Leadership Journal

This past Summer I spent time reading several Quaker writers. I started with the biography of George Fox (the founder of the movement back in the 17th century) and then moved on to some of the works of Isaac Pennington, Robert Barclay, John Woolman (an American hero), Rufus Jones, Douglas Steere, and Elton Trueblood.

Good people. We should all know them better. I think they have a word for many of us. They certainly did for me.

Looking back on these writers, some of the descriptors that come to me are centeredness, self-regulation, dignity, intellectual acuity, generosity, and humility.

Somewhere in my summer readings I came across a comment made by Marius Grout, a 20th century French Quaker who said,

"I believe in the influence of silent and radiant men and I say to myself that such men are rare. They, nevertheless, give savor to the world …. Nothing will be lost here so long as such men continue to exist."

I am captured by this thought. Silent and radiant … giving savor to the world. Typical Quaker-speak, I'd say.

Savor, a word used sparingly, means taste or flavoring, maybe even sweetening. It speaks of something which, while not used in large quantity, greatly influences things. Thus, rephrasing Grout's line, a few silent and radiant (persons) properly placed, make a huge difference.

We evangelicals are hardly known for our silence. Our branding implies proclaiming, declaring, even persuading. But it opens up the possibility that we can very easily be a rather noisy people even when we don't have much to say. Words without substance and authenticity equal irrelevance.

The value of looking beyond one's own immediate tradition (in this case to the Quakers) is that see qualities and perspectives that you wish you could import into your own experience. In this case the qualities of silence and radiance attract me.

I only know a few Quakers: some personally, others through my reading. But I have always admired, even envied, the depth of soul I have found in them. I'm sure they have many imperfections, but I'm not inclined to search for them.

Traditionally, Quakers hate war and love peace-making. They encourage rational thinking and cast a suspicious eye on excessive feelings. They practice community and accountability and frown on flamboyant individual initiative. They believe that God dwells deeply in the human heart and speaks up into one's life. They are reluctant to buy into the notion of total depravity. They have an extremely high view of Jesus Christ.

Here's Rufus Jones—one of Quakerism's best:

"Let a person's inner being be fortified with a faith in God and all his creative powers are quickened, his marching strength is heightened and his grip on everyday things is immensely increased. It is as though he had tapped a hidden reservoir of power."

John Woolman, an 18th century American Quaker) whose journal everyone ought to read, once approached the home of a southern Quaker plantation owner where he had been invited to dine and spend the night. He suddenly became aware that there were slaves working in his host's fields.

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