Middle Management

I am a bit of an anomaly among my peers in that I have spent almost all of my professional life in middle management. Sometimes it’s the best of both worlds, and sometimes it’s the worst; but for sure it’s different from many of my friends.

To simplify matters, let us consider that any organization, no matter how big or small and in whatever sector, has three layers of employees: the top dogs, the worker bees, and the people in the middle. For sure, each layer has its pros and cons. Top dogs have the most upside and the most power, but with that comes the stress and burden. Worker bees are least in control, but most able to leave work at work and to get really good at something specialized. People in the middle are like the center halfback on a soccer team, responsible for the whole field (left and right, offense and defense), which is both good and bad.

By the way, where you are may have little to do with how much money you make. After all, I know some worker bees who are really well-compensated software programmers and scientific researchers and electric engineers. And I know some top dogs who run very small and very underfunded non-profit organizations, who make hardly anything.

So what layer you are may have little to do with your earning power. Rather, it may have everything to do with what you are looking for in your work, and how important work is in your life. For many of my friends and colleagues, work is a vehicle for changing the world or for leaving your unique stamp on it. Being the top dog, whether in a government agency, social services organization, or entrepreneurial start-up, is the natural role for someone who sees work as a way to express oneself, live out one’s values, fulfill a vital public service, or right what’s wrong. The burden of the buck stopping at their desk (and the attendant long hours and/or high stress levels) is a burden they gladly bear because they accept the responsibility for their organization and for their cause. Not that they don’t value spouse and kids and church involvement and community service; but when there is a conflict in time and brain space, those things don’t always win.

For many of my friends and colleagues, work means taking pride in your craft, but is otherwise a vehicle for supporting your family. Being a worker bee, whether in a research lab, engineering firm, or computer company, is the natural role for someone who seeks to maximize compensation and minimize excess stomach acid. Not that these guys and gals are slackers, or don't feel pressure, or don't work long hours; far from it. But work doesn’t matter outside of work - you rarely hear these worker bees talk about their jobs outside of their job setting – and can be easily left there in order to focus on something else, like raising a family or serving in a church. As you might imagine, many of my friends who are Asian and/or Christian fall into this category, given our value on children and/or on ministry.

Neither group is inherently guiltier or holier than the other. Both are commendable approaches to work and life – one acknowledges that we spend a lot of time working and so we ought to figure out how to make it mean something, and one acknowledges that there is more to life than work and that it is just fine to do a honest day’s work but otherwise focus one’s efforts on more valuable things like family and faith. And both are fraught with the opportunity to be idolatrous and arrogant and misguided – one can quickly turn their job into an idol, while one can quickly turn their true focus into an idol.

So which am I? A little of both, which befits my general tendency to want to play center halfback and to aspire to the best of both worlds. I enjoy working, and want my work to mean something; but by choice and by circumstance, I have many pursuits and responsibilities outside of work and so welcome the opportunity to leave work at work and cultivate other aspects of my life. Thankfully, my temperament allows me to be in middle management; and thankfully, my employer and my employment situation is such that I can work hard at work (and satisfy myself in that way) but also enjoy some semblance of work-life balance (and satisfy myself in that way).

I guess that makes me fortunate, which I am, and I acknowledge that. Still, I cannot help but envy my peers at times. Sometimes it is those whose life situation and personal characteristics enable them to pursue a “top dog” position, with all of the attendant goods and bads that go with it. And sometimes it is those who have chosen to be a “worker bee,” doing good work and making good money but otherwise free in time and brain space to pursue other more important pursuits.

To further complicate matters, life situations change over time. Parenting kids is a role that changes as the kids get older. Our own stomach to put in the hours or bear the stress or pursue a dream may rise and fall depending on where we are in life. If we are married, we must add in the perspectives and the shifts of another adult whom we have committed to, and synch up our dreams and pursuits with theirs.

For much of the first fifteen years of my professional career, my solution has been to try to have the best of both worlds by being in middle management. It is, in and of itself, a fun place to be in an organization, just like playing center halfback on a soccer field. And, it lends itself to its own unique opportunities and constraints as it relates to balancing work within an overall portfolio of activities that make up your whole life. Who knows what life will bring next, but that’s where I am for now.

Class Notes

Given my interest in the existence and manifestations of class in my life, my city, and my country, it comes as no surprise that I have enjoyed reading Paul Fussell’s slightly tongue in cheek book, “Class: A Guide through the American Status System.” Fussell correctly points out that class is fuzzier than just how much money you make or how fancy your clothes are; it is subtle and multi-faceted and unspoken, but no less real and no less demarcating.

Regular readers of my blog know the issue of class is one I muse on a lot. Some may wonder why my fixation, either because “who cares” or else “there are no classes in America.” To be sure, one can overemphasize this issue, as with race. But, as with race, it is likely our problem is not overemphasis but rather denial. Better to be honest about our classism than to further implicate ourselves through our vehement insistence that we are past that.

On that note, let us consider some of the ways we signal to others what class we belong to, and sort ourselves with others like us and away from others not like us (as with Fussell, I focus only on things we can change, so for this list I ignore the racial angles):

• Profession (what sector, what job type, what level within the organization)
• Education (degrees, institutions)
• Home location (what part of the city, what school district)
• Transportation (mode, number of available choices)
• Home décor (what we prioritize, how expensive our tastes are)
• Leisure activities (signaling how much money, free time, and refinement we have)
• Vacations (see “leisure activities” above)
• Physical appearance (grooming, attire, scents)
• Language (vocabulary, diction, accent)
• Kids (what they wear, where they go to school, what activities they do)

I’m probably missing a few categories, but you get the picture. If you are among those who protest that you are class-blind, and/or that there are no separate classes in this nation, ask yourself a few questions about these categories. How alike or different are you from others who are like you in these areas? How proud or ashamed are you to announce your characteristics to others? What do you think these characteristics signal to others about you?

Thanks to the wonders of social media sites like Facebook, Twitter, and YouTube, our ability to define ourselves to ourselves and others has never been easier or broader. Cynically, I wonder what status updates are other than carefully crafted messaging designed to cultivate our personal brand so as to situate ourselves within our unwritten class system. Our photos, our links to articles, and even our responses to others’ photos and articles, are all designed to reinforce something about ourselves that relates to what class we believe we are in or aspire to be in: that we are ghetto, or that we are refined, or that we are worldly, or that we are family-oriented.

I would submit to you that not only is class alive and well in America, but it is as rigid as it is real. If you disagree, ask yourself whether you would feel uncomfortably out of place if you tried something different. Depending on where you’re coming from, riding the bus or going to the opera or sending your kids to a certain school will seem so out of character that you can’t even fathom subjecting yourself and your family to it. We make the lamest excuses to keep from doing this – it’s inconvenient, I can’t afford it, my child won’t do well there – but I think fundamentally it is about the unstated but very real barriers that we place upon ourselves to go no higher or lower than what we understand our class boundaries to be.

On a more hopeful note, I think what is remarkable is not the existence of classes and class boundaries, but rather the many ways we all transcend those distinctions every day. Much of our world and much of our history is far more hierarchical and defined than modern-day America. Big cities in particular offer incredible agglomerations of different people from different walks of life circulating comfortably in a shared experience, whether it is kids playing in a park or shoppers meandering through the aisles of a big farmer’s market. As much as we may be hard-wired to classify ourselves, the American spirit is also uniquely egalitarian in its overall attitude, which, when combined with the right context, can create wonderful places where guards are lowered and people interface as equals.

Finally, a word to the Christians. Class was an issue in New Testament times, too, which makes the apostle Paul’s statement – “there is now no longer Jew or Gentile, slave or free, male and female” (Galatians 3:28) – so remarkable. And yet how many of our congregations are multi-class in nature? And how many of us are just as guilty as the world around us of working desperately to maintain an image to the outside world that is consistent with their class preferences? How many of us do big and small things (from moving to a new neighborhood or sending your kid to a different pre-school, to going to a public event or taking the bus) to build bridges with people vastly different in class from us, for the purposes of influencing those people for the Kingdom of God?

After all, the defining act of our Savior and Lord, who was literally in a class by Himself, was to lay aside that divine nature and become not only a human being but a lowly servant and a condemned criminal. (This same Savior or Lord shocked many by associating with society's dregs, although He counted the very rich and powerful among His acquaintances as well.) Let us who call ourselves Christians recognize the very real and very rigid class boundaries that threaten to divide us, and, imitating Jesus’ example, cross those boundaries in big ways and small ways, however uncomfortable that makes us, to love and live and empathize and serve.

A's for Philadelphia

I had the pleasure of attending a Phillies game this past weekend when my beloved A's were in town. Alas, the A's lost, 3-1, but there is no shame in losing to the great Roy Halladay, who it was clear was going to be going the distance from the outset; I had to stand and tip my hat, with 48,000+ delirious Phils fans, at the conclusion of the contest.

In addition to savoring this precious time away from family, I could not help but think of how good it is to live in a big city, especially one with such a dominant sports team (when I told my colleague, who scored us the tickets, that the Phils were the class of the NL, he corrected me: "you mean the class of all of baseball") and one with so many major people-draws going on at the same time (just this weekend included the Manayunk Arts Festival, the Philadelphia Triathlon, and Taste of Philadelphia). It's all good for the local economy, for team spirit, and for city lovers.

By the way, in case you're wondering, I took the 21 bus to the Broad Street Line to the stadium, and then the Broad Street line to the Market Frankford line to 40th Street on the way home, stopping by a local grocery store on the short walk home to top off our fruit inventory for the week. With the exception of my Saturday morning grocery shopping runs, I have used our car all of one time this month, to take the kids to visit a friend of mine in the suburbs this past Saturday. How's that for a green lifestyle? Thank you, Philly, for making it easy.

Lazy Linking, 49th in an Occasional Series

Stuff I liked lately on the Internets:

49.1. John Legend stops in on a church in West Philly at 61st and Haverford and sings some gospel. [Hat tip: West Philly Local.]

49.2. Speaking as an introvert, these ten myths about introverts are spot-on. [Hat tip: kottke.org.]

49.3. Are you an identical twin thinking of committing the perfect crime and framing your twin? Even though you have the same DNA, the dogs can tell you apart. [Hat tip: Marginal Revolution.]

49.4. Great great great article about Matt Damon, Gary White, and water.org. I blogged about this last week.

49.5. An insightful take on a controversial book - Jonathan Last looks at Mara Hvistendahl's new book on gender selection and abortion. I blogged about this last week.

Shark Teeth Have Me Zig Zagging All Over the City

Two nights ago at dinner, Jada says to me, “Daddy, look at my teeth!” OK, whatever. But sure enough, behind her bottom teeth are poking out the tops of her grown-up teeth. That’s weird. I look it up online after the kids go to bed, and a dentists’ blog (yes, dentists blog, too) calls this “shark’s teeth,” says it’s nothing to worry about, that the grown-up teeth have just decided to take a detour behind the baby teeth instead of pushing them out, that the teeth will turn out OK in the long run, but it’s probably worth having a pro look at it to see if the baby teeth should be removed so that the grown-up teeth will slide back to their proper position.

I called the dentist the next morning while at work to see when I could bring Jada in, and they quickly replied, “How about 1 o’clock today?” Wow, sooner than I thought. I was really hoping for beginning or end of a day, though, so I wouldn’t have to pull Jada from school and then put her back in. But the receptionist said next available wasn’t until August. Today at 1 o’clock it is, then!

I called over to Jada’s school to find out where she’d be right before (having lunch), moved a few things around, and headed over to her school to eat lunch with her and then get us downtown to the dentist’s office. Soon enough, we were numbing her teeth, injecting her with Novocaine, and janking those two little baby teeth out. Even with the roots somewhat intact (normally, those roots get dissolved by the grown-up teeth pushing against them), her teeth were so teeny!

She grunted a few times – once when she was getting shot up, and once each when the dentist pulled her two teeth – but was otherwise more calm than I was, nervous as I was about my baby having this procedure. At first after it was all over, she was a little weirded out by having to clamp down on a bloody piece of gauze, and feeling the general numbness of the area. But soon enough, she was her normal bouncy self as we headed out of the dentist’s office.

I decided to reward her bravery by heading to the nearby Gallery Mall to pick out a toy at Five Below. She soon landed on a Beany Baby, and then we picked out a dinosaur toy for Aaron. Then it was back on the subway and back to Jada’s school. If you’re counting out home, that’s six back-and-forth’s for the day – (1) from University City to Center City for work, dropping off kids at school en route, (2) back to University City to pick up Jada for her dental appointment, (3) to Center City for the dental appointment, (4) back to University City to drop Jada back off at school, (5) back to Center City to go back to work, and (6) back to University City to pick up kids and go home. Whew!

Well, we wore a hole in my subway pass, and we have two fewer baby teeth than when we started. But all is good. And, even with the gap, Jada’s smile is still golden.

All American Street

I had my first experience serving on a Technical Assistance Panel for Urban Land Institute yesterday. We were looking at a mixed-use infill concept in an industrial section of Philadelphia, on American Street. But I also found the walk to the site fascinating.

I've been so busy this week that I barely had time to take a quick peek at how I would get to the location by public transit, so didn't have much time to think about where I was going, so when I got off at the York-Dauphin Station on the Market-Frankford Line, I really had no idea where I was.

I quickly surmised that this is a heavily Hispanic section of the city, as evidenced by the storefront signs in Spanish and the colorful displays of the Virgin Mary in backyards. Then I was stopped cold by the biggest Puerto Rican flag I have ever seen. Actually, let me correct myself: it was the biggest flag of any kind that I have ever seen. So that was a pretty definitive marker of the neighborhood.

American Street is pretty funky, in that it is super-wide and historically industrial, and even with the significant reduction in industrial activity and employment over the past 60 years, the street is still dotted with trucks and factories and loading docks. And yet, turn down any side street and you are immediately in heavy residential. On the way in, these streets were largely empty, but on the way out, kids were playing frisbee in empty lots, women were chatting on the porch, and tough-looking young guys were blasting their stereos.

My Philadelphia existence is largely contained to University City and Center City, so it's fun to see other parts. What a colorful and diverse city it is.

Water Works

The closest I've ever gotten to Matt Damon is spying him from a half-block away while we were both in Toronto, me for a business conference and he for a film festival. Gary White, on the other hand, I had the pleasure of spending the 2008 British American Project conference with, as we were both first-time delegates. My favorite memory with him involves going to a water bar in Santa Monica, listening to a peroxide blonde with some, um, physical enhancements extol the virtues of their desalinization process, and then have Gary debunk each one of her claims once we had left the place.

I bring up Damon and White because the two of them have teamed up on an issue of grave consequence thrhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifoughout the developing world, which is water access. I loved loved loved this feature in this month's Fast Company - "Can Matt Damon Bring Clean Water to Africa?" - on so many levels.

First, I'm a big Matt Damon fan, not only his movies but his overall likability as a person.

Second, Gary is the nicest guy, and it's great to see his organization get such favorable press.

Third, water access, however unsexy a cause, is so vital, and progress so achievable if only we will put forth the energy and intelligence.

Finally, the article correctly focuses on a subtle but important paradigm shift in water access, which is going from parachuting in to build a well, snap a photo, and cut a ribbon, to building the local investment (human and financial) to make sure the thing works over time.

Kudos to Damon and White. I can't say enough about good this is.

Kindergarten Done, Now On to Grad School

Yesterday was Jada's last day of kindergarten. Just as I had gone into the cafeteria with Jada for breakfast for her first day, so I did yesterday. As we sat there quietly, I could not help but think of how much my baby has grown up during this school year. I am so thankful to God, to Penn Alexander, and to Ms. Silver and Ms. Wuschnia for all of Jada's positive development.

It's not uncommon for kids to regress a bit during the summer, and on one level, that's fine by me, as what's being a kid if it isn't just having a whole long summer ahead of you to play and veg. Nevertheless, partly because I am Type A and partly because Jada is still lagging in many key areas, I will continue to put the pedal to the metal on the learning stuff.

For one, I've asked her to pick a book or two every night to read the following morning and fill out a very brief book report form in which she answers three questions: what is the name of the book, what is it about, and why do you like it. Amy bought Jada a handful of chapter books, which are all the rage among her friends, and we think Jada is ready for them, so these will get book reported as well (albeit not at the rate of one or two a day, of course). Sure enough, she has enjoyed reading them, especially reading them to Aaron after Amy and I leave their bedroom for them to go to bed.

I'm also thinking of assigning her some math homework, and/or finding some fun math-related workbook to work through, which she seems to enjoy, and which will keep her number skills sharp. Aaron we're focusing on just getting his letters and numbers, so it's slow going but hopefully slow but steady.

Looking ahead some more, though I have tried to avoid over-scheduling the kids, I think it's time for Jada at least to learn how to take something on and see it through. Believe it or not, I actually don't care what that activity is; for example, I don't see piano as being inherently superior to dance. What is important, in my mind, is that Jada learns that a craft takes time and repetition and practice and effort to get better at; that, more than the craft itself, is hopefully the long-term takeaway.

What works as the activity is unknown as of now, given how narrowly we define our world in terms of wanting to minimize cost and commute and inconvenience. Thankfully, we live in a big city and have many friends whose brains I can pick. Still, I welcome any ideas you all might have. Thanks for following us along the way; we've reached one milestone with Jada in completing kindergarten, and hopefully many more milestones await our precious little girl.

Earth Needs Women

I thoroughly enjoyed this book review in Monday's Wall Street Journal: "The War Against Girls." Mara Hvistendahl's "Unnatural Selection" sounds the alarm about the unsustainable and ominous gender imbalances caused by parents seeking baby boys over baby girls. This happens a lot in China, given the desire for a son to carry on the family name, as well as the severe financial penalties for having more than one child; as ultrasounds have become more readily available, abortions of girls have spiked, leading to some ridiculous boy-girl ratios in some villages.

Of course I cannot help but think of an unwanted Chinese baby girl who was not aborted but was rather brought to term six years ago, abandoned, and then through the wonders of the adoption process (and by the sovereign hand of the Almighty) introduced into our family. By the grace of God, Jada did not become one of an estimated 163 million girls not born due to abortion since the 1970's, when the developing world first had access to gender identifying technology in utero.

The book review also duly notices how the author twists herself in knots calling attention to this atrocity while still upholding a woman's right to have an abortion. Apologies to my many friends who are pro-choice, but you are all just plain wrong on this issue, and Hvistendahl's verbal gymnastics betray the difficulty of holding a position that considers the intentional destruction of a fetus a viable option.

If we hold life to be sacred, as sacred as it gets, then I fail to see how one can differentiate between ending it because you don't like its gender, because it is physically or mentally defected, or because you simply don't want it to see the light of day. I know a lot of women, and some are worthier than others, but I'm prettier sure that if any or all of those 163 million aborted in the last 40 years had made it to life, the world would be a better place and not a worse place for it.

Not Like Us

Earlier this month, I was able to catch up with two old high school buddies of mine while I was in San Diego for a conference. Actually, these two friendships date back to sixth grade, which means I've known these guys for 27 years, or over two-thirds of my life. Even better, both, who grew up in the church, have continued their faith journeys, and are active in their congregation and have lovely wives and kids.

Maybe it was because I was missing my own kids, and seeing the parallels between their kids and mine (both have older daughters and younger sons around the same age as Jada and Aaron), but I could not help but smile as I watched these little rugrats running around. I think what made me particularly happy was seeing in these kids a glimpse of my own friends, both in terms of physical features as well as mannerisms and temperament.

It must be so delightful to have biological children. Here you are, making another human life with the one you love the most, and even better, that child is an amalgam of the two of you. As they grow, different aspects of you will surface, both through your outward instruction and through your DNA that you have passed on to them.

It is, of course, not something Amy and I can claim, since our kids are adopted. And there is sadness and loss associated with that. It may seem egotistical to want to see a little version of yourself, to want your kids to be like you in trivial as well as substantive things. But I think it is only natural, and for sure those who are fortunate enough to have biological children have told me it is one of the great pleasures in life.

Instead, Amy and I have two in our household who do not share any of our genes. And oftentimes, it shows: by temperament, our two are not at all like us. Every once in awhile, you hear them say or want something that reminds you of yourself, but more often than not, Amy and I look at each other and say or think to ourselves, "Who are these guys?" This is always said in jest, as we roll our eyes at how different our kids are from us. But there is a lament in that as well.

Don't get me wrong: we love Aaron and Jada with the same ferocity, the same tenderness, the same commitment as other parents. But while the responsibility is the same, the relationship is not quite the same. It is something we will mourn, even as we have much to rejoice in to God for giving us our two.

Sermon Transcript: The Story of the Loving Father Who Bruised, Condemned, and Abandoned His Perfect Son (And Why This is Good News for Us All)

Here's a transcript from my Father's Day sermon yesterday.

***

Who killed Jesus? Who killed Jesus?

This provocative question was much discussed a few years back, when Mel Gibson’s movie, “The Passion of the Christ,” was released. The movie, which is a brutally realistic portrayal of Jesus’ last days on earth, was controversial at the time because it portrayed the Jewish people as a bloodthirsty mob dead-set on executing Jesus, thus resurrecting old accusations that the Jews were responsible for the death of the Savior and Lord of the Christian religion.

Much of that debate was unnecessarily confrontational. But the original question – who killed Jesus – is a fair one to ask. So I ask you: who killed Jesus?

Do the Jewish masses bear responsibility for giving their once-popular itinerant rabbi up to be condemned? When given the chance to spare Jesus from death, they instead asked for the release of a revolutionary murder, Barabbas. What their reasons were, I cannot say I totally know: was it mob mentality, disappointment that this alleged savior wasn't taking on their Roman oppressors, or religious fervor that a mere man would claim to be divine? They played their part in ramrodding Jesus through a dubious legal proceeding.

What about Pontius Pilate? That Jesus claimed to be King of the Jews and Son of God didn't evoke any feelings in him; he seemed quite puzzled about why the Jews were all in a froth about this plain-looking carpenter. But he had his chances to do right, and instead protected his reputation (and perhaps his personal safety) by doing as the feverish mob desired.

What about the Roman soldiers who carried out this gruesome form of capital punishment? They were the ones who nailed Jesus to the cross and lifted Him up to die a very public and humiliating death. They seemed to relish the ease by which they were bullying around this alleged man of miracles. Surely they played a significant role in the death of Jesus.

People who are familiar with the gospel message will say that we all are at fault. Everyone knows that Jesus died for the sins of the world, so it was really our sins that sent Jesus to the cross. Do we in our sinfulness have Jesus' blood on our hands?

So who killed Jesus? Was it the Jews? Pontius Pilate? The Roman soldiers? Sinful humanity? All of the above? I know the answer to this question. Who killed Jesus? God did. God did. And it pleased Him.

This is the story of the loving Father who bruised, condemned, and abandoned His perfect Son, and who did it with pleasure. And it is a story that is good news – the best news – for us all.

In order to understand anything about the Christian faith, about the Christian narrative, about the Christian journey, it is necessary to sit for a minute in two great tensions.

First, God delights in His Son. And yet He takes pleasure in crushing Him and putting Him to grief.

Second, God is perfectly holy, holiness cannot co-exist with sin, and we are as a human race utterly sinful. And yet God is for us, loves us, chases us down with His goodness and mercy.

We will resolve these two tensions soon. But I want you to sit with me for a minute in these two tensions.

First, God delights in His Son, and yet He takes pleasure in crushing Him and putting Him to grief.

God delights in His Son because He sees in His Son the perfect reflection of His own perfection. Consider that when we look at our own children and see them excel in ways we once excelled, it fills us with pride and joy and happiness. How much more does God delight in His perfect Son.

Actually, three ways more. The Son is far more like the Father than our children are like ourselves. The Father is a far greater being to emulate than we are. And the areas in which the Son reflects the Father are far more worthy of taking pride in. So if our hearts swell with pleasure when we see our own children reflecting our good traits, how much more does the perfect Father delight in the perfect Son.

And yet. And yet, the relationship between the perfect Father and the perfect Son contains an episode in which the Father takes pleasure in crushing His Son and putting Him to grief. [Read Isaiah 53:10.]

Not only does this divine relationship contain this shocking episode, but it is a defining episode in the relationship. It is not subsidiary to the more important parts of the relationship, not secondary to other more crucial roles the Father and the Son play. No, it is at the core of what the Father and the Son are all about.

If you did not grow up in the church or were not inoculated by the general knowledge of the Christian faith in modern American society, you might find Christianity very, very odd, for it speaks of a perfect Father who delights in His perfect Son because that perfect Son reflects Himself perfectly, and yet that perfect Father also delights in bruising that perfect Son, bruising Him and condemning Him and abandoning Him. How does this make sense? There is tension here.

Second, God is perfectly holy, holiness cannot co-exist with sin, we are as a human race utterly sinful, and yet God is for us, loves us, chases us down with His goodness and mercy.

This one takes a little bit more explanation to get into, because we have become so casual about sin that the dissonance of God’s holiness and our sinfulness doesn’t have the same bite as it once did. But mark my words, if you came face to face with the Almighty, I don’t care how moral or upstanding or compassionate you are, you will come undone in the recognition of your sinfulness in the presence of perfect holiness.

Over and over again, we see in the Bible people having divine encounters and coming undone as they realize how incompatible their depravity is in the midst of such holiness. Recall Isaiah seeing the angels worshipping God and crying out, “woe is me, for I am ruined, because I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips.” Or remember when Peter, the fisherman, goes fishing with Jesus, and Jesus helps him catch a huge catch of fish, and Peter realizes he is in the presence of more than just a really insightful teacher, he is in the presence of the divine, and he cries out in response, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!”

Our sinfulness is completely incompatible with God’s holiness. He cannot stand for our depravity, and we cannot stand In His holy presence.

And yet, it is the same sinful mankind that God says He loves with an everlasting love. It is the same wandering and defiant sheep for whom God says He will chase us down with His mercy and His everlasting love. How is this possible? How can a holy God love a sinful people? There is tension here.

And so here we are, sitting and perhaps squirming as we consider these two great unresolved tensions. God delights in His Son, and yet He takes pleasure in crushing Him and putting Him to grief. God is perfectly holy, holiness cannot co-exist with sin, we are as a human race utterly sinful, and yet God is for us, loves us, chases us down with His goodness and mercy.

The redemption story is like a gripping movie in which you are literally hurting to get to the end so that everything that is awry can get tied up neatly. Or a great symphony with two themes, grand but dissonant, just begging for resolution in the end. How does this all get resolved? How can this all get resolved?

The resolution is the loving Father bruising, condemning, and abandoning His perfect Son, and taking pleasure in it.

I think I speak for all parents when I say that if I had to take a child of mine and bruise, condemn, and abandon him, I would reply, “Which child are we talking about?”

Seriously though, think of how gut-wrenching this is. The Father harms the Son. [Read Isaiah 52:14.] This is hard enough. But then the Father condemns the Son. [Read Isaiah 53:4.] This would hurt me even more. And finally, the Father abandons the Son. [Read Isaiah 53:8.] This I could not do.

Why? How? Why would the Father do this to the Son He loves? And how could He take pleasure in it?

This is the climax of the redemption story. Consider what the Son is going through in this most explosive moment. He has faithfully and perfectly submitted His living to His Father, and now He is faithfully and perfectly submitting His dying to His Father.

But wait, it is even more terrible than that. Martyrs for the Christian faith have been observed experiencing the most otherworldly peace and happiness on the very brink of death. While they are suffering the ultimate loss, and have perhaps suffered great bodily and emotional harm in the run-up, they are comforted by the presence of God and the promise of seeing Him face to face very soon.

Not with the Son at the climax of the redemption story. For part of His journey is not only to suffer according to the Father’s will, and to die according to the Father’s will, but to be abandoned by the Father in the very moment of maximum anguish.

On the cross, Jesus cries out, “My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?” How lonely an end to a life lived in full submission to His Heavenly Father, to be bruised, condemned, and abandoned by that same Father.

The Son, once so popular He could hardly have a private moment, is now all alone. His closest friends have renounced Him, His rabid followers have forsaken Him. [Read Isaiah 53:3.] The sun has set by noon, so even light has deserted Him. And, as He hangs on that cross, His life is leaving Him.

But the hardest abandonment of them all is the abandonment of His loving Father. “My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?”

Why indeed? Why does the loving Father, who glories in His perfect Son, bruise and condemn and abandon that very Son? And why does He take pleasure in it?

This is the climax of the redemption story. This is the resolution of those two great tensions I spoke of earlier. God is not uncaring of His Son, and He is not uncaring of the offensivness of our sin and the judgment our sin warrants. He does not compromise, and He is not painted into corner. Rather, He has made a glorious way to reconcile these two great tensions, and so God is glorified, and this brings Him great delight.

The message of the cross, of a perfect Son being bruised, condemned, and abandoned to redeem sinful man, brings pleasure to God because it simultaneously upholds three things that are supremely important to Him.

First, it upholds His glory by punishing sin commensurate to the punishment that it warrants. [Read Isaiah 53:5-6.]

Second, it upholds His delight in His Son, because by this great transaction – the perfect Son submitting to death, even to death on a cross, in order to redeem sinful and imperfect men and women – the Son assumes His rightful place in glory, that one day every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that He is Lord, to the glory (and might I add, delight) of God the Father. The bruising, condemning, and abandoning of the perfect Son by the loving Father? That is temporary. The glory that it results in? That is permanent. [Read Isaiah 52:13.]

Third, it upholds God’s great love for us without compromising His glory and holiness. [Read Isaiah 53:11-12.] Where we could not make a way back to God, He has made a way for us. And He did it not because He was boxed in, not because He softened up, not because He was convinced otherwise.

He did it in love and for pleasure. This is profoundly good news for us: the loving Father delights in the bruising, condemning, and abandoning of His perfect Son not only because it upholds the Father’s glory and holiness, not only because it honors and exalts the perfect Son, but because the Father loves us, and so the climax of the redemption story brings Him pleasure because He has made a glorious way to bring us back into right relationship with Him.

I do not claim to know why this is. It is not because we are inherently lovely; our depravity, in light of God’s holiness, eliminates that as a reason. It is not because God is somehow insecure or lonely or needy. He is perfectly satisfied in Himself and in the perfect image that His Son represents.

I do not know why God loves us. But I do know that He does. And the proof is the pleasure He takes in bruising, condemning, and abandoning His perfect Son.

God loves us. And He does with a ferocity, a tenderness, a longsuffering, a chasing down that, well, how can we not be overcome, cleansed, transformed by such a love?

In his book, “Pleasures of God: Meditations on God’s Delight in Being God,” which has been a foundational book for my spiritual journey and a repeated influence on today’s sermon, John Piper talks about the parable of the Prodigal Son, in which the son who shamed his father and left home returns, and the father, seeing his son return from afar, races out to greet him. This is what Piper writes. [Read excerpt from Piper book.]

Today is Father’s Day. It is a day we celebrate fathers. Across the country, we seek to honor and edify our fathers in a special way. We may even take a moment to contemplate fatherhood at a deeper level: our own fathering of our own kids, and our own fathers and their role in our lives. All well and good.

But I am here to tell you that every day is Father’s Day, in the sense that every day is a day in which our Heavenly Father loves you. He is perfectly holy and you are not. But He has done something so glorious that it brings Him great pleasure. He has bruised, condemned, and abandoned His perfect Son, to redeem you to Himself and into relationship with Him.

The Son in whom He delights was pierced and crushed, the iniquity of us all placed upon Him, such that at the moment of greatest anguish and sorrow, instead of divine comfort and fervent hope, He cried out, “My God, my God, why have You forsaken Me?”

That perfect Son is now seated in glory. The two great tensions of the redemption story have been marvelously resolved. God delights in His Son, and yet He takes pleasure in crushing Him and putting Him to grief. God is perfectly holy, holiness cannot coexist with sin, and we are as a human race utterly sinful, and yet God is for us, loves us, chases us down with His goodness and mercy.

The bruising, condemning, and abandoning of the perfect Son by the loving Father has made this all possible. The tensions are resolved, and the loving Father is unimaginably delighted. His holiness is upheld, His Son is rightly honored, and His people, who He loves enough to chase down, have been successfully and irreversibly redeemed.

All that is left is for us to accept, to bask in such a love, and to multiply our delight and God’s by playing our role in telling others of such a loving Father. Amen.

42, 48, 32, 21, Hike

Another Huang kids Saturday morning excursion, this one aided by the SEPTA bus system. Behold:

8:30a - A quick check on the website shows a bus is due a block from our house in five minutes. On weekends, the schedule is likely to be right, since traffic is light. Sure enough, we head out for the bus stop and the 42 bus appears within minutes to whisk us downtown.

9:00a - The African American Museum is hosting its Juneteenth celebration, which means admission is free. The kids opt out of a Zumba workout taking place in the auditorium, choosing instead to make fun of me as I try to keep up.

10:00a - Franklin Square is a couple of blocks away, so we partake of the nice playground there before cutting over a couple more blocks to grab pastries in Chinatown. From there, we hit a grocery store for sweet buns and bean sprouts. Including a token contribution to the African American Museum, we've spent a grand total of twelve dollars so far, and that will be the extent of our expenditures for the remainder of our outing.

11:00a - The 48 bus arrives just as we leave the grocery store, so we grab it and ride it until 19th, where we debark and walk a block to the Academy of Natural Sciences, where we have scored free admission through Aaron's school. Even better, participants receive a huge tote bag full of toys and activities. The museum offers a goodly amount of fun for the kids, from a live animal show to a butterfly exhibit to a dinosaur bone dig to a plant pot decorating workshop.

12:30p - We exit on the 19th Street side and just miss a 32 bus, but another one arrives right behind it. We take it a few blocks, get off, walk two blocks, and grab the 21 home. With not many intermediate stops, we are home within minutes, the kids skipping because of all the fun they had and me trudging because I'm hauling two bags full of kid crap and groceries. Hey, I can't complain: we got a bunch of free stuff, the buses worked in our favor, and the kids got some exercise traipsing around downtown. Life's good.

Knowing What I Don’t Know

A flurry of travel has made life a little crazy of late, but it does have the nice benefit of giving me rare uninterrupted time to read. Nerd that I am, and conscious of traveling light (but too cheap and disinterested to buy an e-reader), my reading usually consists of reports I find online or have sent to me that I think are useful for me to skim through and be aware of. My interests run the gamut, from environmental sustainability to tax policy to macroeconomics to vacant land management, and so there is never a dearth of qualifying documents to read, just a dearth of time to get to them.

You would think that having large blocks of uninterrupted time to get through lots of these reports (for the record, two two-hour blocks to and from Kentucky, two two-hour blocks to and from Harrisburg, and two six-hour blocks to and from San Diego) would leave me feeling more confident in my knowledge base, for the sake of being more informed as a consultant, citizen, and muser. But you’d be wrong.

The more I learn, the more I realize just how much I have to learn. Far from feeling accomplished, I often leave long reading sessions feeling unaccomplished, for I am now more aware of just how many topics I know little about, and just how much there is to know in each of those topics that I have just brushed the surface of. If I am not careful, the whole exercise can leave me feeling quite insecure; after all, I’m paid to know things. At the very least, it is a sobering realization.

Nevertheless, it’s not a bad place to be. For however humbling it is, it is good to be thusly humbled. For knowledge can puff up. Better to know that there is much I don’t know. You know?

Sermonizing

I’m not sure what it is a reflection of, but consider this: my preparation for the sermon I am to give at our Father’s Day morning service this coming Sunday has taken place in some unusual places:

1) I spent about an hour jotting down some notes on a train home from Harrisburg last month after a speaking engagement.

2) I wrote out the whole thing in about an hour, stream-of-consciousness style, outside a pizza joint in Narberth while Jada was nearby at a birthday party.

3) I spent about an hour editing and tightening the thing up on a plane ride to Kentucky for a final interview for work we are bidding on there.

4) I practiced the thing once or twice in a hotel room in San Diego, where I was giving two presentations at a conference.

I still like public speaking, especially about spiritual matters. But I’m far less polished and comfortable than during my heydays. Too busy, too scatter-brained, no space to marinate on things like I’d like. So I pick my spots, do my best, and pray for God to fix it up. We'll see how Sunday goes.

The Weekend about Nothing

The weekend usually brings a packed schedule of activities for the kids, with a flurry of Twitter feeds to record photos for posterity (and for my mom, following us from the comfort of her home). Especially since I got a subway pass, we've been out and about, making the most of the zero marginal cost travel and the limited leisure hours we have before the rush-rush of the work week.

So it was a strange but welcome change of pace to have absolutely nothing planned for this past weekend, and even stranger to not deviate from the non-plannedness of the weekend. In short, this past weekend, we did nothing.

And it was good. Amy and I took turns arm-twisting the kids into cleaning various parts of the house. Many much-needed long naps were taken. I did crossword puzzles, read a magazine, and zipped through a movie while on the exercise bike. Amy knitted, watched "America's Next Top Model," and cleaned house. And the kids got reacquainted with toys that have sat unplayed with the past few weeks as we've been out and about.

We'll likely not find another weekend between now and Labor Day that has big open spaces, let alone a whole weekend's worth. But it's nice and necessary every once in a while to just do nothing. And this past weekend, it was nothing that we did. And that's something.

Lazy Linking, 48th in an Occasional Series

What I liked lately on the Internets:

48.1. Here's a link to a new blog I am checking out, about land use law and zoning.

48.2. Dissecting which way to set up the toilet paper roll. [Hat tip: Chart Porn.]

48.3. David Brooks is right: commencement messages shouldn't be about selfishly seizing the world out there and squeezing it for all it's worth, it should be about what you can do to make a difference to those around you.

48.4. Megan McArdle argues that Anthony Weiner's Twittering habits actually are fair game for public scrutiny, while Amy Davidson suggests that what is really indicting about this episode is that it shows the Congressman is a poor assessor of risk. [Hat tip: kottke.org.]

48.5. I know there's a blog out there that makes fun of people who think Onion articles are for real, but for real, this Onion article is for real - we really do put our lives in the hands of thousands of complete strangers every day. Try not to think too hard about this.

48.6. Entrepreneur Magazine, which is all about helping entrepreneurs, is now in the business of suing them.

48.7. Governments in beautiful places can get away with offering an inferior tax and service package to their citizens. [Hat tip: Marginal Revolution.]

48.8. Another good thing about biking versus driving is that you get more closely connected with your surroundings, something you can't do when you are locked inside your hermetically sealed, climate controlled two-ton steel box. See also this article - subscription required - about how Gen Y prefers buses and trains over cars and planes because of their desire to be constantly connected to social networks.

48.9. Bees near my home.

48.10. Further signs of American decline - you can now buy Girl Scout cookies and Kool-Aid . . . deep-fried.

Savings Accounts

I knew this before, but the stat is still startling: the savings rate in China is 36 percent, while in the US it is 6 percent (and that’s double the 3 percent rate from 2000 to 2008). On this issue, my own upbringing is not much different from that of many well-educated Asian-Americans. We don’t look to the government as a safety net. We brace ourselves against rainy days and catastrophes. We accept our responsibility to care for our elders in their old age as they cared for us in our young age. We save so that we can invest in the education of our children. So far, so good.

And yet, as a Christian, I cannot help but make sure that my heart is right in all of this. Does such an attitude about saving lead me to look down on others who are different as being less responsible or less intelligent? Does my drive towards self-sufficiency and self-reliance create a prideful shell resistant to seeking help when I need it? Do I ignore the very real needs of those around me in my bull-headed drive towards taking care of my nest egg first? At the end of the day, is my hope for my future well-being placed in my shrewdness in financially planning for it, or is it in a God who promises to provide for me as I seek His kingdom first?

These are hard questions, and I don’t always like the answers I get when I look inward. But, as with many life issues, they are gateways to what we really believe in, and in what or whom we are truly placing our trust. So they are worth asking and answering. For our life savings is literally on the line.

An Open Letter to Congress' Men

I'm due for my semi-annual letter to Congress, and haven't yet found any oomph behind any topics to write about. So I'm doing something a little different this time. Instead of engaging my elected officials on things they are involved in, like deficit reduction or health care or poverty, I write in open letter format to encourage the men among Congress to commit to a higher level of decency when it comes to their views of and actions towards members of the opposite sex.

I speak not from a position of superiority. Earlier this year, I was humbled to be scolded about a conversation I had heartily participated in, in mixed company, that left the sole woman participating in the conversation feeling uncomfortable and humiliated. I am reminded, by these incidents, that I too am guilty of poor attitudes when it comes to women, which are bad for my soul, bring dishonor to women, and contribute to a sexist and demeaning society.

Because of their power, our nationally elected officials may be uniquely tempted in this area. And yet they must commit to being above reproach all the more. For, whether or not they have chosen to be a role model in this particular area, they ought to act like one. And so I say to all of our male Congressional representatives:

A lot has been made lately of "politicians behaving badly." From Ahnold to DSK to Mark Sanford's "hiking the Appalachian Trail" to Anthony Weiner's use of Twitter to flirt with younger women, we have plenty of examples of male politicians acting decidedly unprofessional, and plenty more verbiage from the mainstream and derivative press about why this happens so often.

I don't care to rehash the stories, the explanations, or the yuk-yuks. I simply write to ask that you consider taking extra precaution, and doing some extra soul-searching, to make sure that you don't think or act in an unbecoming way. Whether you are asking for it or not, you are someone with influence, someone people look up to, someone people are carefully watching.

Being good at national policy and having the intestinal fortitude to be able to win an election does not necessarily correlate with being a saint. So you might think my request unfair, that you hold yourself to a high standard. But I remind you that with every misstep, not only do we citizens, of all ages, and particularly the youngest among us, lose faith in our politicians, but we also become more cynical about male-female relationships.

Whatever is left of the decency of treating men and women as equals, of purity in relationships, of beauty that runs deeper than temporary outward appearance, that all dies a little whenever we hear of yet another male politician behaving badly. Conversely, however unsexy and inconsequential it may seem to live a decent, upright life, it does in fact matter. It matters for you and for your ability to lead. And it matters to us who watch you.

What Am I Working On

As has become my custom every three months, here's what I'm working on now at work. I won't repeat anything from last time that I happen to still be working on, and for confidentiality's sake I have to blur some of the details for some of these studies.

* Quantifying the economic and fiscal impact of a major real estate development in a downtown area that has a significant public infrastructure component to it

* Analyzing the effect, at a neighborhood and citywide level, of the introduction of big box retail options, in terms of purchasing power, employment, retail sales, and economic and fiscal impact

* Estimating the positive spillover effect associated with a non-profit housing counseling agency's work in helping reduce the number of foreclosures in a neighborhood

* Determining the extent to which a local community development corporation's physical improvements on a major commercial corridor have caused nearby houses to command a premium in the real estate market

* Calculating the potential increase in sales, jobs, and tax revenues associated with a shopping center expansion

* Using a range of travel and tourism data to construct an index of international tourism to a region

On Father's Day, a Sermon for Fathers by a Father about a Father

If you are in the area for Father's Day (Sunday, June 19), I will be preaching at the 10:30 am morning service at Woodland Presbyterian Church at 42nd and Pine Streets. The title of my sermon will be "The Story of the Loving Father Who Bruised, Condemned, and Abandoned His Perfect Son (And Why This is Good News for Us All)." I will be preaching out of Isaiah 52:13-53:12. People of all faith perspectives are welcome to come check us out.

Love Unconditional

As much as we all love our kids, they sure can press our buttons, can’t they? I can’t speak for others, but one thing my kids do that drives me insane is act in an ungrateful and entitled manner. Here I am, killing myself to do right by them, sublimating all my needs to make sure they are taken care of, and when I get disrespect and whining and apathy in response, that throws me into a rage.

To be sure, it is important for kids to learn that disrespect and whining and apathy are bad things, and to cultivate attitudes of gratitude, contentedness, and grace. But this post isn’t about where my kids are off, it’s about where I’m off. For it doesn’t take a psychoanalyst to figure out that it is my own deficiencies, and not my kids’, that adds the edge to these episodes. Unhealthy is the parent that needs to be filled up by the praise and recognition of his children, for not only are children not often going to fulfill that role, but that need in the first place speaks of a misguided motivation and identity.

I cannot help but think of a Heavenly Father whose abundant love and mercy is far too often met with whining, sass, and outright defiance on my part. How patient He is with me! And, how secure He is in His actions and attitudes, not set off by my ungrateful countenance. Well do we fill up on such a love, that we might love in the same way, free to be spent in love and not require anything in return.

Recommended Reads, Sixth in a Series

Stuff I'd recommend from the past few months:

The Card (O'Keeffe/Thompson). The story of mintiest known version of the famous Honus Wagner tobacco card has it all: celebs, allegations, and big, big money.

The Pittsburgh Cocaine Seven (Skirboll) - I followed baseball in the '80's but did not realize just how prevalent cocaine use was at the time. This was a sad book on so many levels.

Six Good Innings (Kreider) - Thankfully, I went from millionaire coke addicts to pre-teens in Toms River. This was a fun read, and (spoiler alert) it seemed even more innocent that these kids ended up not winning it all.

Batting Stance Guy (Ryness). What baseball fan didn't imitate Rickey Henderson or make fun of Kevin Youkilis? But Batting Stance Guy can do them all, and has turned this skill into a YouTube channel and a book.

Birth of the Modern (Johnson) - An entertaining argument that 1815 to 1830 kicked off the modern era. At over 1,000 pages, that's about a page for every week! But there was a lot to talk about, like America and Britain making peace, huge transportation innovations, and the rise of global finance.

The Soul of Baseball (Posnanski). Buck O’Neill is what’s good about baseball and America. Hanging out with old Buck will make you laugh and cry.

Three Nights in August (Bissinger). Bissinger, the story-teller. LaRussa, the tactician. A three-game series. As you can imagine, this is a quality read.

School Debate

It will come as no surprise, since I live in a staunchly Democratic city and circulate among other well-educated parents of young children, that the uproar over proposed public school budget cuts is ringing in my ear. Day and night, on the playground and in the paper, all I have heard is emotionally charged talk about how stupid and wrong-headed it is to cut education. It is assumed, if anyone should care about my opinion, that I am on the same page.

To be sure, I have skin in the game. The end of full-day kindergarten comes as our youngest son is on the doorstep of kindergarten, while the trimming or elimination of special programming for foreign languages, arts, and music will have direct consequence on our oldest daughter’s activities in the years to come.

What has disappointed me about the discussion around school cuts is that it has been so politicized and so shallow. Dems vilify Governor Corbett for taking the ax to education funding, as if it is possible to spend money we don’t have. You can make a good argument that he should’ve raised taxes elsewhere to keep funding levels level, but this is an argument that has not seen nearly as much coverage; after all, why reason when you can smear your opponent for being uncaring instead?

At a local level, the School District has responded in a similarly disingenuous way, by advancing the most popular programming as first on the chopping block, and then wiping their hands of any hard thinking about how to run with less money. “Look at what Governor Corbett has made us do” has replaced “Here’s how we’re going to figure out how to give our constituencies the best value possible within the constraints of our limited funding.” Again, why grow a backbone and take a few on the chin when you can play victim instead and make someone else absorb all the ill will?

It all makes for good political theater and absorbing reading in the paper, for sure. But for those of us who are directly affected, it’s a grave disappointment that finger-pointing is substituting for discussion, and blind requests for more money are substituting for reasoned weighings of priorities amidst scarcer resources. I appreciated this quote from Councilman Bill Green: "Stop the fear-mongering, adopt a responsible budget, and treat your partners at the city and state like adults. Restore things that are proven, like full-day kindergarten and early-childhood education, then come make the case for things that aren't yet proven."

Sadly, there’s been too much fear-mongering and not enough responsibility on this issue, with potentially disastrous consequences for children and for the city. As a Republican, a taxpayer, and a dad, I’m tired of the school budget version of “kick the can”: spending money we don’t have, getting ourselves in a hole, pointing fingers instead of buckling down, and then asking for money from taxpayers because “surely we can bear higher taxes for the children.”

On that note, my colleague alerted me yesterday afternoon to Mayor Nutter's proposal to resurrect discussion of a sugary drink tax to help pay for extra money for the School District. Again, it's better to throw money at a problem, and/or make the other side seem uncaring in the process, than to actually think through the tough choices of doing more with less, right? Sigh.

Leadership Credos I Find Lacking

For what's it worth, here's my take on some common leadership credos, which contain a grain of truth but are often distorted in bad ways:

1. "The ends justify the means." We start with an old classic, from Machiavelli's "The Prince." This gets at the heart of what it means to be a leader. Is it about getting stuff done, no questions asked? Or is there a moral component to it? Since I believe leadership is about character, I think it's less than half a victory to gain something at the loss, however imperceptible, of weightier things, like integrity or quality or honor.

2. "Well-behaved women rarely make history." I actually like this motto a lot. You could substitute a lot of words for "women" in that sentence and it would be just as powerful. But for women, I think it particularly resonates, for far too often we have asked our women to be kept in their place, and bold and brave women who felt called to be more than that have, thankfully, flexed their muscles and made a difference. All of that said, I think it is a perversion of the sentiment of this credo to use it as an excuse to be mean, jerky, and insensitive to what others think when you are in the pursuit of something you think matters. So one must tread carefully here.

3. "I'm an ideas person; I let others sweat the details." On the one hand, it is good to have a combination of big-picture folks and detail-oriented folks. It is also helpful to not dismiss ideas out of hand due to present constraints, for innovation would otherwise be stifled if we didn't think about the impossible. Nevertheless, this statement is often code for "I'm going to be lazy and let others work hard to figure out how to actually make this fly."

4. "I'm going to keep throwing stuff up against the wall until something sticks." Also known as "we need to do something," this is a good sentiment to the extent that it fosters creativity, willingness to fail (and to learn from what went wrong en route to making it right), and progress through incremental prototyping. But, especially in government, this can be a dangerous way to lead. People who seek stability, because they are making decisions based on a certain context, and if that context keeps changing, people eventually decide to sit on the sidelines until the dust settles. And that can be a bad thing for progress.

5. "I didn't ask to be a role model." It is true that people who are gifted in one thing (dribbling a basketball, hitting a high note, designing a social network) do not automatically get imbued with commensurate gifts in political affairs or moral leadership. Nevertheless, the thing about leadership is that it comes with a lot of stuff you don't sign up for but are on the hook to fulfill anyway. And one of those things is being a role model to others who will naturally look to you as the paragon for how to think and act in certain situations. So it is unleaderlike to shirk this grave responsibility just because you didn't seek it out yourself.

6. "L'etat, c'est moi." I take Louis the XIV's famous statement, "I am the State," and apply it to leaders, particularly in the non-profit sector, who become synonymous with their organization and even their entire cause. It is good branding for the cause, the organization, and the leader for that person's first name to be unmistakably associated with each other. It makes for good sound bites, lends clarity and weight to the cause, and facilitates fundraising. But it must be balanced with tremendous humility, an awareness of one's finiteness, and a plan to broaden the organization and the cause beyond one person. Rare is the leader who is able to strike that balance.