The Value of A Picture

In a previous work life, I directed a small summer camp for kids. The camp counselors were seasonal employees and in a given year it was not unusual for as many as half of them to be new to their role. The week of training we provided as summer began would make or break the quality of the program. In addition to the sessions on policy and procedure we had to cover, I invited experts to speak to us on child-development.

One summer I asked my friend Steve to speak to us about the value of encouraging creativity in kids. His talk was scheduled to occur after dinner. As was often the case with the evening sessions, my wife and two young kids came along. The kids would color quietly while Jess and I listened, and in this way we would have a few minutes together before the kids went to bed.

Steve sat with us on the back row as one of the other leaders shared the evening’s agenda. When his introduction had been made, Steve stood to walk to the front of the room. As he stepped into the aisle, a little arm reached up and offered him a sheet of paper. Steve took the paper and held it in front of him, studying it as he walked.

When he reached the lectern he turned and held the paper up for everyone to see. On it were a few squiggly lines that might have resembled a house, a family, and a guy named Steve. Looking past the faces of sixty college students, he caught the gaze of a four year old girl.

“Rachel Katharine, this is a very good picture!”

The Value of A Picture Redux

This scene came to mind last week after a picnic with my younger daughter. Because it was overcast and breezy out, we spent most of our time sitting in the car. On the way home we stopped by my office to pick up a few things. As she waited for me to pack up, Sophie drew a picture of our car picnic on my whiteboard.

I have to confess, I’ve never really understood how Steve was able to say what he did so earnestly. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been very grateful for his words and I’ve done my best to emulate him. Still, his voice conveyed a sincerity I haven’t been able to reproduce. I realized this week I’ve been confusing a picture’s value with its quality.

Pictures are meant to show us something true about the world. Good pictures show us something beautiful.

In my work I am often discouraged. The job is hard and things rarely go as planned. Now, when I look up from my desk I see a few squiggly lines. They tell me that somewhere in the world is a little girl who would like nothing better than to go eat with her daddy. There is something beautiful in the world that is just for me.

Sophie Jayne, this is a very good picture.

My Picture For You

I am trying to take a lesson from Steve and my girls. Last week I published a small ebook. It is a modest book in both quality and size. My hope is it’s value lies in neither of these.

This little book is meant to be a picture. It is meant to show something true, something beautiful, something just for you.

I would be honored if you would read it and answer the following question:

Is this a good picture?

Few things are better than sharing good food with people you love.

Food is one of the handful of things we must have to sustain our lives. And yet, not all food is the same.  Just because a particular food can be eaten to sustain life does not mean eating the food will be enjoyable.  A grub worm is not a steak.

We spend our days in a struggle not only to sustain life but enjoy it as well.

This is the purpose of business.

Sustaining life takes work. Helping life flourish requires even more.  There are two basic ways to get the work done:

We can help ourselves.  Each of us can focus on our own needs and do all the work necessary to meet those needs. If all of us do this, we’ll have the same kind of work and more or less the same quality of life.  For most of us, though, this would be a pretty low quality life.  Not many people are good at everything.

Or

We can help one another.  Each of us can focus on meeting one type of need and spend our energy learning to do that work well. Some people produce exceptional food, others make really great clothing.

Limiting our efforts to a few types of work allows us to produce far more of our product than we personally need and at a much higher quality than the average person would be able to reproduce. We sell or barter our excess in exchange for goods produced by another. Isn’t this the fundamental idea behind our system of commerce?

Business is not meant merely to sustain life, it is to cause life to flourish.

A book is like a chicken sandwich.

In 1961 the owner of a small diner began tinkering with a recipe for a new chicken sandwich. From those humble origins the Chick-fil-A restaurant chain was born. The world did not need a new type of sandwich. Nevertheless, millions of people have had their lives enriched by the food and service of Chick-fil-A team members over the years. In addition, tens of thousands of lives have been sustained through employment with Chick-fil-A.

None of those outcomes could have been predicted when Truett Cathy was tinkering with his recipe. We can’t truly know the value of a thing until we bring it into the world. No matter what the cook thinks, the diner gets to decide if she likes the dish.

If this website is like a restaurant, then words are the food. For the past several months I’ve been tinkering with a new recipe. Today I’m pleased to introduce my new “chicken sandwich”. I’ve written a short ebook that I think is good, but I won’t really know until you try it and see.

Will you help me bring something new into the world? Will you try my new ebook and let me know if you like it?

Old Houses

I believe in the value of old houses.

I live in an old house, in a town filled with old houses.

Their value is not in a superior ability to repel the weather, resist termites, or retain heat.  (My utility bills and leaky roof prove otherwise!)  An old house is a physical link to the past.  In a way, choosing to live in an old house connects me to those who came before, as well as those who will come after I’ve gone. I am not simply preserving a physical structure, I am continuing the practice of making a life in this place.  Seen this way, an old house takes on a meaning over time that far exceeds its function.

But what happens when a house loses its functionality?  At some point as it dilapidates, the thing ceases to be a house and instead becomes simply an enormous pile of trash (even if managing somehow to hold the shape of its former self).  The economic reality of that state is simple: it’s a lot easier to sell an empty lot than it is to sell a dump.  So out come the bulldozers and away go the remains of the house, carrying with them the meaning it had gained over time.

Solving this problem is the role of the artist.

Art

In our work, most of us are craftsmen.  The craftsman is concerned primarily with utility.  He exercises his craft with care so his creation will serve a useful function.  This is the builder who constructs a weather-proof house.

Critiquing the work of a craftsman is a relatively easy thing.  The creation works, or it doesn’t.  We like it, or we don’t.  We can take or leave the work of the craftsman.

The artist, on the other hand, is concerned primarily with meaning.  She exercises her craft with care so her creation will convey a truth whose meaning transcends function.  This is the photographer who captures an image that strikes a universal cord.

Art is about truth and values and beauty.  It shows us what is good and speaks to what is wrong with the world.  At its best, art tells us something about the very meaning of life.  This makes the artist a sort of prophet.

It is no easy thing to critique the work of a prophet.  Their work is not something we can simply take or leave.  One is expected to breathe an “amen”, or else be willing to cast the first stone.

A Dilemma

I began this blog for a very utilitarian purpose – I wanted, through practice, to learn how to write.  If along the way I proved to be a “thought leader” on some topic, so much the better!  The point was to do stuff that would lead to more work.  At times I might reveal something personal but it was always measured.  It was never my intention to bare all.

A few months after I began posting, I signed up for a book review program with the publisher Thomas Nelson.  I would receive free books in exchange for posting an honest review.

I selected a business book for my first review.  It was a straight-forward, “how-to” type of book.  The assignment was simple – evaluate whether the author effectively communicated his message.  Was the writing clear? Was it effective? Did I find the content helpful? In essence, I reviewed the author’s craftsmanship.

For my second book I chose a memoir by Ian Cron.  A reviewer had compared the book to another I enjoyed.  I thought I might find it useful to my work.  I failed to think through the implications of my agreement.  I had not committed to reviewing the book merely on the basis of my expectations of its usefulness.  I am on the hook to review the book for what it actually is.  It is not sufficient to limit my review to the author’s craftsmanship if in truth he is an artist.  To review the book with honesty, I must voice an opinion of his art.

A Book

Ian Cron’s Jesus, My Father, The CIA, and Me: A Memoir…of Sorts is quite a story.

It is the story of a son longing to know he is loved by his father.  It’s a story about alcoholism and deceit, and the uncertainty of what is real.  It’s about failure and injustice and the pain of discovering you are both victim and perpetrator.  And finally, it’s a story about Jesus and what it means to find yourself in relation to him.

Because stories are full of symbols, it would be easy to misunderstand the presence of Jesus in this story as simply that.  After all, Jesus has been seen over the centuries more as the figure head of a particular religion than as a person.  But that is not how Ian presents him.  In Ian’s memoir Jesus is a character just as real, more real perhaps, than any of the other characters.

What role does Jesus play in the story? This is perhaps the most important question in life.  In providing an answer, Ian’s words become art.

Jesus does not play a supporting role.  He does not come to the aid of a good hero.  He is the hero.  He comes to ransom the guilty.  He comes to the thief, the adulterer, the murderer; and to their cowardly children; the glutton, the masturbater, the gossip.  He comes to purchase the worthless as one who can restore.

One theologian describes it this way.  ”The essence of other religions is advice; Christianity is essentially news.  Other religions say, ‘This is what you have to do in order to connect to God forever; this is how you have to live in order to earn your way to God.’  But [Christianity] says, ‘This is what has been done in history.  This is how Jesus lived and died to earn the way to God for you.’”

With this news we are also given a meal.  Dining with family and friends is a subtle reminder that we belong to one another.  But in this meal Jesus is not subtle.  Seated at a dinner table on the eve of his death, Jesus used bread and wine to tell his friends that his body would be broken and his blood spilled for them.  To participate in this meal is to be assured that the news is truly for us, that Jesus is the hero of our story.  Or as one poet puts it:

“I stand in a line and shuffle forward
Before me a saint
Behind me another coming
We kneel at a table
We strip off our rags
Naked, we wrestle ourselves down
To still and quiet
And take hold of the broken loaf
And water our roots with sanguine wine
I rise and look behind me
A chain of saints stretches unbroken
Back to the beginning
Before me they vanish into the light
Linked by blood and flesh
Undying, eternal, a memorial
Settled ‘til time and memory
No longer have need
Of our withering rites”

In his memoir, Ian Cron takes his place in this line.

My Review

So, in the end, which is it to be; “amen” or the stones?

For me it is as simple as this:

In this story I found myself.  Hungry for bread.  Thirsty for wine.

And to that I say, “Amen, and amen.”

Disclosure of Material Connection: I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze®.com <http://BookSneeze®.com> book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission’s 16 CFR, Part 255 <http://www.access.gpo.gov/nara/cfr/waisidx_03/16cfr255_03.html> : “Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.”

Sarah Clarkson is a freelance writer who spent time studying literature in Oxford. She tells the story of stumbling into a group of village bell-ringers just as they set about their work. On the wall of the tiny room inside their bell tower, hung this prayer:

“Gracious Lord, source of all skill and beauty, who has
entrusted to us the ringing of your bells, give to us the
needful skill and grace for the faithful performing of
our art, that the sound of the bells may awaken in the
hearts of all who hear them the desire to worship you
in spirit and in truth: through Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen”

To be effective in our work, we must relentlessly focus on those few areas where our contribution makes the biggest difference. This consistent contribution of focused work is in essence the practice of a craft. It is through craft we have to ability to produce art.  Therefore the prayer of all of us who labor, should be that of the bell-ringer.

As you exercise your skills at work each day, what is your art?

May you find needful skill and grace for the faithful performance of that art today.

See that?

That thing we just whizzed by was the first mile-marker on this twelve-mile trip.

Don’t snooze, it’s going quickly.

I’ve lost track of the number of things that get measured during the first few years of a kid’s life. In addition to the height and weight stuff, there is a new battery of questions that must be answered at each checkup. “How’s his pincer grip?” “Is he cruising?” “How many words can he say?” “Can he draw a circle?” Having been asked these sort of things so much, it’s embarrassing how quickly we forget the quality of a child’s health extends beyond a single dimension.

Lately our oldest daughter has been conducting experiments to prove the existence of fairies. She’ll leave bits of snacks or tiny beds she makes for them on her bookshelf. She is desperate to believe they’re real so the slightest disturbance in the positioning of the bed or snack is taken as definitive proof that a fairy happened by. Given that our labrador’s scratching is enough to shake everything in our hundred-year-old house, she’s yet to have an experiment end inconclusively.

This is not good.

It’s a cold, hard world out there. If I don’t prepare my daughter for the realities of life, who will? And yet, what could be more tragic than a child who’s lost their sense of wonder? Isn’t the ideal to foster my daughter’s imagination and her ability to interact with the rest of the world?

Child-rearing is not the only situation in which we encounter this dynamic. In his bestseller “Built To Last”, author Jim Collins says the most successful businesses are those that embrace the “genius of the AND”. Rather than view their work as a responsibility to produce a profit or accomplish some other good in the world, the leaders of great businesses believe they can accomplish both profitability and more.

How does one accomplish such a trick? Surprisingly, the answer comes from those dreamers of fairies! It just so happens, what makes for a good story, makes for a good business. The principles of story design provide a framework that will make a business both profitable and meaningful. To learn how to harness the power of story in your business, join me August 23rd for The Work Story Premise.

Why is it we all understand the stereotype of the kid who threatens to take his ball and go home if he doesn’t get to pick the game? It resonates with me because I knew kids like that growing up. And if I’m completely honest with myself, I understand it because a version of that kid still lives inside me. He’s not all bad, he means well. Sometimes he just gets a little carried away.

In the excitement of preparing for next week’s event, my focus has been on squeezing everything I know about the subject matter into one seminar. As I’ve spoken with the people who are interested in attending, many of them simply can’t afford to invest a full day.

What’s a kid to do? On the playground we usually had the most fun when we all helped shape the game.

Instead of presenting the full Work Story Seminar next week, I’m offering what may be even better. The Work Story Premise is a two-hour event that delivers the four central concepts of the seminar in a TED-style, condensed format. The event will take place 10:00 a.m. – 12:00 p.m. Tuesday, August 23rd. Lunch will be provided and a Q&A session will follow for those who can stay. More information is available here.

I hope you’ll come out and play!

Photo Credit: Raúl Hernández González

Yesterday marked the third anniversary of the end of a chapter for me. Three years ago my family loaded a moving van and said goodbye to Mississippi. I also said goodbye to what I had once thought was my dream job and the industry in which I expected to spend my entire career.

That day also marked the beginning of a new chapter. We were starting a new life, in a new house, in a new town, in a new state, with a new job, in a new industry. Like any good story this chapter has had it’s ups and downs. We’ve celebrated the arrival of our fourth child. We’ve enjoyed increased time together as a family. We’ve made friendships that are dear to us. We also struggled with sickness. We mourned the death of a friend. We wrestled with the disappointment of unmet expectations. This chapter has been about transition and transitions can be hard.

Nevertheless, transition continues and with it come new lessons, new insight and new opportunities. The past three years have helped me better understand my strengths and desires. Benefiting from the wisdom of others, my understanding of the principles of business and human relationships has grown significantly. Along the way I’ve had the privilege of applying the things I’m learning. I served on the team of a restaurant whose performance ranked at the top of their national chain last year. I also worked as a consultant to the county’s largest employer, a hospital whose staff work selflessly to bring the healing ministry of Jesus to life through compassionate care and exceptional service.

Now I have the opportunity to share the things I’ve learned. I have developed a seminar titled “Work Story: The Surprising Method To Improving Motivation, Effectiveness and Satisfaction”. This event is meant for people who believe that work can be both meaningful and profitable.

To learn more about the seminar and view upcoming dates, visit stepmorgan.com/workstory.

I’m a sucker for the idea of a silver bullet. I long for a magical solution, the one elusive key to resolving whatever problem I’m currently facing. Sure, sure – I could just dig in and do the slow work of moving things forward bit by bit, but there’s got to be a better way. If I search diligently and never lose heart, eventually I’ll find my miracle. Right?

I’ll admit, it’s been a discouraging journey to this point. For some time I’ve teetered on the brink of despair. But just when my hope was all but gone, my miracle day arrived! With three quick reads my life’s greatest needs were met.

First was the helpful book review from Don Miller that led to Spiritual Insight. Next came Technological Mastery with a post describing the new product the genius engineers at Google put together. And last, but definitely not least, I am confident of my future Business Success utilizing a creative strategy Seth Godin unveiled.

If you appreciate a silver bullet as much as I do, I’m sure April 1st is the best day of your life too. Leave a comment and share the good news you heard today.

Or

If you’re serious about doing work that leads to effectiveness and satisfaction, give me a call and let’s discuss how I can help.

Seriously. It appears you hate your job. You certainly seem loathe to serve us. No doubt someone has given you too many things to do. Stop torturing yourself. Quit. It really is ok. You have permission.

OR

Answer the question. Remind yourself why this job is worth the effort. Find a good reason to endure the pain. Write it down somewhere so it’s easier to remember next time. Because you will forget again. Lots of times. You’re human and life hurts. So write it down. Then do the work. It matters.