Excellence

Research reveals that Gen Z employees aren't fooled by the "compliment sandwich" approach to feedback. While this technique aims to soften criticism with praise, it can often backfire. Young people are more concerned with whether they're perceived as competent than with receiving positive reinforcement. They crave genuine validation and respect, not patronizing compliments.

The compliment sandwich is meant to create an atmosphere of safety and security. But if the praise is for something seemingly unimportant, it won’t address a young person’s fears of unworthiness. Rather, it may be seen as condescending, which can confirm anxieties about being seen as a rube. Studies show that young people are especially hungry for signs of social status and respect, so they are especially insulted when they sense they are being talked down to.

There is, in fact, a simple but effective solution. Instead of the baloney sandwich, consider "wise feedback." This approach involves delivering honest, constructive criticism with an underlying belief in the individual's potential. By framing feedback as a tool for growth, you can help young people overcome their fears of inadequacy and strive for excellence.

Possible Preaching Angle:

The Apostle Paul is a great example of putting this principle into practice in the church. He was honest about both the strengths and weaknesses of the people he addressed without flattery. His criticism is always motivated by love for people. He always offered hope for the future, encouraging them to change and grow.

If you’re on the operating table, you don’t want your surgeon to say to a nurse, “Hand me one of them sharp thingamajigs.” You want him to have a specific name for a specific tool to perform a specific job.

Words matter. The medical field has distinctive terminology by which it carefully defines diseases, medicines, instruments, and the like. When it comes to our bodies, we have very high expectations of our doctors. They better know what they’re talking about.

We should expect no less—indeed, far more—when it comes to pastors, priests, and teachers of the Word of God. They handle the word of truth. They minister to body, soul, and mind. They better know what they’re talking about. We don’t want to hear from them, “Now that divine power is doing some religious stuff in you.” Precision in language is necessary. We want God’s Word unapologetically, lovingly, and carefully proclaimed to us.

A bus driver became greatly irritated whenever he parked his bus at the parking spot at the midpoint of his route. The reason for this was the open field which was being turned into an unofficial litter dump. Since he had a seven-minute break between his trips, he decided to do something about the situation.

Taking advantage of his breaks through the day, the driver used the time to clear up the litter stage by stage into garbage bags. After some time, all the litter had been successfully cleared. Not stopping at that, he began to plant flower seeds on the land and soon turned it into a picturesque meadow. Learning of his creative efforts, many passengers would thereafter ride the extra distance with him to the parking lot, just to see the beautiful work he had done.

Possible Preaching Angle:

Would you be willing to do something beautiful today to make the world a better place to live in? An unknown author said, “Every job is a self-portrait of the person who does it. Autograph your work with excellence.” The Bible further says, “For we are God's handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do” (Eph. 2:10).

Some people make their craft look easy, but there are often years of discipline and practice behind their craft. Consider the comedian Jerry Seinfeld. If he makes people laugh it's because every word is chosen carefully and the timing of his delivery has been honed and practiced with rigorous discipline. In an interview with the Wall Street Journal, Seinfeld talks about the thousands and thousands of pages of notes he has taken on his jokes:

I don't want people to know how much work I put into it. I just think it's more fun when it seems off the cuff. You want things that are just fun to say. It's fun to say Cocoa Crisp and Fruity Pebbles. It's not fun to say Oat Bran. Pops has a consonant strength that Froot Loops does not have. Frosted Flakes? Soft. Sugar Pops is on the end and not by coincidence. I plan that out.

The editing process takes time, focus, and diligence. Seinfeld added, "You're always trying to trim everything down to absolute rock, solid rock. I will sit there for 15 minutes to make it one syllable shorter."

In his book Deep Work, author Cal Newport provides an example of excellence—a blacksmith from Wisconsin named Ric Furrer. Furrer specializes in ancient and medieval metalworking practices, which he painstakingly re-creates in his shop, Door County Forgeworks. A PBS documentary shows Furrer trying to re-create a Viking-era sword. He begins by using a fifteen-hundred-year-old technique to smelt crucible steel. The result is an ingot, which must then be shaped and polished into a long and elegant sword blade. "This part, the initial breakdown, is terrible," Furrer says as he methodically heats the ingot, hits it with a hammer, turns it, hits it, then puts it back in the flames to start over. It takes eight hours of this hammering to complete the shaping.

It's clear that he's not drearily whacking at the metal like a miner with a pickaxe: Every hit, though forceful, is carefully controlled. He peers intently at the metal, turning it just so for each impact. "You have to be very gentle with it or you will crack it," he explains. "You have to nudge it; slowly it breaks down; then you start to enjoy it." At one point, he lifts the sword, red with heat, as he strides swiftly toward a pipe filled with oil and plunges in the blade to cool it. After a moment of relief that the blade did not crack into pieces—a common occurrence at this step—Furrer pulls it from the oil. Furrer holds the burning sword up above his head with a single powerful arm and stares at it a moment before blowing out the fire. He says, "To do it right, it is the most complicated thing I know how to make. And it's that challenge that drives me. I don't need a sword. But I have to make them."

Possible Preaching Angles: (1) Excellence; Commitment; Work; Labor—doing our work as unto the Lord. (2) Sanctification; Spiritual Growth; Spiritual disciplines—putting time and effort into our spiritual growth, which is never a short and easy process.

For her role in Black Swan, Natalie Portman trained with New York City Ballet dancer Mary Helen Bowers for eight hours a day, six days a week for the 12 months before the film started shooting.

For his role in My Left Foot, Daniel Day-Lewis interacted with disabled patients at the Sanymount School Clinic in Dublin, Ireland. Between takes during filming, he remained in his wheelchair and was spoon-fed and carried around by the crew.

For his role in The Revenant, Leonardo DiCaprio plunged in and out of icy rivers, ate raw buffalo meat, and slept in a simulated horse carcass.

For his role in the film Fury, Shia LeBeouf trained with the U.S. National Guard and was a chaplain's assistant in the 41st Infantry. During the filming, he didn't bathe for 4 months.

To better imitate Ray Charles, Jamie Foxx wore prosthetic eyelids, leaving him blind for most of each day. Occasionally, he was inadvertently left alone on a set, the crew forgetting he was blind. He also learned all the piano parts and lost 30 pounds in one week for the role.

For her role as Fantine in Les Misérables, Anne Hathaway shaved her head, lost 25 pounds and subsisted on a daily diet of two thin squares of dried oatmeal paste.

To play a drug addict in Jungle Fever, Halle Berry visited a real crack den and got to know the addicts. During filming, she abstained from bathing for ten days.

In his role for The Pianist, Adrien Brody familiarized himself with despair and hunger. He moved to Europe, bringing only two suitcases of personal belongings and living a meager lifestyle. He lost 30 pounds and took piano and dialect lessons. Brody said: "There is an emptiness that comes with really starving that I hadn't experienced. I couldn't have acted that without knowing it. I've experienced loss, I've experienced sadness in my life, but I didn't know the desperation that comes with hunger."

The clothing manufacturer Patagonia employs forty-five full-time technicians who complete about 30,000 repairs per year. In the spring of 2015, the company set off on a coast-to-coast road trip across the U.S. in a biodiesel truck to repair their customers' "tired and well-loved" clothing. Patagonia cares about fixing a jacket that has travelled the world with a customer because that act aligns with their company values, and just as important, it helps to deepen the bond between customer and company.

Often the people who send garments in for repair also send their stories about how that piece of clothing has been with them through thick and thin. The customers' stories fuel Patagonia's story and have done so for over four successful decades. The team at Patagonia believe that "one of the most responsible things we can do as a company is to make high-quality stuff that lasts for years and can be repaired, so you don't have to buy more of it." They innovate for and market to those customers who believe what they believe. The customer is their compass."

Editor’s Note: As of 2025, the company continues to offer clothing repairs on its website Wornwear.patagonia.com where they state “If it’s broke, fix it. Doing our part means making the most durable gear. Keeping it in use for as long as possible is where you come in.”

Possible Preaching Angles: (1) Outreach; Missions—Even more so, the church should be committed to excellence in the way we love, welcome, and serve visitors and those who don't know Christ. (2) Work; Employee—Even more so should a Christian employee be committed to excellence. (3) Restoration – God continues to be in the business of restoring lives that are broken by sin and mistakes.

In 1815, Germany's General Music Journal published a letter in which allegedly Mozart described his creative process:

When I am, as it were, completely myself, entirely alone, and of good cheer; say traveling in a carriage, or walking after a good meal … it is on such occasions that my ideas flow best and most abundantly. All this fires my soul, and provided I am not disturbed, my subject enlarges itself … and the whole, though it be long, stands almost finished and complete in my mind, so that I can survey it, like a fine picture or a beautiful statue, at a glance. Nor do I hear in my imagination the parts successively, but I hear them, as it were, all at once. When I proceed to write down my ideas the committing to paper is done quickly enough, for everything is, as I said before, already finished …

In other words, Mozart's greatest works came to him complete when he was alone and in a good mood. He needed no tools to compose them. Once he had finished imagining his masterpieces, all he had to do was write them down.

Numerous authors have used this letter to explain the process of creativity. But there is a problem. Mozart did not write this letter. It is a forgery. Mozart's real letters reveal his true creative process. He was exceptionally talented, but he did not write by magic. He sketched his compositions, revised them, and sometimes got stuck. He would set work aside and return to it later. He considered theory and craft while writing, and he thought a lot about rhythm, melody, and harmony. Even though his talent and a lifetime of practice made him fast and fluent, his work was exactly that: work.

Possible Preaching Angles: So many areas of our lives—relationships, friendships, marriage, and spiritual growth, to name a few—do not improve by some magical process. Growth and depth require discipline and effort.

Dr. John Stott's last bit of advice to his assistant before he died in 2011 was simply this: "Do the hard thing." Stott believed that choosing the easy trail, the road most taken, and the path of least resistance can only end in mediocrity—even if it comes with praise.

An article in The Wall Street Journal points to research that proves what many workers already know: employees fake a positive outlook when the boss is around, and all that fakery can be exhausting. The research, reported first in the Journal of Occupational and Organizational Psychology, concluded that workers tended to put on smiles and fake happiness when higher-ups were in the room. By contrast, when workers hold meetings with peers or with lower-status employees, they tend to express themselves more honestly.

In one experiment, researchers selected nearly 150 full-time employees who regularly attended workplace meetings. The participants filled out surveys about meetings they recently attended. After the researchers collected the data, it was obvious that when superiors were in the room the participants reported that they tended to hide their authentic feelings during the meetings.

The Wall Street Journal article went to say, "All this faking can be exhausting: those who feigned positive feelings actually felt less satisfied when a meeting ended, researchers found. [As one of the researchers said], 'Even if they act positive, those underlying negative feelings are still there. They feel inauthentic, which could result in lower satisfaction, or, eventually, burnout.'"

Possible Preaching Angles: Yes, this research may seem like common sense, but it still shows our need to work for the Lord without impressing others as we live before "an audience of one."

A team of researchers from the University of Michigan and Yale studied how people in unglamorous jobs coped with their often devalued work. When the researchers tried to think of supposedly unrewarding jobs to study, they chose hospital janitors. But what they learned from their studies took them completely by surprise.

When the researchers interviewed the cleaning staff of a major hospital in the Midwest, they discovered that a certain subset of housekeepers didn't see themselves as part of the janitorial staff at all. They saw themselves as part of the professional staff, as part of the healing team. And that changed everything. These people would get to know the patients and their families and would offer support in small but important ways: a box of Kleenex here, a glass of water there, or a word of encouragement. One housekeeper reported rearranging pictures on the walls of comatose patients, with the hope that a change of scenery might have some positive effect.

The researchers coined a term for what these special housekeepers brought to their job—job crafting. Job crafting means that people take their existing job expectations—or job descriptions—and expand them to suit their desire to make a difference. Job crafters are those who do what's expected (because it's required) and then find a way to add something new to their work. Something that delights. Something that benefits both the giver and the receiver. One of the lead researchers put it this way: "People who job-craft don't just reshape their jobs to make life better for themselves, but to serve others in some beneficial way."

When we hear the word "legacy," many of us think of it a bit like an inheritance: a possession of sorts, to be handed down to generations to come. But legacy is most powerful when we consider it as something truly larger than ourselves, as a chain in which we are only a single link. A beautiful visual image of this comes from Ohio farm country, which boasts over 65 farms that are over 200 years old.

While in many parts of the world a couple centuries is just a drop in the bucket, it's more than enough time for families working the land to have a rich sense of legacy, responsibility, and a sense of being something bigger than their own profit or immediate gain. One of the owners of an Ohio bicentennial farm was proud to declare, "We don't use any antibiotics or hormones, so we make it as healthy as possible … It gives you a sense of pride when a customer comes back to you and says, 'That was the best ground beef I ever had.'"

Possible Preaching Angle:

In our culture—so consumed by the new and the now—how can we retain a sense of deep legacy? Maybe we can learn something from some old farmland in Ohio … and apply it to passing on the ancient teachings and traditions of our faith, so much bigger than any one of us.

As a winter storm rolled over Birmingham, Alabama on January 28th 2014, Dr. Zenko Hrynkiw heard that a patient at Trinity Medical Center had taken a turn for the worse. The patient needed surgery, no other surgeon was available, and the patient had a 90 percent chance of dying. Driving wasn't an option because of the snow and ice. Emergency personnel were busy.

So the 62-year-old doctor faced these brute facts and proceeded to take action. He put a coat over his hospital scrubs and started walking six miles in the snow from Brookwood Medical Center to Trinity Medical Center. Along the way, he fell and rolled down a hill, but he got back up. He helped some drivers who were stuck in the snow. He finally arrived at Trinity, performed the surgery, and probably saved a patient's life.

In a later press conference that praised his efforts, Dr. Zenko Hrynkiw wondered what all the fuss was about. He said, "It really wasn't that big of a deal." Any good doctor would have done the same thing, Hrynkiw said. The patient was dying and, he said, "that wasn't going to happen on my shift."

But a hospital official said the doctor was being modest. Keith Granger, Trinity Medical Center's CEO, said, "It was not just a walk in the park. Given the conditions, the temperatures and the terrain, it's a remarkable physical feat and mental feat. And we have an individual alive today who wouldn't be here if not for his efforts."

Possible Preaching Angles: (1) Dedication; Commitment; Discipleship; Worship—If only followers of Jesus had this level of commitment to follow Christ, worship Christ, and make him known to others; (2) Faith and Works—This reflects the zeal for good works that should be seen in those who know Christ.

J.R.R. Tolkien, author of The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings, did not initially set out to write fantasy novels and create an entire world that he called "Middle Earth." He first ventured into his brilliant writing career when he read the phrase "Middle Earth" in an Old English manuscript and it inspired a poem. That was in 1914 and he was only 22. Three years later in 1917, he wrote "The Fall of Gondolin," which was the first story of his fantasy works.

Then, 13 years later (1930), he began telling his children a bedtime story about a strange and funny creature called a hobbit. Seven years later his book titled The Hobbit was published. The publisher immediately asked Tolkien for a sequel, and 12 years later in 1949 he completed the Lord of the Rings trilogy. The trilogy was published five years later (1954). In other words, from the time he first saw the phrase "Middle Earth," to the time his masterpiece about Middle Earth was published, it took Tolkien 40 years of creative effort.

Possible Preaching Angles: (1) Sanctification; Spiritual Growth; Maturity—It takes lots of time to grow into Christian maturity; (2) Work; vocation—It also takes a long time to excel at a craft or a career.

On February 24, 1989, United Airlines Flight 811 took off from Honolulu on its way to New Zealand. The 747 had climbed to twenty-two thousand feet when the forward cargo door of the jet blew open, tearing a huge hole in the side of the plane. Nine passengers were immediately sucked out of the plane to their deaths. The two right engines were damaged by flying debris and taken out of commission. The plane was one hundred miles from land. The captain, David Cronin, brought all of his wisdom and thirty-eight years of piloting experience to bear.

His stickiest problem was deciding how fast to fly …. Because the hole had changed the aero-dynamics of the huge craft, the usual data regarding stall speed was no longer relevant. The pilot [knowing this] had to use his best judgment. Furthermore, since the plane had just taken on 300,000 pounds of fuel for the long flight, it was too heavy to land without collapsing the landing gear …. Then he encountered a new problem. The wing flaps used to slow down the plane were not working properly …. He would have to land the plane at 195 miles per hour, compared to the normal speed of 170 miles per hour. The jet weighed 610,000 pounds, well above Boeing's recommended maximum stress load of 564,000 pounds. Nevertheless, Captain Cronin made one of the smoothest landings the rest of the crew could remember, amid the cheers of the passengers. Airline experts called the landing miraculous …. A few days later an interviewer asked Captain Cronin about his first thoughts following the loss of the cargo door. He said, "I said a prayer for my passengers momentarily and then got back to business."

When United Airlines Flight 811 got into trouble, the greatest gift Captain Cronin had for his passengers was his experience and good judgment …. The critical issue was this: was he competent enough as a pilot to bring that badly damaged plane in safely?

Possible Preaching Ideas: Tim Keller adds, "One of the main ways that you love others in your work is through the 'ministry of competence' … or serving God by doing your job as well as it can be done."

Why do some musicians or athletes excel while others remain mediocre? In his book The Social Animal, David Brooks points to current research that reveals the common denominator in attaining excellence in a field: a long-term commitment to discipline and practice. Brooks writes:

In 1997 Gary McPherson studied 157 randomly selected children as they picked out and learned a musical instrument. Some went on to become fine musicians and some faltered. McPherson searched for the traits that separated those who progressed from those who did not. IQ was not a good predictor. Neither were aural sensitivity, math skills, income, or a sense of rhythm. The best single predictor was a question McPherson asked the students before they even selected their instruments: How long do you think you will play? The students who planned to play for a short time did not become very proficient. The students who planned to play for a few years had modest success. But there were some children who said, in effect: "I want to be a musician. I'm going to play my whole life." Those children soared.

Growing Christians approach discipleship with a similar attitude: "I want to follow Jesus (or love others, or study God's Word, or build up the church). I'm going to follow Jesus my whole life." Those Christians may stumble often, but over the long haul they will also soar.

Editor's Note: The beautiful short film behind this illustration focuses on one of the last remaining Japanese swordsmiths. The text below comes from Korehira Watanabe, the swordsmith who has spent 40 years honing his craft in an attempt to recreate an ancient kind of sword. We have transcribed the video for this illustration, but we encourage you to watch the video. Special thanks to filmmaker Takeshi Fukunaga for permission to use this film on PreachingToday.com.

Today, there are only 30 people, including me, who are making a living as a sword maker. When I was younger, I was making swords just because I loved it, but as I got older I started to think that I need to pass along the aesthetics and soul of the Japanese people through my swords.

When I was in college, I saw a picture in a magazine of the legendary sword maker Akihira Miyairi, who later became my master. That was when I discovered that there will still be people who make traditional swords and when I decided to be a sword maker. All of my family members opposed the idea because they didn't think I could make a living. They told me, "Don't ever come back home if you want to be a sword maker."

There are basically no directions or formulas left to make Koto [traditional swords] from the Heian and Kamakura periods (794-1333 A.D.). It's impossible to recreate the sword. However, that's the kind that attracts me, and while I've been trying to recreate for 40 years, it's only in the past five years that I've succeeded in making a few similar to Koto.

Many traditional craftsmen respond to modern times when handing down their craft. But the essence of the tradition suffers in doing so. I think it is meaningless to carry on tradition that way.

I want my disciple to pass me as a sword maker. It is my duty to build up a disciple better than me. Otherwise the tradition will wear thin with time. What I received from my master is not only the technique, but also his passion for sword making. I want my disciple to receive my passion, and I believe he will pass down his own passion for sword making to the next generations.

T. David Gordon, in his book, "Vocation: Work Quietly with Your Hands," writes:

Perceiving [all] of our labor as a vocation can have a substantial impact on how we go about [any job]. I worked as greenskeeper at a golf course in the summer when I was in school. I knew I had no intention to mow greens and fairways for my "career." But for the nine summers I was a greenskeeper, I regarded it as my calling [from God] for the time. I was ordinarily one of the first to arrive and the last to leave; I routinely volunteered for the most unpleasant or demanding work; and I could run any piece of equipment in the shop, which made me a "utility infielder" for my [bosses].

In my judgment, there is far too much Christian conversation about "finding" our calling, and too little about "pursuing" the one we have.

According to theologian Steven R. Guthrie, John Coltrane is one of a handful of musicians (including other greats like Louis Armstrong, Charlie Parker, and Miles Davis) who defined jazz music. But Coltrane's musical creativity and excellence didn't just happen; he became an outstanding musician only by submitting himself to a long process of practice and apprenticeship. In Guthrie's words:

From the time he was a young teenager Coltrane maintained an intense practice regime, playing for hours each day and, when neighbors complained, silently fingering the keys of his saxophone late into the night. His first wife, Naima, referred to Coltrane as "ninety-percent saxophone" …. Coltrane took classes at various music institutes and conservatories and pored over practice books such as Slominsky's Thesaurus of Scales and Patterns.

Guthrie also notes that, although Coltrane was one of the most original voices in jazz,

For decades [he] dedicated himself to learning and internalizing the styles of older and established jazz musicians. For nine years, from 1946 to 1955, Coltrane was "an anonymous journeyman," working as a supporting musician in the bands of more established musicians. An older generation of sax players [such as Thelonious Monk] served as instructors. In an interview Coltrane described how his time in Monk's band became an opportunity for one-on-one tutorials:

"I'd get my horn and start trying to find what he was playing … he'd tend to play it over and over and over … he would stop and show me some parts that were pretty difficult, and if I had a lot of trouble, well, he'd get out his portfolio and show me the music … when I almost had the tune down, then he would leave me to practice it."

Steven Guthrie comments:

Coltrane developed his voice by surrendering to another. Before he could speak on his own, he first gave himself to repeating again and again the things Monk had said …. The paradox of artistry is that the loss of self is the prerequisite for self-expression. And, conversely, the object of mastering another's voice is finding one's own.