Leadership--Atrophy?

Another time Jesus went into the synagogue, and a man with a shriveled hand was there (Mark 3:1, NIV).

Tradition tells us that this man with the shriveled hand had been a brick mason.  He had not been born with a deformity, but had been injured, most likely, at work, and the injury certainly kept him from his work.

I remember learning about atrophy in a college physical education class. The idea was, of course, use or lose—if muscles go unused, they become useless. Evidently this man's injury was so severe that his hand was not only useless, but it had also atrophied in such a way that it actually shriveled—appeared to have dried up and shrunken into itself.

Scripture speaks of the hand of men. To Moses, God said, “What is that in your hand? –Meaning—I have given you tools and gifts you can use, Moses. Jesus spoke of a man "putting his hand to the plow" (Luke 9:62) as a description of discipleship. Paul spoke of "the right hand of fellowship" (Galatians 2:9) as an indication of relationship, solidarity, and teamwork.. To Timothy, Paul requests that all Christians "lift up holy hands" in prayer (1 Timothy 2:8).

Christian leader, I imagine an actual shriveled hand is not your problem today. But do you have gifts and strengths that have been laid aside due to that busy schedule? How about your hand on the plow of your personal discipleship? –Have you been looking at that long row of fallow ground for way too long? Has the right hand of fellowship been broken with someone?  Or the holy hands of prayer—are they lifted? Got any other conceptual "hands" that might be kind of shriveled up?

Always worth considering. Take a good look at your "hands" today.

--Charles "Chuck" Nutt

Leadership is--Disturbing

"There came a man sent from God whose name was John" (John 1:6, NASB1995)

Mystery and miracle surrounded him all his life. His approaching birth was announced by an angel to his father. Zacharias’ hesitancy to believe resulted in nine months of muteness. When the unborn child heard the voice Mary, the pregnant mother of Jesus approaching for a visit, he leapt in the womb of his mother, Elizabeth. When he was born of these barren elderly parents, the curse of silence was lifted as Zacharias wrote, “His name is John" (Luke 1:63-64, NASB1995)

He vanishes from the stage of history for 30 years, but then in Elijah-like fashion, he makes his entrance front and center in the Judean wilderness. It is a strange place to start a revival or a movement. And that’s not all. His wardrobe—camel’s hair. His diet—locusts and honey. Even in that ancient culture, he was a strange man, indeed.

Then there was his message—a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, and the announcement of the One who was to come—baptizing with the Holy Spirit and fire. He was a Voice crying out, as a “clear, articulate sound.” He was an anomaly, counter to the culture, with a message that disturbed the comfortable establishment and heralded the coming of One who would send the Comforter to a disturbed world.

You and I should consider this strange messenger as we seek to live out the calling of leadership in kingdom business. Our births were probably ordinary, our wardrobes and diets commonplace, but this message of Jesus as The Way—the ONLY Way—is, like the Baptist’s, counter to our culture, and politically incorrect. In a world that craves the comfortable, this message that disturbs that tranquility will often make our audience--uncomfortable. And we, as messengers, considered very strange indeed.

Catherine Booth, wife of the founder of The Salvation Army William Booth, said, "If we are to better the future, we must disturb the present."

As leaders, we are trying to move toward--create--a more preferable future. According to the Baptist and Catherine Booth, that seems to demand, at least to some degree, disturbing our present.

And history is pretty clear. Comfortable is nice. But it's disturbing that changes the world.

--Charles "Chuck" Nutt

Weapons of Warfare for the Christian Leader

It was early September, 1977, Fall convocation for my first semester at Nazarene Theological Seminary. The Seminary Chapel at 1700 East Meyer Boulevard in Kansas City, Missouri, was at near capacity with over 400 persons in attendance. I don’t remember anything from the day, with one exception.

For the opening hymn, everyone stood. The atmosphere was thick with both the sense of calling that had brought us all to that place, and the anticipation of what God had for us in that semester and beyond. The organist, having already “pulled out all the stops,” commenced the introduction. And then, 400 plus (admittedly, mostly male) voices lifted in unison to sing the first verse of “Lead On, O King, Eternal.” We seemed to raise the roof. For this country boy from Ohio, it was an ethereal experience. I had never heard anything like it; I have never forgotten it, and I never will.

The pomp and circumstance of my remembrance is quite a contrast with where I have been in recent days. There certainly weren’t 400 comrades in arms. Resources were scarce, Christ's warriors were wounded and weary, and results, by the world's measure, were few. Yet, there was still much kingdom work being done—dedication to the mission was not in doubt and stories of victory were shared. But I also  heard of great harvest fields waiting and enlistments for the battle wanting.

The great hymn seems to make the Lamb’s War a glorious thing. Where I was, nothing seemed all that glorious. However, the great hymn, with all of its bravado, does briefly indicate how the Lamb’s War was waged in ancient days, how it is being fought in humble places, and how all the great leaders of the Lamb fight the good fight. It’s in the last few words of the second verse: “with deeds of love and mercy the heavenly kingdom comes.”

“The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds . . . (2 Corinthians 10:4).

LEAD ON, O KING ETERNAL

Lead on, O King eternal,

The day of march has come;

Henceforth in fields of conquest

Your tents will be our home.

Through days of preparation

Your grace has made us strong;

And now, O King eternal,

We lift our battle song.

Lead on, O King eternal,

Till sin's fierce war shall cease,

And holiness shall whisper

The sweet amen of peace.

For not with swords' loud clashing

Or roll of stirring drums

With deeds of love and mercy

The heavenly kingdom comes.

Lead on, O King eternal;

We follow, not with fears,

For gladness breaks like morning

Where'er your face appears.

Your cross is lifted o'er us,

We journey in its light;

The crown awaits the conquest;

Lead on, O God of might.

--Charles "Chuck" Nutt 

ACT

“By faith the walls of Jericho fell down after the Israelites had marched around them for seven days” (Hebrews 11:30).

Often times, faith--and leadership--call for action, even if the action seems a little . . . crazy? Odd? Uncertain? My friend, Randy, preached from this verse. His thoughts were helpful to me, perhaps they will be for you, too.

Let’s face it, no matter what era of history we’re talking about, marching around a city wall for a week is a little crazy. Okay. A lot crazy! Now, let me be clear, I don’t believe God often calls us to be a lot crazy. But He may be calling us to step up and step out of our comfort zone--and yes, even our leadership comfort zone.

Very briefly, Randy’s thoughts:

ACT – even when your first response is a question. 

 ACT – even when you feel insignificant. As someone has said, “Don’t fail to do SOMETHING just because you can’t do EVERYTHING.”

ACT – even when you’re not 100 percent sure.

Who knows what walls might come down!

Looking for Leaders

God had seen and heard of the oppression of His people in Egypt, so He came down (Exodus 3:7-8) in a burning bush that was not consumed (Exodus 3:2), looking for a leader to bring them out of Egypt. An all-too-humble--read: false humility--shepherd turned aside to see the unusual sight (Exodus 3:3). God said, "Moses, you're the one" (Exodus 3:10).
Moses offered up four objections as to why he was NOT the one:

1. He questioned his own worthiness - Who am I? (Exodus 3:11)
2. He questioned God - Who are you? (Exodus 3:13)
3. He questioned the response of his potential followers - What if they don't believe me? (Exodus 4:1)
4. He questioned his own ability and adequacy for the task - I don't speak well. (Exodus 4:10)

God patiently responds and meets each of Moses' objections to his leadership calling with promises of His presence (Exodus 3:12), His power (Exodus 3:20, 4:2-9), and His provision (Exodus 4:12). To all this Moses replies, "Please, Lord, now send the message by whomever You will" (Exodus 4:13) - Perhaps he was the first God-called leader who said, "Lord, can't you just send somebody else?"

At this point, God's patience seems to have reached its limit. Perhaps God's response went something like this: "Moses! Listen! This plan is already in action. Your brother, Aaron, is coming out to meet you, and when he sees you, he will be glad in his heart (Exodus 4:14-15, NASB1995, another translation says 'overjoyed' NASB). Moses! HELP IS ALREADY ON THE WAY!"

The story is told that Catherine Booth, wife of Salvation Army founder William Booth, would repeat these words to her children as she tucked them into bed at night: "We are not sent here for ourselves. We have been sent for others. The world is waiting for us."

And so, my God-called leader friend, for today, for this new year, for the monumental task in front of you, I am believing:

• God is looking for leaders;
• The world is waiting;
• Help is already on the way;
• and Someone will be glad you came.

---Charles "Chuck" Nutt

Bigger than my Box

When it comes to boxes, I like mine neat and tidy. First of all, there should be few, if any, open gaps left inside the box when it is filled. Secondly, my boxes are full when all the items in it come as close to the top as possible without rising above it. That way, if there is a lid, it can be placed on top or the flaps can be easily closed. Naturally, this makes for the most efficient jamming and cramming in cars, moving vans, closets, storage units, and so on. That’s me—a picture of efficiency! Well, not really.

My wife Beth, on the other hand, is on the other end of the spectrum when it comes to boxes. She has never met a box that she couldn’t overstuff. Using her considerable ingenuity, she can stuff in one box what I would neatly pack in three.

Though my technique works well for stacking and packing, Beth’s methodology is a more accurate picture of God and the boxes we humans try to place Him in. I have tried to neatly define God, designate the spaces he should occupy, and set the limits of His authority in my life. But like my wife (who is quite often God’s messenger to me), God has never met a box of mine that He couldn’t overstuff! He’s bigger than the box I want to put Him in!

Moses also discovered this when God called him to free the children of Israel from Pharaoh (Exodus 3). After God cleared up Moses’ first objection to the assignment (“Who am I?” Exodus 3:11 - See Bigger than My Baggage), Moses decided he needed some clarification on the identity of the Voice emanating from the burning bush. He inquires of God, “the sons of Israel may ask me what your name is, what shall I say?” (Exodus 3:13). Simply put, Moses’ second objection to God’s call is “Who are You?”

God’s initial response is brief: “I AM WHO I AM.” He then instructs Moses on what to say to the sons of Israel and outlines the course of events that will take place in Egypt. In a manner of speaking, God is saying to Moses, “Who am I? You really don’t know me very well. Who I am cannot be defined or contained in one simple name. And what I have in mind, and your part in it, is much more than you can conceive or imagine, in fact, it’s beyond your wildest dreams. Moses, I’m a lot bigger than the box you’re trying to put Me in right now!”

I can be so proud of my box—my “understanding” of God—and so focused on it that, like Moses, I can be tentative or doubtful about what God wants to do in my life, in the world around me, and the leadership roles and responsibilities He has called me to. I can be more focused on my own understanding than on God Himself.

Truthfully, I have discovered before that God is bigger than my understanding. Of course, this has led to greater experiences with God, increased understanding, and—bigger boxes. Then in a little while, I discover anew that He is bigger than my bigger boxes, too!
I should probably just throw my box away—again!

---Charles "Chuck" Nutt

Bigger than my Baggage

 "The circumstances of life—and leadership . . . occasionally call us to our own monumental task . . . and when we compare the task with our baggage, it seems there is no way to bear the burden of both."

My work used to take me around the country, so two or three times a week I would find myself standing with my fellow travelers around a baggage carousel.  Baggage is interesting.  It rolls by in all shapes, colors, and sizes, and I suppose in some way each piece says something about its owner.  Yet, most airport carousels post a sign urging travelers to check the baggage name tag because “many bags look alike.”  More than once, I have started to pick up a bag, only to find it belonged to someone else.

Though there are many similarities, baggage seems to be highly personal.  I’ve never observed anyone who would be content to leave with another person’s bag.  Everyone seems intent on reconnecting with their own possessions.  Even if it gets heavy, if we’re going to carry anything, we want it to be our own—that with which we are familiar.

It’s no wonder that “baggage” has become a metaphor for the history, issues, problems, and consequences, we accumulate along life’s travels.  Sometimes these encumbrances get heavy, but we are hard-pressed to part with them, and after all, they are uniquely our own, and they can be used as a convenient excuse for—well, you get the picture.

Moses was reflecting on his “baggage” when God met him on the backside of nowhere and informed him that he was to lead the Israelites out of Egypt (Exodus 3:1-10).  His first objection (read – excuse) to God’s call was, “Who am I, that I should go to Pharaoh…?” (Exodus 3:11). I imagine that Moses’ elaboration on this point, certainly in his own mind, and perhaps in an extended conversation with God, went something like this:

“God, you don’t understand.  I’m a has-been in Egypt.  When I left there (you may recall, I ran), I was a wanted man!  And those Israelites---I tried to help them before.  Now, I know I probably didn’t go about it the right way---killing a man and so forth, but they didn’t respond well to my leadership (Exodus 2:11-15).  Another thing, I know I had lots of potential, but things haven’t turned out so well for me.  You see those sheep over there, they aren’t even mine!  I’ve been shepherding my father-in-law Jethro’s sheep for forty years (Exodus 2:16-22; 3:1). I really am a nobody.  For such a monumental task, why would you pick a loser like me?”

 God’s response to Moses’ objection is brief and to the point: “Well Moses, since I will be with you, none of that really matters” (Exodus 3:12).  And God could have said—if he didn’t, “And you won’t believe how instrumental the ‘baggage’ you’ve picked up in the last 80 years is going to be. For one thing, just leading those people out of Egypt is going to be a whole lot like shepherding sheep!”

God was saying, “Moses, I’m bigger than your baggage!”       

The circumstances of life—and leadership (I’m sure God is in those) occasionally call us to our own monumental task.  When we compare the task with our baggage (“Who am I?”), it may seem there is no way to bear the burden of both.  It is in those moments, however, that we can rediscover who we are is not nearly so important as Who is with us. 

Take courage, leader, God is bigger than our baggage!

---Charles "Chuck" Nutt

Leading Toward the Future

The promises of God to Abraham appear to have been “rolled out” over a number of years. Stephen indicates God spoke to Abraham in Ur, before he ever lived in Haran (Acts 7:2-3), and Stephen quotes Genesis 12:1, indicating the command to leave his father’s house and relatives to go to a land that God will show him. Abraham obeys, by faith (Hebrews 11:8), but does not forsake his father or relatives.

He tarries in Haran between six and 15 years, before he continues to Canaan after his father’s death. After he arrives there, God’s promise expands. It broadens from a “land which I will show you” (Genesis 12:1), to “to your descendants I will give this land” (Genesis 12:7). A famine comes to the land, however, and it would seem fear, rather than faith, rules the day, and Abraham and Lot make for Egypt (Genesis 12:10).

Following the folly in Egypt (Genesis 12:10-20) and a return to Canaan, Abraham’s and Lot’s joint prosperity is too much for the land if they dwell together. It cannot sustain them both, and so they separate (Genesis 13:1-13).

Finally, it seems, Abraham has fulfilled God’s first command—to leave his relatives and his father’s house. God says to Abraham, “All the land which you see, I will give it to you . . .” (Genesis 13:15). Now the “roll-out”, the progression, is complete: A land which I will show you—I will give this land to your descendants—I will give it to you. And Abraham’s descendants will be as the dust of the earth—too many to number.

Without even his own heir, Abraham now knows for certain that he has been leading, and will continue to lead, toward a future which he will never see. There is much that he knows—see Genesis 12:1-3, 7; 13:14-17—but much he will never himself experience.

This is, or at least should be, true of so many of us who lead. Most of us know less of the future than Abraham did, however, and it is a great temptation to lead for expediency’s sake, rather than a consideration of what will remain when our time has passed. There can even be a temptation to maximize our own legacy at the expense of those who will come after us.

Few of us, if any, will have as much of a clue about the future as Abraham did. But it behooves us to remember, as long as Christ tarries, that there is a future beyond our time. And like Abraham, we can lead toward it, just like he did—“not knowing where he was going” (Hebrews 11:8).

May God grant those of us who lead a vision bigger—and longer—than we are. May we lead toward the future, even though we can’t see it. May we have the courage to plant trees, underneath the shade of which, we will never sit.

---Charles "Chuck" Nutt