon of material usually speaks for itself. But every so often, particularly the more famous an author is who’s seeking a collaborative writer, I still need to “audition” for the part. They check me out to see if they want to work with me. It’s how this business is done.

So when my agent phoned about a possible collaboration with a number one draft pick, multi-Super-Bowl-winning, hall-of-famer, ultra-famous, ex-Dallas Cowboys quarterback who wanted to write his memoir, and the absolute only possible date and time this author and his team of agents were able to meet for a conference call was April 30, 2008, at 2:30 p.m., I said yes.

Problem.

My one and only beloved son, Zachary Justus Brotherton, was scheduled to make his grand entrance via induced labor on April 28, 2008, and my wife and I were set to spend two nights in the hospital.

The dude, in all his glory.

That meant we’d be bringing home our newborn at the exact same time as the conference call.

What takes priority? Work or home?

Ever been there?

I made a good case in my mind for the conference call. It was important. Mighty important. Being responsible meant I needed to bring home the bacon, and being present and mentally sharp for this conference call was an integral part of that process.

But I also made a good case for being fully there for my wife and son. A whopping good case. Good grief, this was a once-in-a-lifetime event.

What did I choose?

Both.

Yep. I figured I could squeeze `em in together.

Now, say it with me men, loud and clear: newborns—and mothers who’ve just given birth, (despite their overall high level of support for their husband’s work)—just can’t be rushed.

Say it!

Just. Can’t. Be. Rushed.

So there I was on April 30, glancing at my watch every five minutes like an idiot, helping my wife into a wheelchair, strapping my son into his car seat, snapping pictures, tapping my foot.

Bah.

I drove my wife home, tucked her into bed, and then she needed me to go pick up a prescription for pain medication. Right now, please.

The clock was ticking. The time for the call was moments away.

That’s when I nearly lost it. I hadn’t slept in two days. None of us had. And I needed to be in my office, on a landline with notes on my computer in front of me, and I NEEDED to take this call. Now!

But

My wife was in pain.

See the problem?

I drove to the pharmacy. I picked up her prescription. I sat in the parking lot with my cell phone. I took the call there. And then I raced home.

Not my best audition. Or my best moment as a husband.

No, I didn’t get the job.

Here’s wisdom. The Reverend Billy Graham, when asked in his old age if there was anything he would have done differently throughout the very significant life he’s led, said he regretted not spending more time with his family. You don’t need to accept every invitation that comes your way, Dr. Graham said, or be absent from home so much.

Today, I hope I’m wiser than three years ago.

When it comes to having an important conference call on the same day my newborn son comes home from the hospital,

I should have let that project go.

Question: how have you found a balance between work and home?