My wife and I are visiting a couple we dearly love but only get to see occasionally. The men are in one room; the women in another. I am listening as my friend speaks of some ideas that have been of paramount importance to him in his conduct of pastoral ministry. I find myself marveling at his wisdom and spiritual depth. Suddenly, almost impulsively, I say to him, "Do you think it's possible that God is laying the tracks for you to become a bishop some day? You'd be a great pastor to pastors."
He gasps and calls out to his wife in the other room. "You have to hear what Gordon just said." The women join us, and he asks me to repeat myself, which I do. Now, both friends seem incredulous, and he finally asks. "How could you know that in the past two weeks I have been asked to stand for election to a bishopric? We haven't shared this with anyone."
What follows is a long discussion that assists our two friends in clarifying those issues that are facing them in this potentially life-altering opportunity.
* * *
I am leading a board meeting in which I have the privilege of being the chairman. As one person after another speaks in favor of a motion, I find myself observing one board member who sits in silence. When all the extroverts at the table have exhausted their noisy thinking, I turn to the silent board member and say, "Would I be correct if I said that something bothers you about this discussion?"
She seems embarrassed by my question, but after a pause says, "I wasn't going to say anything. But since you asked, I'll take that as an indication that I should say that I have a strong check in my spirit about this matter despite the fact that I seem to be alone in my opinion."
For the next minutes she makes her point, and when she finishes, one board member after another thanks her for her comments. Some admit that they have been trying to talk themselves into approving something that they now see is a bad decision.
A board of directors is saved from making bad policy.
It is Saturday night, and I am struggling to finish my preparation for a sermon. All the material is on the desk before me, but I find I cannot assemble it into a sensible presentation for the congregation the next morning. Too tired to think cogently any longer, I head for bed breathing a nervous prayer that I might be able to get up early and finish the job. As I drift into sleep, I continue to toss sermon thoughts around in my mind.
Adam and Eve not only lost the ability to look into one another; they lost the art of knowing themselves.
When I awaken at five, I am suddenly aware that, overnight, a fresh way of organizing my sermon has come to me. The sermon is now in a new format, even accompanied by a "closer" of a story that I hadn't thought of the night before but which will perfectly fit the point I was hoping to make.
A congregation is saved from a mediocre sermon.
* * *
All three of these stories speak to something we all know about but probably take for granted: the power of intuition. How do you describe this mysterious part of the human being other than to say there is something deep within us, below the trap door of our conscious minds, that is regularly at work receiving and sending signals, mixing and remixing ideas, and sending up discernments that inform, warn, revise, or energize our course of action.
In his book Blink, Malcolm Gladwell takes on the challenge of describing this intuitive side of life and speaks of "the content and origin of those instantaneous impressions and conclusions that spontaneously arise whenever we meet a new person or confront a complex situation or have to make a decision under conditions of stress."
"What would happen," Gladwell asks, "if we took our instincts seriously?"
I was raised in a world where propositional truth was everything. Feelings, gut reactions, and instincts were considered suspicious and unreliable unless they aligned with "truth."
As I have engaged with men and women who strike me as effective leaders, I have been impressed with the differences they all have in personality and temperament, in vision and style. But there is at least one thing they all have in common, and it is this ability to act confidently, when necessary, off the platform of their intuition.
You watch them in motion, and you become aware that they see things and read people in ways that almost no one else does. At times you think that they are magicians with their ability to know things most of us simply do not know.
There are moments when these people call a halt to the discussion, intervene in the dispute, or paint a word picture that everyone suddenly sees.
And you ask yourself, How did they get there? How did they figure that out? How could they be so sure?
Answer: something deep within provided an insight no one else had.
Something inside jumped ahead of the generally accepted logic and said this is the right direction in which to walk. This is the right person to choose.
Looking back into Scripture for models of this behavior, you realize quickly that no one demonstrates this intuitive side better than Jesus. With some regularity one reads, "He knew their thoughts …," "He knew what was in man …," "Aware of their thoughts, he …"
You watch with reader's eyes as Jesus sizes up people and events and acts in ways totally different from what was expected. He has alarming insight into the hearts of Pharisees. He connects with children when others brushed them off. He knew brokenness and repentance when he saw it. Ultimately those who crucified him did it because they realized he knew too much, and that knowledge was threatening to them.
Teaching a Rock to intuit
Among the friends of the Lord, no one seems to have been more confounded by his intuitive side than Simon Peter. He went almost ballistic over Jesus' counter-intuitive revelation that the Son of Man would be arrested, killed, and entombed. He misjudged the agenda of the meeting on the mountain between Jesus and Heaven's messengers. He overestimated himself in his promise to remain faithful to the Lord under all possible circumstances. Result? Peter always seemed out of alignment with the Lord's purposes and intentions. He saw things on the surface while Jesus was looking beneath and around things.
If Jesus is the consummate intuitive, Peter is the premier example of someone who doesn't seem to have an insightful bone in his body. We see these people all the time. They always seem out of synch, six degrees off center.
But watch Simon Peter in the book of Acts. Something has changed.
Peter is the first to sense the need for a spokesperson on Pentecost. He is the one who picks up on the duplicities of Ananias and Sapphira. He is the one who sees right through the motives of Simon the magician who thinks that apostolic power might be for sale. And he is the first to "get it" when, on the rooftop in Joppa, God reveals that the time has come for the church to reach out to Gentiles.
What's the significant difference between the Peter of the Gospels and the Peter of Acts? It is this newly forming ability to see intuitively, to recognize the next best thing(s) to be done, and to see beyond a particular incident and understand its future implications.
There are other biblical characters like this. I think Isaiah is the most intuitive of the prophets, able to connect the dots of present events and visualize where they are leading and what the consequences will be. He is the one who recognizes the fresh message at the core of God's redemptive efforts, and it is his words that, centuries later, provide the base for the sermons of John the Baptizer, Jesus himself, and the apostle Paul.
We see James exercising an intuitive kind of leadership as he listens to the debate between those who subscribed to a Judaic view of the gospel and those—like Paul and Barnabas—who said not to burden the Gentiles with old traditions.
When everyone had argued their cases, James stepped in and offered something of a compromise, but it fit the sitution and brought disparate people together.
My nomination for the most unintuitive "leader" in the Bible? Rehoboam, son of Solomon. When asked to lighten up on the demands made upon the people of Israel, he consulted with the older leaders and then the young. When decision time came, he misread the situation and chose poorly. His bad decision led to a split kingdom and political instability in that geographical region that lasted for centuries—some would say even until now.
Two words that well represent the intuitive vocabulary are insight and discernment, referring to the ability to look inward into something. Sometimes they are seen as spiritual gifts.
I have often wondered if we are not introduced to them in the second chapter of Genesis, where the first man and woman "were naked and unashamed." I hear the writer suggesting that the two people saw into one another—perhaps to the very core of each other's souls. You and I cannot do this. And the first two seem to have lost their ability to do it in the course of the story that is reported in Genesis 3. With sin came a loss of most of that inward visionary capacity. They not only lost the capability to look into one another; they lost the art of knowing themselves very well. Later the Psalmist would pray, "Search me, O God, and know my heart …" The writer is asking God to do what he was wired to do but—because of evil—could no longer do for himself.
Once we begin wondering what is going on in another person's life (beneath their skin, so to speak), we are left to educated guesses. We strive to read body language, facial expressions, tones of voice, choices of words. But all of these simply add to the mystery when we ask, What is this person feeling, what is their intention, how trustworthy are they, really?
We have all tried to "read" people and realized that our batting average is modest at best. Hiring decisions, for example, are among a leader's biggest challenges. I have tried to size some people up and invite them to work with me over the years. At times I've experienced great satisfaction in my choices; other times I've been terribly disappointed. I thought I'd discerned their heart and could predict how well we would work together. But at times my assessment missed by a mile, resulting in untold hours spent cleaning up the consequences of the bad choice.
Could I ever count the times I have left a meeting with my wife, Gail, who has said to me, "Didn't you hear what he was really saying?" or "Didn't you pick up the group's resistance when you suggested …?"
In my younger days, I was often tempted to resist her judgments. But time and again, I discovered that she had discerned things that I'd not seen. Rather than resist her counsel, I determined to take advantage of it. So to this very day, I will often go to her and ask, "What are you hearing? What do you think is going on here?" And it has not been unusual to hear her offer some perspective that I would never have gained by myself. How many times Gail made me look good with her intuitive abilities.
Putting instincts to the test
The ability to deal intuitively is tested at several different points in a leader's life. The ability to size up people as potential staff or team-players comes to mind first. I have heard that a good discerner of persons probably makes up his mind in the first 30-45 seconds of a conversation. If true, that's the intuitive at work. They just know that this person is the right one.
You can write the perfect job description, consult all the references, use a battery of tests, but none of this will overcome the importance of that mysterious first impression when you meet the candidate face to face and sense the response of the inner person. It's not failsafe, but it ought not be ignored.
Leading a group meeting requires strong intuitive abilities. Insightful people are listening to the give and take of conversation and sensing sincerity, passion, anger, fear, and a host of other hidden (or not so hidden) ingredients. Intuitive leaders are often three or four moves down the chessboard of conversation seeing where the logic of the discussion is leading. They know when (and probably how) to neutralize bad thinking and encourage the good stuff.
You're talking about the intuitive dimension when you describe pastoral leaders who can stand before a crowd of people and decode the collective mood or receptivity. Such leaders discern how to best speak to such people (tender or tough), to pray for them, to calm their fears, or excite their expectations. Ask how it's done, and they can't describe it to you; they just know.
I am pretty sure that all leaders do not share an equal measure of intuitive ability. There are several variables. It would appear that some of us have a native temperament that is much more prone to look into things to find meaning and motivation and clarity. I think there are those who probably master the intuitive because they have suffered somewhere in life and their suffering has made them acutely aware of certain levels of reality that others miss. I have often thought that people who represent a minority or oppressed culture are usually much more intuitive than their majority counterparts.
This may be why women, admittedly a large generalization, tend to be more intuitive than men. Throughout history they have had to be far more sensitive to danger, exploitation, and power than men have had to be. So they have acquired an ability to see things that are often hidden to most men. It is a very practical reason why I have long advocated that women share leadership with men in the congregation. They bring an understanding of the gospel and of people that the majority of men will simply never get.
A totally male-led church is, to me anyway, an amazing breakdown in logic and, well, insight.
Could I illustrate my opinion by recalling the night in Bethany when Mary anointed the feet of Jesus in anticipation of his coming suffering? She was the only person in the room with the sensitivity to know that Jesus was "hurting" terribly. And she alone connected with his feelings and treated him appropriately. The twelve guys in the room didn't have a clue.
Developing your intuition
Years ago I came to see that I needed to develop the intuitive in me. To the extent that I accomplished this, it came in this fashion.
First, I asked Gail to teach me what she could about sensitivity and insight. I invited her to give me lessons in seeing and hearing the invisible and the silent. Once she knew I wanted to learn, she gave me an education. She would point out a couple who were sitting together in such a way that they would need to touch one another. She would suggest that I note the expression on a wife's face as her husband talked and see if I spotted the disgust or the admiration that was there. Gail taught me about a whole world of sensitivity I'd not known existed.
Second, I tried to identify the most intuitive people in whatever group I was part of. At every opportunity—coffee breaks, lunches, etc.—I'd ask them questions: What are you seeing? Hearing? Sensing? Where do you sense things are going in this discussion? I learned a lot with those questions.
Third, I began to discipline myself to stop talking so much and start listening (not easy for a natural talker). I wanted to see if I could figure out how people were feeling. What were their attitudes, their motives, their hopes and dreams? How did they signal disappointment or joy?
Fourth, I have tried hard to monitor my own "gut" reactions in the course of the day. Rather than ignore or even extinguish my emotions and those inner acts of the Spirit, I've tried to understand what they might be saying. It is not that they are always accurate, but I am surprised at how many times they alert me to the pathway of truth.
In younger years, I tended to be distrustful of my instincts. It was probably because I grew up in a family of very strong adults who often seemed to override my feelings and intuitions with their strong appeal to logic and basic adult authority. Again and again I would look back and realize that my sensitivities had been reasonably accurate, but I had given ground or caved in to the louder, more powerful opinions of those seemingly more knowledgeable. There came a day when I simply stopped doing that and put greater trust in my own ability to intuit what was really going on.
Finally, would it surprise you if I simply said that I have learned to pray for intuitive capabilities? This entire subject is probably the domain of the Holy Spirit, who alerts and energizes our inner person to possibilities and dangers.
Perhaps it was the Holy Spirit who organized the faculties of my mind when that sermon needed to be rebuilt. Maybe it was the Holy Spirit who was at work when I became aware of a troubled board member. And was it possibly the Spirit at work when the notion of a friend becoming a bishop hit me and caused me to say something?
I'm mindful of Elisha, the prophet who had a rather unintuitive servant who needed to see things that weren't necessarily visible. His prayer: "O Lord, open his eyes so that he may see." That's the prayer of a would-be intuitive.
Connecting dots
I invite a man to lunch. After our food has been ordered, we are not many minutes into our conversation when I note the lack of continuity in our choice of topics. We are going from one thing to another, and no central theme marks our talk. I note that he cannot meet my gaze for more than an instant, and then he looks away. His way of sitting suggests a defensive posture, and his hands are unnaturally busy—clasping and unclasping. Why this state of agitation? Why does he seem so uncomfortable? And why do I get this feeling that he wants to be with me but also to be anywhere else?
After the waiter brings our order and I am sure we will not be interrupted for a while, I say, "I have a question for you." When he asks what it is, I say, "I could be wrong, and I'll drop the subject if you tell me I'm wrong, but I have this crazy sixth sense that you're in trouble. Any possibility I'm right?"
He looks at me and then lowers his head until his nose is, perhaps, three inches above the soup in front of him. He remains that way, saying nothing, for—it seems—several minutes. In an earlier time, I would have been tempted to break the tension and say something like, "Okay, how about them Red Sox?" But now I'm convinced enough of my intuition that I wait.
Finally, I say, "I don't want to be boorish, but I'm prepared to cancel my entire afternoon of commitments so I can sit here and wait for you to answer my question."
At last he looks up, his face filled with anguish. "If I tell you what's going on, you'll probably get up and walk out of here."
"No way I'd do that to you. My friends never, ever, walked out on my worst story."
And he begins to outline a deeply disturbing episode in his life that is going to need a lot of help. An episode I would never have heard about if I hadn't learned to listen to my intuitive side.
Gordon MacDonald is editor at large of Leadership and lives in New Hampshire.
Copyright © 2008 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal.Click here for reprint information on Leadership Journal.
