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I procrastinate too much.  I put things off. 

I’m learning to use procrastination as a diagnostic opportunity.  In my experience, there are three most common reasons I don’t act on what I know to do.

Sometimes I’m simply immature.  The “I don’t wanna” voice is loud.  Laziness and distraction are winning.  The solution?  Acknowledge it, preach to myself, and move forward.  The old “set a timer for 5 minutes and get started” trick is helpful here.

Sometimes I’m fearful.  There is a necessary moment of confrontation, or confession. I’m anticipating significant discomfort.  There’s no going around, only through. The solution?  Buck up and do what’s needed.  Be prepared for the moment. 

Sometimes I don’t know how to do something, or am missing some key information or insight.  It’s simpler to pause and find excuses.  The solution?  Translate vagueness to clarity. Figure  out exactly what’s missing or unknown, and then take action to resolve that, one step at a time.

What’s your experience?

I explicitly don’t write on contemporary politics because a gazillion others will do that for you, and because it’s depressing.  Watching the kabuki theatre of US national political leadership ‘debates’ and ‘election campaigns’ puts me in an Irish mood of seeking cynical humor rather than breaking down crying or raging at the foolishness.

So much is outside my control.  And yours.  There is a dark motivation in certain news and political organizations to overwhelm you, so you’re paralyzed and give up.

We must focus on our self-control and self-leadership rather than bemoaning “Where are the leaders? Where is competence?” and passively hoping for the right ‘someone’ will fix things.  (I’ve joked that we should have named our two children “Someone” and “Somebody Else” because they would always have work.)

Last week I quoted Gandalf: “All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”  I see an important and strengthening insight there.  We’re gifted the time.  We’re gifted these times.  There is purpose and meaning in gifts.  Draw courage from this.

Perhaps “The Time that Is Given Us” is a good book title.

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What does being a leader, in your sphere of influence, in the times given us, look like?

It means grounding yourself first thing, every day, with your true self and calling.  It means standing firmly on what you advocate.  It means speaking and acting in ways to make it clear where you are headed. 

Preaching to myself, you’re welcome to listen:  If you don’t speak up, perhaps no one will.  It’s best to assume that no one else will say what you’re going to say.  So say it.

There are so many times when I should have spoken up and didn’t.  Times when I should have unleashed my talents and abilities, and didn’t.  Times when I allowed myself to be distracted from my calling.  Times when I’ve been afraid of the consequences of my calling, and Jonah-like, went the opposite direction. 

I share this so you understand why I must preach to myself.

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I want you to become charismatic.   Charisma is the quality that others find compelling and psychologically attractive. Charisma in practical terms is projecting the powerful combination of confidence and love, as perceived by others.  You can and should be charismatic to others, within your sphere of influence.  It may only be a small group of individuals, or perhaps only in certain situations.  What’s significant is that people sense your hope, optimism, and steadfastness. Your charisma empowers others and caps the power of fears and wickedness.

I reject the silly notions that charisma is only for a few, the elite, the anointed.  It’s entirely possible for you to be charismatic.  And needful.

(Sidebar: I’m not referring to a specific style of religious worship, or the Christian theological term specific to the Holy Spirit.  Charisma comes to English from the Greek charis, which means ‘gift.’  In Greek mythology Charis was one of the attendants of Aphrodite.)

The love expressed here is neither romantic nor dispassionate.  Love is wanting the best for others.  Most people have an intuitive sense of whether you want their best, or only want something from them.  I suspect that my readers truly do want the best for others.  When we’re with unlovely and harder-to-love people, we remind ourselves that we love because God first loved us. (1 John 4:19) The ‘love’ part of charisma isn’t their shortfall.  

I speak with so many people who struggle with confidence.  I get it, I do too.  Being confident and expressing it consistently is a battle.  I recommend you act your way into belief.  You can’t wait until all your feelings are perfectly aligned.  Accept your personal responsibility in doing this work.

The intellectual part of your confidence comes from appreciating the data available.  We have many reasons to be confident, even in uncertain times.  Review Our World in Data when you need tangible reminders of how much better the world is now, and the progress we’re making.   We live in an amazing world.  Skip the “headline news” for a day and focus on stories of people helping other people. Spend time in the natural world to refresh your senses.  https://ourworldindata.org/

The ‘gut’ part of your confidence comes from appreciating the story of our lives.  I remind myself and others that the view out the windshield is bigger than the rear-view mirror.  We always have the power of choice.  We have been given time and talents.  There is good work to be done, especially in our relationships.  Life has meaning, and we have purpose.  Challenging situations make us better.  We are the descendants of a great “cloud of witnesses” who met their challenges and found ways forward, and so will we. 

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Project your confidence and love to your sphere of influence.  Say what needs to be said.  Assume that if you don’t, no one will.  That’s your leadership opportunity.  Yes, speak with grace.  Yes, lead with actions not just words.  But speak! 

One of the themes of Antifragile is that preventing suffering, challenges, wild swings up and down, and consequences of choices is that systems become weaker rather than stronger.  This is true in economics, education, politics, and in our own bodies. 

Push yourself a little more these days, rather than always retreating to comfort.  We need you to be stronger, better, more seasoned.

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“But Glenn, you’ve studied history, you know how dangerous charismatic leaders can be!” 

Charisma is dangerous.  These times call for a bit of dangerous.

Charisma won’t get far without focused will.  I’ve known some remarkably charismatic people who never accomplished much and disappointed everyone because they couldn’t stay focused on a few primary things.  Let us focus our will on honorable and worthy things.  

Temper the naked power of charisma to persuade others to do things, even against their better judgment, by remaining humble.  Humility is foundational to all leadership.  The English word ‘humility’ comes from humus in Latin – literally, “dirt.”  I’ll share my little mantra:

You are not God.  This is not your universe.

You are not your own god.

You’re finite. You’re a tiny bit of the physical world, and a blip in time.  You will die.

You don’t know the Whole Story. 

You are wonderfully fashioned and have a purpose. 

You have a duty to use well all you’ve been given, and not for your glory.

You have significant responsibilities, but not for the whole world.

You are privileged to get to live in the times you’ve been given.

I want you to be charismatic, with a will tempered by self-control and noble purposes, grounded in humility.   That’s the leadership we need now.

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Let me help you in one more way.  Everyone is afraid. It’s not just you. But you can be the person who does the right and hard thing anyway. 

Many of my readers are significantly introverted – meaning, social interactions are fine with the right people, and numbingly awkward with everyone else. They’re uncomfortable in noisy, crowded situations.  They get embarrassed about things they’ve said.  They recognize they should be leading in some way, and too often fearful to do so.  They’re quick to see their faults and deficiencies.

Me, too. 

I share this to encourage you: I am better because I put my writing out there.  I am better because I share honestly and candidly.  I am better because I externalize a bit of my interior, which allows me to truly see it, and get feedback from others.  I am better because I force myself to articulate uncomfortable, fuzzy thoughts and ideas.  I am better because I engage with people and get my rough edges chiseled and sanded off.  I am better when I push past awkwardness and discomforting social situations.  We are better together. 

It’s accurate when God refers to His people as sheep in the Bible, but it’s not a compliment.  Sheep are quite stupid,  practically defenseless, and can’t clean themselves. Sheep do best in flocks and die alone.  There are necessary moments of loneliness, solitude, and discomfort.  But it is the enemy of all that is good that wants you truly isolated and alone.

In my last post I walked through the symptoms of our most pressing problems — but what are they, and how do we recover?

Let’s begin at the beginning:  Our most pressing problem is us.  You, me, we. 

It’s wrong to argue that the natural world is perfect in every way, and human beings are the absolute worst thing for the planet, and everything in the universe would be ‘effin better if all the people were dead.  Or at least, you know, THOSE people.  That’s the basis for dissolution and disintegration.  That is cynicism and wickedness which has only an appearance of wisdom.

It’s correct to argue that we are our own worst enemy when we behave like “sheep without a shepherd,” and “everyone did what was right in their own eyes.”  The historical and contemporary results of that experiment are plain.

How do we navigate this?  I suggest there are two key ideas, one civic, the other a command from Above. 

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The first words of the US Constitution are “We the people.”  You and I must be mature, deep individuals who work as we.  We can’t write off people who disagree over tactics and means when we have the same hopeful end desires.  We should not break fellowship with other citizens over smaller matters.  (There are, sadly, those who only want to destroy people and things, and they must be restrained and stopped.  Being mature and deep does not mean being naïve.  The Tao brings forward an important tension: avoid violence where you can, and do not be weak.)  Our strength must come from sustaining commitment to one another and our governing principles as fellow citizens. 

Let’s recover the spirit of Abraham Lincoln’s second inaugural address, spoken to an incredibly divided nation. We need the closing words:  “With malice toward none with charity for all with firmness in the right as God gives us to see the right let us strive on to finish the work we are in to bind up the nation’s wounds, to care for him who shall have borne the battle and for his widow and his orphan, to do all which may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselves and with all nations.”

The “win” comes if we will all sit on the same side of the table, looking at our challenges and opportunities together, and committing ourselves to work towards hope and a bigger future.   Political parties and the news-tainment business in their default modes aren’t going to get us there because their incentive structures are built on angry divisions.  You and I are unlikely to make sacrifices or even concessions to ‘enemies’ opposite to us, but we will for citizens on the same side of the table.  We’ll know we’re making progress when we again speak about political opponents as “the loyal opposition.”

We must learn to dialogue and debate ideas again as a people, listening to learn and decide.  This will be hard. We’ve lost the critical mass of citizens who know how to practice these things.  The original Greek purpose of rhetoric was to enable communities to thrive.  We must recapture the ability to wrestle with ideas and practices without violence.  You and I must model the ability to differentiate criticisms of ideas and methods from criticisms of our fellow citizens. 

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The second step to navigate forward is to obey the second most important commandment: “Love your neighbor as yourself.”  (This is difficult to do if you don’t obey the most important commandment, but that’s for another newsletter.)

I brought this up in a conversation recently.  Other voiced things I’ve also thought on occasion:

“It’s not possible to live with these people!”

“They’re hopeless morons.”

“Mr. Rogers didn’t prepare me for these neighbors.”

“He’s not my president, I didn’t vote for him.”

This is why the parable of the Good Samaritan is so helpful to us.  The enmity between Jews and Samaritans, living under despised Roman occupation, feels contemporary to divisions and outright hatreds expressed today. 

We like this parable in the abstract, but we want loopholes and exceptions in our day-to-day life.  Read this slowly and prayerfully:

Just then a religion scholar stood up with a question to test Jesus. “Teacher, what do I need to do to get eternal life?”

He answered, “What’s written in God’s Law? How do you interpret it?”

He said, “That you love the Lord your God with all your passion and prayer and muscle and intelligence—and that you love your neighbor as well as you do yourself.”

 “Good answer!” said Jesus. “Do it and you’ll live.”

Looking for a loophole, he asked, “And just how would you define ‘neighbor’?”

Jesus answered by telling a story. “There was once a man traveling from Jerusalem to Jericho. On the way he was attacked by robbers. They took his clothes, beat him up, and went off leaving him half-dead. Luckily, a priest was on his way down the same road, but when he saw him he angled across to the other side. Then a Levite religious man showed up; he also avoided the injured man.

 “A Samaritan traveling the road came on him. When he saw the man’s condition, his heart went out to him. He gave him first aid, disinfecting and bandaging his wounds. Then he lifted him onto his donkey, led him to an inn, and made him comfortable. In the morning he took out two silver coins and gave them to the innkeeper, saying, ‘Take good care of him. If it costs any more, put it on my bill—I’ll pay you on my way back.’

 “What do you think? Which of the three became a neighbor to the man attacked by robbers?”

“The one who treated him kindly,” the religion scholar responded.

Jesus said, “Go and do the same.”  (Luke 10:25-37, MSG)

It’s no accident that Jesus focused on neighbors, not abstract people groups or classes or nations.  Neighbors.  Neighbors are people living in and adjacent to our sphere of influence, even the ones who irritate us, ignore us, or are at least as selfish as we are.  Also notice in Jesus’ parable:  the Samaritan became a neighbor, even though he wasn’t one before.

It’s possible to get to know neighbors as glorious individuals, wondrous yet loaded with eccentric foibles and faults.  It’s difficult to make flesh-and-blood neighbors into abstractions which cannot feel and think for themselves, and whose only purpose is to service your preferences.

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Practice the civic “We the People,” and love our neighbors.  I treasure the blunt feedback I hear from one of my friends.  “Glenn, I love ‘ya, but you’re so damn impractical.”  

In The Fellowship of the Ring, Frodo wishes the One Ring had never come to him.

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.

“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

The choice is ours.

A reader wrote me. “Glenn, in a recent newsletter you mentioned that ai can’t solve our most pressing problems.  What do you think those are?”

People living in the United States have, by historical standards, an incredibly high standard of living.  If stuff could make people happy, we’d be insanely happy as a people.  If an abundance of information and entertainment could make people happy, we’d be ecstatic every hour of the day.  Yet survey after survey provides data about the unhappiness of millions. 

First, let’s review symptoms and markers of trends:

• Escalating personal and government debt.
   
• Increased fatherlessness
  
  
• Significant drug and alcohol addictions, and suicide.  The US has been losing over 100,000 people to drug overdoses and fentanyl poisoning and about 50,000 people kill themselves, annually.  Mental health measures continue to decline.  (Yes, I’m aware of a recent drop in overdoses – let’s pray that trend continues!)

• Plummeting education results, K through 12, and college/university.   

• Decreasing % of the population is working.  The majority of new job openings are part-time or government positions. 

• Seriously declining attendance at religious services.  This is a long-term trend, accelerated by the pandemic. 

• More than half of US adults do not believe their children will enjoy a better life than they have. 

• Spiking distrust of institutions of all kinds.

• Increasing censorship.

• Increasing porn.  One example: OnlyFans now had 4.1M creators and 305M users paying $6.6B last year.

All these are measures and symptoms of the pressing problems.  You might well add other symptoms to this list. A doctor might say these are the ‘presenting symptoms’ but not the root cause.  

It’s puzzling where to start to identify root causes.  A wise friend of mine says ruefully, “We created barbarians inside the gate.  We’ve done this to ourselves.”  She and I discuss the Dunning-Kruger effect, which describes why poorly informed people are supremely confident they are correct.  Shallowness is amplified, depth is under-valued. Our collective frameworks for interpreting information have become warped and untrustworthy.  Our fragmentation acts as an accelerant; our governing systems continue but are hollowed out of substance.  Somehow, we’ve arrived at a point in time when moral authority is expressed in anger and hate.  The teleois of the age is power for domination.  Outrage at hurts caused by others is leveraged into a source of identity.  Other people, rather than ideas and practices, are perceived as “the enemy of all that is good.”

Pride, insecurity, and immaturity add more fuel for the fires of dehumanization.  These are the source of our worst behaviors individually and collectively.  (Search the Bible – there is not a single positive use of the words ‘pride’ or ‘proud.’)  Great power players exploit this reality.  

How do we recover? That’s for the next blog post.

We are not worms, barely tolerated by God.  We are so loved!  Not despised by God.  He should be far angrier with us than He is.  His generosity to us is beyond measure.  Yes, He disciplines us (not pleasant!), but it is to mature us and pull us back to him.  Yes, He allows suffering, but has arranged it to build our character, producing endurance (see Romans 5:3). 

Sidebar:  I am routinely asked by my agnostic and atheist friends to explain why suffering exists if God is good.  I have borrowed the statement, “Yes, Christians must explain suffering, and non-believers must explain everything else” before sharing what the New Testament tells us about suffering. 

We learn in the first chapters of Genesis that God created the world as a good thing.  He created humans to rule and steward it as His agents.  This is why we’re created in the image of God.  He declared Adam (the Hebrew word for human) as ‘very good.’  All creation – including Adam as intended– reflect the glory of God and praise Him continually.

If God hates us, or barely tolerates us, why would He tell us that we’re individually hand-made (Psalm 139:13)?  Why would he lavish grace (Ephesians 1:8) and blessings on us?

This is a lie. 

You cannot fulfill your calling if you believe God hates you and therefore you should hate yourself.

Lies and lawlessness poisons good discourse on complex subjects.  Two examples:

Our climate is changing (as it has done throughout history). Al Gore’s “Inconvenient Truth” presentation was loaded with lies.  He hammered home an agenda with selective data and manipulated data presentation.  Example:  the UN forecast he cited was 10 foot ocean rise by 2100, yet his global map showed a 100 foot rise because 10 feet didn’t alter the coastline dramatically enough.  This presentation persuaded millions of people to believe in an immediate and existential threat to the planet.  Now it is quite difficult to have a reasonable dialogue with broader data about what can and should be done.

Immigration to the US can be an important positive good, bringing in talent, energy for innovation and entrepreneurship, and supporting our demographics.  The Bible has much to say about how we treat migrants.  The current administration policy is violating established law.  The effects and backlash is such that now a conversation about positive controlled immigration is far more difficult. 

Watch for this pattern.  The correct response is still to seek out opportunities for good discourse.

Do I lack patience, or do I lack the courage to remain in the moment and in the season?

Am I just being lazy, or do I lack the courage to lean into that far-far-better thing that I’m called to accomplish?

Do I love that person enough to confront them, or do I lack the courage to do it?

It’s not hard to grasp why our ancestors considered courage the first virtue.  What good happens without courage?

A reader agreed with my assessment of troubled years ahead and asked my thoughts on how civic leaders could navigate the turbulence, especially financially.   My outline for him:

Prioritize spending:

                National security – military, food, critical supplies, energy, cyber

                Civic security – law and order, local leadership responsibility

                Investing in infrastructure and capacity – people, facilities, health, fundamental innovation

                Provide incentives for entrepreneurs and business owners

Implement means testing for benefits, and recover the Victorian idea of the “deserving poor vs. the undeserving poor”

Pay down debts

Require adults being adults:

                The “man on the street” must understand the necessity to bear more burdens because the reality of our collective situation.  Decisions and promises in the past created consequences we now must live through. We must celebrate maturity rather than indulging immaturity.

                The wealthy and investors need to accept, as Cicero suggested, that half a loaf is better than a full loaf with rebellion and anarchy.

                Politicians must accept that doing the right thing might not help their re-election.

Churches must step up to care for both souls and physical needs.  This will require less energy on narrow matters and more focus on the authority of Christ and practice walking in step with the Spirit. 

There is much more to say but I would begin with these.

I recently heard a brilliant pair of questions from James Tour, a materials scientist exploring the origin of life:

“A cell just died.  All the material components are still there.  What was lost?  And how would we restart it?”

That’s a useful way to think about the past of teams and organizations.  We had a high-performing team for a time, and then we didn’t.  There were those special days in the non-profit when everyone was in sync, and somehow it came undone. At one point the project was chunking along, hitting milestones, and then we foundered and sputtered.  There was a shining time, full of struggles, where trust was high, and then we collapsed into a low-trust, zero-sum set of arguments and excuses.  What was lost?  And how would we restart it?

The mystery of organizational dynamics is akin to the mystery of life in a single cell.  Fractal!  

One can see the pattern in marriages, friendships, neighborhoods, and volunteer associations, too.  There are special intangibles, moments and seasons, seemingly robust and endless — and in the end you realize they’re fragile. 

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One moment after a person dies, all the physical components are still there.  You can recover organs from the corpse for a few hours which will be viable when transplanted into a living person.  Heart, kidneys, liver, corneas, skin.  I’ve been present at multiple deaths; one moment someone is there, and the next moment they’re a corpse. What was lost when the person died? 

The idea that life is a meta property of the physical seems a poor fit to the observable data.  Is Genesis 2:7 more reasonable? “[T]hen the Lord God formed the man of dust from the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living creature.”

I make this argument for my areligious friends because we know from history what happens when you adopt the view that humans are nothing more than a transiently cohesive bunch of atoms, and we substitute the State or ourselves as an ultimate authority.  I wish more people were taught the full horrors of the 20^th century; what the Nazis did was a sliver of what the Communists did.

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Dennis Prager asks atheists a revealing question: “Do you hope that you’re right or you’re wrong?”  An atheist who hopes he’s correct is a fool.  Not all atheists are fools, just as not all religious people are wise.

When I think about heaven and what that will be like, I tend to imagine reunion with my parents and grandparents.  I imagine doing creative work unconstrained by sin and bodily weakness.  (As I age I resonate more with the older people arriving in Aslan’s country in The Last Battle by C.S. Lewis who remark, “I chiefly feel unstiffened.”)  What I should think about most of all is being in the presence of God, the central reality of heaven.  The fact I don’t think about this first tells me (1) I’m not thinking biblically enough, and (2) I am still immature. 

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Loneliness is a kind of death, a separation from community which sustains us.  Restarting relationships and community is difficult once loneliness becomes your primary companion.  I have a friend who points out that all formation happens in the whitespace between individuals.  We long for community.

Many of my readers are significantly introverted – meaning, social interactions are fine with the right people, and numbingly awkward with everyone else. They’re uncomfortable in noisy, crowded situations.  They get embarrassed about things they’ve said.  They recognize they should be leading in some way, and too often fearful to do so.  They’re quick to see their faults and deficiencies.

Me, too. 

I share this to encourage you: I am better because I put my writing out there.  I am better because I share honestly and candidly.  I am better because I externalize a bit of my interior, which allows me to truly see it, and get feedback from others.  I am better because I force myself to articulate uncomfortable, fuzzy thoughts and ideas.  I am better because I engage with people and get my rough edges chiseled and sanded off.  I am better when I push past awkwardness and discomforting social situations.  We are better together. 

It’s accurate when God refers to His people as sheep in the Bible, but it’s not a compliment.  Sheep are quite stupid,  practically defenseless, and can’t clean themselves. Sheep do best in flocks and die alone.  There are necessary moments of loneliness, solitude, and discomfort.  But it is the enemy of all that is good that wants you truly isolated and alone.

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Perhaps what is lost at the moment of death is the togetherness connection, genuine but difficult to describe in engineering terms.   What do you think?