Benefits exist from the overwhelming amount of snow dumped on Michigan over the past couple of weeks, but only if you know where to look. The seven-foot mounds on the side of my driveway represent hard labor. Not a pretty sight. The thick blanket that peacefully rests in the woods, however, represents pure pleasure. Especially if you cross-country ski.
My wife and I began cross-country skiing last year, so our skills remain at beginner levels. Our joy level, though, is a different story. Last weekend, we enjoyed our new pastime in near-perfect conditions: sunshine, no wind, and well-groomed trails.
As we glided through the quiet woods, my wife commented about the beauty of the undisturbed forest snow. From just a few yards behind her, I agreed—keeping my voice low to avoid disrupting the ambiance. She remarked about the amazing contrast between the evergreens and the white drifts. She commented about the air’s fresh taste. She stopped to enjoy the warm sun that shone between trees. And before she could say another word, I ran into her.
I don’t know how to stop yet. Or to keep my head up.
Our experience packs in plenty of parallels with ministry leadership that I thought about during the rest of our outing. (I skied in front, for obvious safety reasons.) You will likely read some familiar thoughts.
To start, I know that many times the pace I try to maintain prevents me from truly enjoying the surroundings in which I toil. I’m not talking about the snow. Rather, a job that’s a calling, work that touches hearts and changes lives, surrounded by passionate people.
Fortunately, one aspect of work has always stopped me in my tracks. The kids. In the midst of my busyness in leading ministry efforts, I still melt when I’m around the children. At my previous church assignment, I experienced pure joy from visiting the infant area and holding a baby. Even the times I came away with yack stains on my shirt. Just as I nearly fall over with excitement from hearing kids energetically sing worship songs. Or watch them pray.
In my current role at Kids Hope USA, the highlight of my week happens every Monday from 2:45 to 3:45 p.m. That’s the hour I mentor a second-grade boy. He doesn’t yack on my shirt, sing, or pray, but his laugh erases many leadership issues that tend to over-occupy my mind.
As a leader, do you ever find it hard (or impossible) to stop and enjoy what you do and where you do it?
Another item I contemplated in the woods is how inferior I feel because I don’t yet know how to stop my skis. Other skiers, much more advanced and more decked out in fashionable cold-weather gear than I, seem to almost effortlessly start, stop, and everything between. Too often, I compare my abilities to theirs. So I try harder, go faster, huff and puff. But I don’t measure up. I’m still at a beginner level. Will I ever improve?
Yes, but what I need is more seasons, not more speed. Ask my wife.
Ever look around at other leaders and feel like you should be more like them? I do. So I must constantly remind myself: I am not the best. I am not the worst. I don’t know who is. I am me, and that’s who God made me to be.
Yet, I can learn plenty of good lessons from others. Only if I keep my head up, though. And that requires looking away from the ground. Do you ever look up, or are you too busy?
Finally, I appreciate the priceless gift of traveling with someone who can laugh with me. That’s right, my wife and I laughed about our collision. Unfortunately, some folks approach ministry with pole-like stiffness. Think about the people you work closest with. Do they ever see you laugh? Do they ever see you enjoy life? If not, break the ice and show people that you like to chuckle.
Even when you wipe out. Because you will.
David Staal, senior editor of Today’s Children’s Ministry and a mentor to a second-grade boy, serves as the president of Kids Hope USA, a national non-profit organization that partners local churches with elementary schools to provide mentors for at-risk students. Prior to this assignment, David led Promiseland, the children’s ministry at Willow Creek Community Church in South Barrington, Illinois. David is the author of Words Kids Need to Hear (2008) and lives in Grand Haven, Michigan, with his wife Becky, son Scott, and daughter Erin. Interested in David speaking at your event? Click here)
©2011, David Staal
