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About royeyre

I'm a student of leadership at Wycliffe Bible Translators. Besides getting the Word of God into every language that needs it in this generation, my passion is to see young people step up and take leadership.

I’m going to sleep

You’ve likely heard the line: “The Lord grants sleep to those he loves.” So what does my brain conclude when I’m awake in the early hours, trying to get my mind to shut down so my body can get back to sleep? Insomnia already lends itself to negative spirals, so you don’t want to let the thought in that God’s love is measured by the quality or quantity of our sleep.

One morning last month when I finally gave up trying to sleep, I looked up that verse in two versions to capture the nuances. It’s even more confusing, because what does that last line have to do with everything that precedes it?

Unless the Lord builds the house,
    those who build it labor in vain.
Unless the Lord watches over the city,
    the watchman stays awake in vain.
It is in vain that you rise up early
    and go late to rest,
eating the bread of anxious toil;
    for he gives to his beloved sleep. (ESV)

Unless the Lord builds the house,
    the builders labor in vain.
Unless the Lord watches over the city,
    the guards stand watch in vain.
In vain you rise early
    and stay up late,
toiling for food to eat—
    for he grants sleep to those he loves. (NIV)

Let’s dig in and try to put the thoughts together. If only I was working from a bit more sleep…

Notice a few phrases: “Labor in vain.” “Stay awake in vain.” “Rise early in vain.” “Stay up late in vain.” And “anxious toil.” Ultimately all of these situations boil down to a person believing he is indispensable – that everything depends on him.

Or her. Remember that the celebrated wife in Proverbs 31 rises while it is still night to provide food for her household (v15), and her lamp does not go out at night (v18). Lack of sleep is no respecter of gender.

Sleepless nights are particularly a problem for leaders, who are builders, who are watchmen, who are providers and protectors. These roles are not trivial. People’s livelihoods, and even their lives, could be at stake. Knowing the author is Solomon also tells us another piece of context: this house he’s building is the Temple in Jerusalem (1 Kings 5-8). It adds a spiritual element to our roles: as spiritual shepherds and watchmen, we must rely on God to keep watch over the souls of those we lead (Heb 13:17).

The first point of the psalm is that we need to cooperate with God’s work. Unless God is working, the fact we’re staying up late or rising early won’t get us ahead. Better to give it to God and let him carry the burden for us. When we do that, whether it’s at night, during vacations or even during work hours, we are able to release the pressure of holding everything ourselves.

But let’s go deeper. Why does the author—Solomon himself—bring up the fact that we’re beloved? This gets at the heart of why the work doesn’t really depend on us. 

We know God chose Solomon to be king even before he was born. He would be a man of rest, and God himself would call him his son (1 Chronicles 22:9-10). The Lord loved Solomon and even gave him a special name: “God’s beloved” (2 Samuel 12:24-25). When God appeared to him in a dream and he chose wisdom over health and long life (1 Kings 3:10-12), he was not trying to prove his worth because he already had it.

Worthiness is not part of a father’s equation; if a son didn’t earn that status, he can’t lose it or gain more of it through his decisions and actions. That knowledge leads you to a place of deep rest.

Finally, notice that three of the things we do “in vain” take place at night. When I lose sleep at night, it’s because I’m turning things over in my head. As soon as something wakes me, my brain immediately begins racing 100 miles an hour. So at 3am, I’m moving from problem to problem, turning them around and trying to solve them. But I’m not writing anything down. I’m not capturing thoughts. I’m not getting up and working the problem. It’s all in vain.

Anxious toil was Martha’s problem, too. While her sister Mary sat at Jesus’ feet, listening to him, Martha was working hard, “worried and upset about many things” (Luke 10:38-42). I used to think I didn’t have a problem with anxiety, especially compared to others… until I named my sleepless hours for what they are: anxious toil.

So over the past week or two, I’ve been trying something. When I wake up in the middle of the night, I remind myself that I don’t need to do anything to earn or improve my status with God. I hand my anxieties and the sources of those anxieties back to God to hold for the night. I let him be the watchman. Then I try to dwell on what God says about me as his beloved. I picture myself sitting at Jesus feet.

I don’t often quote popes. But sometimes at 3am, I also quote John XXIII’s great line: “This is your church, Lord. I’m going to bed.”

Good enough

When you need to make a decision, what percent of information would you say you need to move ahead? Is it closer to 100% or 60%? Err one way, and you fall into the ditch of analysis paralysis. The other side of the road can spill you into rash action. 

In Blink, Malcolm Gladwell argues that in many situations, people know instantaneously what they need to do, and the problem with waiting is that you can talk yourself out of the right answer. That was my experience in every high school exam. If I knew the answer, great. If I had an inkling but wasn’t sure, I’d then try to logic out the answer, and I’d choose a different answer than my immediate sense. Gladwell suggests you may have enough information in a split second to know what to do, and time could be your enemy. 

In The Contrarian’s Guide to Leadership, Dr. Steven Sample goes the other way. He urges leaders to ask, “How much time do I have?” If you have another week to make a decision, some additional information might come to light that would lead to a better decision. Of course, if the decision is needed today, you have to make the best decision you can with whatever information is available now, knowing that to not make a decision is a decision. The reality is that some problems resolve themselves, or solutions emerge as other leaders step up. In other words, the more lead time, the better your decision success rate should be. Think of it as strategic procrastination: put off until tomorrow what doesn’t have to be decided today. When time is up, whatever knowledge you have is “good enough.” 

There are ditches on both sides of the road.

Back to my original question: For you, what percentage of the information you wish you had is sufficient to make a decision? It’s a question of risk tolerance. If it helps, ask it this way, “Compared to others, for a particular type of decision, am I more or less risk averse?” 

For me, I can certainly be decisive, but when asked to make a decision, I find it helpful to dig deeper. The amount of information needed depends on the scope, gravity and reversibility of the decision. Most leadership decisions are not life and death, but some have far-reaching implications. Here are some of my approaches:

  1. Filtering. The amount of information available to us is unprecedented, so it’s obviously not the quantity of information we need. One of Gladwell’s solutions is the idea of filtering the factors that matter, so it’s less about how much information than what types of information to pay attention to. I remember a very helpful acronym from my university calculus classes: TBU. Some information is True But Useless
  1. Breaking it down. Many decisions are actually a series of decisions, and you proceed to the next stage if the answer is “not no.” In these cases, you have time to see how the first “yes” develops before proceeding or adjusting course. 
  1. Prototyping. I have seen that many decisions allow for a ready-aim-fire, aim-and-fire again approach. In my work with innovators, I’ve learned the value of a minimal viable product (MVP) to start moving, and to test and learn from earlier attempts while working on a more effective version 2.0.
  1. Holding. I tend toward Sample’s advice, determining what kind of decision is needed and how long I need. In his dissertation on “Leading with Limited Knowledge,” Rob Hay describes “holding” as carrying, pondering, and wrestling with an issue, turning it around in your hand to consider its many facets. In the middle of a situation—when thinking, praying, reflecting and discerning are most critical—time and space are costly. But those are key parts of a leader’s job description. 
  1. Testing. For significant decisions, I often utilize Ruth Haley Barton’s spiritual discernment process laid out in Pursuing God’s Will Together. There are a lot of great practices there, but let me highlight one. Barton recommends deciding in your mind one way and letting it sit for a while before doing the same with the other choice. The implications of the decision emerge in ways you might not have noticed if you stayed in neutral.

In Acts 15, the early Church demonstrated a form of discernment in the way they approached a critical decision. The question they faced touched on deep-seated biases and had very significant implications that could tear the Church apart: Should the Church remain exclusive to Jews, or should it expand to include Gentiles? After hearing the facts and listening to debate, James, the leader of the Church in Jerusalem, held up their arguments against his own study of Scripture and then made a judgment call. Three times after that, the Church carried out implementation steps that “seemed good”—to various parties, “to the Holy Spirit and to us” (Acts 15:22, 25, 28). 

There’s a humility in those words. Even when it’s an earth-shaking decision that will decide the future of the Church, the best James and the elders could do was conclude that it seemed good.  It’s an acknowledgement that our best efforts to hear the arguments and logic out the implications are limited and flawed, because we are human. Even if God clearly speaks, we can get it wrong because of our interpretations or the lens we use. The most we can do is conclude that it seems right, and accept that God has given those who lead in this moment the responsibility to make the decision.

We will never get it right 100% of the time, but we have to move forward.

I’ve taken to calling my approach “good enough.” I talk about it in terms of 90%—an arbitrary number that simply represents imperfection. 

  • If I can get 90% of the information that’s available at the point the decision is required, move ahead. 
  • If I can get most of the value out of a 90% MVP approach, move ahead.1
  • If I can get 90% in the room in favor of a direction, move ahead.2
  • And if I’m 90% sure that God is pointing in a certain direction, test that decision, sit with it, share it humbly, and then move ahead. 

Rob Hay promotes the idea of “tentative certainty.” Rather than try to make the whole decision, tentative certainty means being certain enough, with the amount of knowledge available, to take the next step. As you begin to act, pay attention in order to respond to the unexpected and be able to change direction.

  1. That extra 10% will likely take a lot more resources without adding much value anyway. ↩︎
  2. In most cases, people need to know their voice was heard, but consensus isn’t required. ↩︎

Courage!

She grabbed me and made sure I was looking into her eyes. “Coo-rajh!” she told me. It was the early days of my time as president of an organization, and this staff member who had spent many years in Francophone Africa had a clear message for me, which sounds much cooler in French but reads bilingually: “Courage!”

Eleven years later, at my final staff meeting as president, the board presented me with this print from Indigenous artist, Leissa MacDonald. In the artist statement, MacDonald says,

The Bear is a symbol of courage, bravery is taught to us by the bear. Bears are known to confront threats they should be fearful of, they protect their cubs against larger bears and other dangers. The bear also reminds us to be playful and to rest when needed. It is in the balance of these teachings that we are taught how to be courageous.

I’m not sure the board could have given me a greater gift than affirming that I had led with courage. Let’s unpack a few elements in this description and how I sought to apply them.

1. Confront threats (they should be fearful of)

I always reject any suggestion that there is such thing as a “fearless leader.” While I was president, when we would get ready to embark on a new initiative with significant risk, I would lose sleep. I’d be afraid it wouldn’t work. I’d be afraid for those who would be hurt or feel marginalized by the change or who wouldn’t have roles after the change went through. We all have fears.

But my driver on any change was the anticipation of threats. The status quo is a place of safety… for a while. But it eventually becomes a liability and will lead to major issues. I always try to look down the line to see the dangers coming, and address issues early. Threats that seem small today tend to grow. Rather than facing a huge bear in the future, it’s better to face the bear earlier at its current size. Of course, it also occasionally means challenging a huge bear and taking on an issue that cannot be ignored.

What makes this approach particularly difficult is that it’s a prophetic role. The leader looks like a provocateur, stirring up issues that no one else feels are important. People pleasers and procrastinators will always struggle with this role of a leader. When I began serving as president and looked at the long list of issues I inherited, I made a personal promise that I would not hand these challenges off to my successor, but I would address them. I did shorten the list considerably, but I still grieve the ones I wasn’t able to resolve and the new ones that arose (some I likely caused) that I had to leave for my successor.

2. Protect your cubs

In 2 Corinthians 11, Paul lays out a long list of tragedies he’s faced for the sake of the gospel: beatings, shipwrecks, floggings, etc. Then in verses 28-29, he adds,

Besides everything else, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches. Who is weak, and I do not feel weak? Who is led into sin, and I do not inwardly burn?

Part of the role of leadership is to carry deep concern for those you lead. It’s a daily pressure. This includes some who are struggling with change, some who are weak, some dealing with mental health issues, and some who are led into sin. Losses feel very personal. We feel every blow.

So the job of the leader is to to be a mama bear, where no one wants to get between you and your cubs. In The Contrarian’s Guide to Leadership, Dr. Stephen Sample has a rule: No complaining about your team. If a leader delegates something to a team member, she has two choices: support them or fire them. The leader does not get to complain about someone on her team who’s underperforming. If the results aren’t there, the primary strategy available to her is to invest in the person and help get to the bottom of why the staff member is not accomplishing the job that was delegated. Her only other option is to change the delegation, handing the job to someone else.

Protecting your cubs does not mean you don’t have to make courageous personnel decisions. I appreciate another of Dr. Sample’s rules: Shoot your own horse. If a rancher has a sick or hurting pig, cow or sheep, he can get a neighbour to help him put the animal out of its misery. But not a horse. As a rancher’s closest companion and most trustworthy partner in accomplishing his work, if a man needs to put his horse down, he has to look the animal in the eye and do it himself. Sample concludes that a leader must show sufficient respect and courage to fire his own deputies rather than delegate that job. I would add that he should do everything he can to show generosity, care and provision as he does it. In some cases, I’ve been able to eventually turn a former staff person into an ally and advocate even though I inflicted the pain of termination.

Letting a staff member go can be a means of protecting your cubs. I remember a time when I had to let a longtime staff member go, one who had been fighting accountability at every turn. The next day I saw the staff member who had been providing that accountability. Her countenance seemed different. I swear she had a bounce in her step. Remember that you never want to lose good staff because you didn’t address poor-performing staff quickly enough.

3. Play and rest

At first, Leissa MacDonald’s comment about play and rest feels like an incongruity. What is the connection to courage?

It takes courage and faith to step away to take a vacation, a weekend or a good night’s sleep, because it’s an act of releasing control. There’s a story that during the long, exhausting hours of the Second Vatican Council, Pope John XXIII announced one night, “God, it’s your Church. I’m going to bed.” Turning over the keys is primarily a declaration that God is in charge, not us. G.K. Chesterton comments:

The greatest act of faith that a man can perform is the act that we perform every night. We abandon our identity, we turn our soul and body into chaos and old night. We uncreate ourselves as if at the end of the world: for all practical purposes we become dead men, in the sure and certain hope of a glorious resurrection. After that it is in vain for us to call ourselves pessimists when we have this trust in the laws of nature, when we let them keep an armed and omnipotent watch over our cradle. It is in vain for us to say that we think the ultimate power evil when every twelve hours or so we give our soul and body back to God without security. This is the essential sanctity of sleep… (Chesterton, Lunacy and Letters)

Taking time for rest reflects a deep faith in God’s ability to carry your load or manage the organization you steward.

For a leader, there’s never really a good time to step away for rest and play, but it is critical. Reed Hastings has been asked many times to explain the 2-word vacation policy he rolled out at Netflix: “Take some.” Hastings points out that in many young companies, the real issue is that no one uses their vacation days. It’s true for many non-profits as well. Staff work long hours and struggle to step away, especially if the culture or their leader subtly celebrates workaholism. So in 2003, Hastings removed the upper cap on vacation days and began to model vacation-taking. He forced himself to take month-long trips and then told everyone he could what a great time he had. The company survived without him, and often he came back with fresh ideas. It took courage to step away for that long when leading such a huge and growing company. It took even greater courage to trust his staff and remove the constraints.

Let me also add an affirmation for all those who aren’t first-chair leaders. Having recently transitioned back into a second-chair role, I’ve observed that at times there is a peace in knowing that the buck stops with someone else. But it also requires faith and the courage to follow when decisions were made and you weren’t in the room. It’s that same sense of trust that allows a leader to rest and play.

Conclusion

The question for leaders is whether we have the faith to push past our fears and the setbacks and challenges that come our way. My observation is that you don’t necessarily start out with the courage you will need. At the beginning, the threats and challenges look enormous. It’s in the practice of leadership, from the earliest attempts all the way to the first chair (and back down again), where the muscles get developed. It’s a daily practice. Staying in the game, choosing again today to lead rather than be passive, that’s what teaches us to be courageous.


Another of my favorite blog posts on courage can be found here: Courage and Leadership

An overlapping circle model for mission

In my previous post, I introduced a way of seeing Acts 1:8 as a call to global Church partnership through the idea of overlapping circles. Like intersecting ripples that radiate across a pond from a rain storm, the location of one church’s “ends of the earth” might be another church’s “Judea,” and one church’s “Samaria” might be another’s “Jerusalem.”

Jesus’ plan for mission could be summarized by four concurrent strategies:

1. Local, indigenous evangelism. Local people have real advantages to being missional in their own context. Instinctively, they know the community and the language. Travel costs are reduced and they don’t need cross-cultural training. The problem is that they lack the ability to step back and notice things that would be obvious to an outsider. In other words, they have blind spots about their own language and culture. To expose those blind spots, it takes a visitor from another ring with fresh eyes showing up and asking dumb questions or breaking the culture and language down through analysis.

2. National outreach. Likewise, everyone has a pretty good grasp of the surrounding and near culture, and some of the same savings in travel and training apply here as well. Certainly local citizens need less help to understand and relate to their culture than a foreigner would. However, there are some problems. They are vulnerable to absorbing the surrounding culture without question or noticing how it’s changing them, perhaps developing nearsightedness or even nationalistic tendencies. One specific trap is that they might gloss over differences like regional biases and flavours. Missions within their own country might still require cross-cultural skills to bridge gaps to their neighbors.

3. Marginalized reconciliation. To my mind, Samaria refers to the groups anyone marginalizes or has trouble getting along with. These are the places where regional biases cross the line into prejudices, and generations of pain and even hatred may need to be unraveled. Ministry in these contexts therefore begins with truth-telling reconciliation. Only after addressing woundedness can individuals or churches be effective witnesses. The good news is that other nations and cultures can act as a neutral third party to set the table. In fact, others’ experiences can help churches with their tensions and struggles if they can learn from and honestly apply the others’ lessons to their own failures and successes.

4. Expatriate missions. In order to reach every nation, some will need to leave their home country to go overseas. This is the costliest approach to missions, but we shouldn’t underestimate the way the gospel has spread and brought transformation around the world because of the faith and risks taken by foreign missionaries. To do it well requires a great deal of understanding in order to fully contextualize the gospel and Scriptures across cultural borders without adding our own cultural ideals and historical assumptions. We go in as servants to the local community or local Church. It also requires making long-term commitments and taking the long view in expectations and metrics.

Bottom line: mission is most effective when the global Church comes together and works together—in local evangelism, national outreach, reconciliation and cross-cultural mission, but also mixing roles like prayer, funding, and other forms of resourcing—to participate together in God’s purposes to draw all people to himself.


Acts 1:8 Series

Overlapping Circles

After considering how the disciples understood Jesus’ words in Acts 1:8, and how a global, current day Church understands those words, let me get to my point. It starts with two statements:

1. I believe Jesus was speaking to all believers, and he was laying out a pattern for mission that could be applied worldwide: You, the Church, will be my witnesses in concentric circles: wherever you consider your Jerusalem, your Judea, your Samaria and your ends of the earth. 

2. Each circle must be engaged with the humble realization that your “Jerusalem” or “Judea” is someone else’s “ends of the earth,” someone else’s “Samaria.” Our circles overlap. 

This is how I believe Jesus pictured the Church in Acts 1:8:

There are numerous implications of this metaphor.

First, the overlap. Each part of the Church has an epicenter for its missional activity but has responsibility to engage in other rings as God leads them and opens doors. In that way, every part of the world is covered, double covered and triple covered, each location or category the responsibility of multiple branches of the Church.

Second, the ripples crash into each other. These overlapping circles interact with each other and even interdepend on each other. But, as with ripples in a pond, there are secondary impacts as the ripples affect each other. Such overlap is unpredictable, bound to create additional opportunities, consequences and disruptions.

Here are a few implications that come to mind for me:

  • Jesus intended expatriates and local citizens to minister together in mission. An expat Kenyan who wants to do ministry in Canada should certainly work together with local Canadians who are trying to reach their Jerusalem. Any ministry to a marginalized group should incorporate the nearby Church who loves and understands that demographic. As some have said, “Nothing about them without them.”
  • If there’s no local Church among a people group, then the overlapping circles create opportunity for partnership to cover the gap until a church is birthed who can focus on their “Jerusalem.”
  • We’d be fools to try to do mission without local and indigenous insight and partnership. When we go overseas, we must take the role of servants, putting ourselves in second place to those who understand language and culture to a degree we never will.  
  • Conversely, we would be negligent in fulfilling our part in Jesus’ mission if we took a “take-care-of-your-own” approach and simply delegated mission in every country to local people. This image forces us to consider the crash of ripples coming together in the interplay between those who provide funds or staff and those who spend the budget.
  • We would be missing Jesus’ intent if we didn’t see the value that immigrant missionaries in our country could bring to help us reach our nation.
  • If you think of the conceptual meaning of “Samaria,” which might be a group with historical tensions with our own, it’s worthwhile asking who considers us their “Samaria.” Other parts of the Church might be able to help break down those barriers and even help heal the rifts.

Ultimately, this metaphor asks who we should partner with to accomplish the mission for any location we feel drawn to or called to. Rather than working alone to impact our city, who else has a passion to reach our neighbourhood, city or province? Could we be the catalyst that makes their ministry effective?

For instance, can you imagine the power of the overlapping circles working together to reach Canada? What if the Church in Montreal or in Eeyou Istchee (a First Nations community in northern Quebec) partnered with a local Ottawa church to reach our nation’s capital? What would have to happen to enable that kind of remarkable inter-circle ministry? Who or what would stand in the way of such a partnership?

I know I’m only beginning to scratch the surface of the implications for this way of thinking. What other applications do you see?


Acts 1:8 Series

We live in the ends of the earth

I believe Jesus’ words in Acts 1:8 were intended not just for his immediate audience, the disciples who would become apostles, but for all believers, all generations. Indeed, the Church in every generation has applied its own interpretations to these locations. Ours is a translated faith, a religion that Lamin Sanneh argues was intended to be translated from the very beginning and would continue to be translated.1

While the disciples might have been limited in their perception of the ends of the earth, I believe Jesus, the One who spoke creation into being (Col 1:15-16), was thinking of the distant shores of Papua New Guinea and the desert tribes of the Gobi, Great Victorian and Sahara. I also believe he anticipated the state of the global Church today: a decentralized Church existing in every part of the world.

It’s important to understand where we in North America fit in. If Jesus’ disciples could have comprehended Canada and the U.S. at the time, they would certainly have slotted us into the “ends of the earth” category.

Think about the implications of that for a minute. The North American Church is so used to being the center of Christianity, but we started off-center, and the center of Christianity has moved to the southern and eastern hemispheres.

Our contextualization of these verses simply exists alongside the view of other believers around the world. Where do they think of when they hear Jesus’ words? I asked that recently in a Zoom call with two dozen people from every part of the world. Here are some of the results:

What you think of as Jerusalem/JudeaWhat you think of as the ends of the earth
U.K.Outer Mongolia
NetherlandsChina
KoreaAfrica
NigeriaNorth and South Poles
U.S.North Pole
U.S.Siberia
EthiopiaAmerica
NetherlandsNew Zealand
IndiaEnd of India
U.S.Abu Dhabi
U.S.East and West coast of U.S.
CameroonAmerica
U.K.Vancouver

How many of you live in someone else’s ends of the earth? Have you ever visited a place you once viewed as the ends of the earth? The mobility we experience today is truly remarkable! The Church is a global Church, present and engaging in mission everywhere.

We’ll build from these two posts as I get to my main point in the next blog post.


Acts 1:8 Series

1 Sanneh, Lamin. Whose Religion is Christianity? The Gospel Beyond the West. Eerdmans. 2003, p97.

The disciples’ view of the ends of the earth

We all know the verse well. In Acts 1:8, Jesus said,

“But you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you; and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth” (NIV).

In a series of blog posts, I want to unpack the four locations in the second part of the verse, with a particular focus on the last part. Throughout church history, there have been different ways to understand Jesus’ words. Others have certainly offered a variety of interpretations springing out of whether they take the locations literally or figuratively. Sill others have pointed out the implications for mission strategy, for instance highlighting the fact it does not say “then” but “and”—that you don’t have to reach Jerusalem before moving to another zone but mission should engage all four zones. I don’t want to repeat what others have said. Instead, I want to underscore a couple of foundational points before proposing a way to think about the implications for today.

In order to consider how we should interpret these words, it’s helpful to understand how the Jesus’ disciples, the original apostles, likely heard these words.

1. People and races

The apostles likely heard Jesus list people groups: Jews, more Jews, Samaritans and Gentiles. They were fine with the first two but likely found the next two as uncomfortable, if not repulsive. Their belief was that the Messiah was intended for the Jews, and they assumed that the gospel would be just as exclusive. Indeed, it takes almost half of the book of Acts for the early church to break those preconceptions, and Paul addresses the residual issues frequently, such as in Romans 11, the book of Galatians and Ephesians 2.

2. Geography

But the apostles would also have thought in geographic terms. Let’s look at two of the locations on the list.

Jerusalem

For the apostles, Jerusalem wasn’t their home base; none of them were from the capital city. Rather, in Luke 24:46-49, Jesus told them to wait in the city of Jerusalem. His design was for their ministry to begin there. Why? Was it because it was the cultural or religious capital? The nearby center of influence? More likely the city was chosen as the launching point for salvation because of its significance to redemption. It was there that God provided a substitutionary sacrifice for Isaac (Gen 22:2), there where God promised to dwell with men (2 Chron 3:1, 7:16) and there that Jesus became the sacrificial and substitutionary lamb to redeem everyone. If that’s the case, it’s more difficult to contextualize it to identify “our Jerusalem.” Jerusalem would be Jerusalem.

However, the disciples almost immediately contextualized the verse. As early as Acts 8, the scattered believers became witnesses in Samaria—a literal fulfillment of the verse. But their approach in Samaria seems to start at the center of influence—the capital city (8:5)—followed by a witness radiating out into the Samaritan countryside (8:25). Ronald Hesselgrave says this ‘center mission’ strategy became a pattern for Paul throughout the Roman Empire: “the establishment of young congregations in key cities that served as ‘centers’ or bases of operation for missional outreach” in major metropolises such as “Antioch, Thessalonica, Ephesus, and Rome.”1 In that sense, the apostles did apply the idea of Jerusalem conceptually in other locations.

The ends of the earth

This expression was used in the disciples’ Scriptures (the Old Testament) many times, so the phrase was packed with prior understanding. For instance, Psalm 72 says God will rule from sea to sea, from the River to the ends of the earth, then follows by mentioning desert tribes and distant shores. Isaiah 42:10-12 says God’s praise will be proclaimed from the end of the earth—the coastlands, desert, mountains and islands. Isaiah 49:6 makes it clear that the Messiah will not only be for the Jews but will be a light for the nations (Gentiles), to bring God’s salvation to the end of the earth. Psalm 107:3 refers to redeemed people in all four compass directions. The apostles likely imagined being witnesses in places as far south as Ethiopia, as far west as Spain, as far east as Babylon and as far north as northern Italy. Over time, these very apostles would literally grow the map, as their missionary endeavors took them beyond the edges of the known world, into places such as India.

Like much of the prophecy in the Old Testament, I believe there were multiple levels of meaning in this passage. It’s clear from the apostles’ behavior that they took Jesus’ words both literally and figuratively. I also believe Jesus’ words have been relevant for each generation of disciples who heard the words, and so they are relevant to us today.

We’ll build on the implications of this foundation in my future posts. We’ll build from these two posts as I get to my main point in the next blog post.


Acts 1:8 Series

1 Hesselgrave, Ronald. “The Theology of Mission in Acts 1:8.” William Carey International University. Unknown date. Web. 3 Dec 2024. <https://www.academia.edu/112010880/The_Theology_of_Mission_in_Acts_1_8>

Moving from the front row

Let me address a question my readers may have been wondering. Where did I go for the past few years? Why haven’t I been posting anything? There are a few factors.

First, I had more opportunity to think about leadership before I got busy leading. The business of leading takes a lot of focus and energy, and that was the case in my role as president of an organization and my current role, helping turn a startup initiative into a standup. The stats for this blog bear that out, from the early days of posting 5-6 times a month during my years of leadership development to struggling to even post once a month while serving as president.

Second, I had a lot more to say about leadership principles when it was theoretical. I had certainly led before, at lower levels. A lot of my thoughts were inspired by books and the concepts resonated in my personal experience. I stand by most of my observations, and I believe this blog collectively portrays my leadership style. But now I place less certitude in my own leadership observations.

But this doesn’t explain why my posts have all but dried up in the past two years. I haven’t given up on this blog. In theory, I should have even more content to offer.

Third, I have doubts about the broad relevance of my leadership experience. Leadership is contextual. Some authors are prolific in turning their leadership experience into formulas. I don’t think I’ve figured out how to package up my leadership experiences yet. I’ll keep reflecting and attempting to do that here, but it may take some time.

There has been an irony in a front row leader maintaining a blog called “The Back Row Leader.” Perhaps I’m better equipped to post my thoughts here when I’m not in the front row. The value I can offer other leaders out of the wisdom of experience should exceed my early, prolific years. So I plan to ramp up again over the next few months.

I will be adding a new channel to this blog that I believe might breathe new life into The Back Row Leader. While leadership will still be a focus for this blog, I plan to start “thinking out loud” about missiology and other topics to help leaders engage with our world. I’ll start by digging back into content I released in other platforms to refresh and release here. Stay tuned!

The only way to get off a bull

In mid-February, I stepped down as president of Wycliffe Canada after 11 years. Over the previous five months, after I concluded it was time to move on from this role, I thought often about the analogy of Leadership as bull riding that I unpacked in my last post.

Shawn Bellows operates Bull Riding 101, a backyard school that teaches the fundamentals for aspiring bull riders. He says, “A lot of people think you just hang on and make ugly faces for eight seconds… But there’s body position and an art to being in the right spot at the right time.” Interesting parallels to leadership there: some just hang on, and some groan and moan about the challenges of leadership. I long to see leaders who can lean into the twists and turns, and position themselves well.

What I want to talk about here and in a number of future posts is the art of walking away. A successful bull rider not only survives the full eight seconds, but hopefully pulls off a great ride and then walks away with his head high. The problem is that a 2,000-pound bull doesn’t just stop like its mechanical cousin when it runs out of coins. Mr. Bellows offers this sobering thought:

“The only way to get off a bull is to buck off.”

So perhaps the most critical skill for any bull rider is to know how and when to dismount. Ideally with a planned dismount, in which the rider picks the right moment and then executes a rehearsed plan to slide off, landing on his hands and knees and crawling quickly to safety. This is a dangerous moment, when a number of things can go wrong: the rider might not be able to free his hand from the rope, he may be tossed or land badly, or the bull might come after him.

How does a leader “buck off” gracefully? When I announced last September that it was time for me to move on from the top role, I was committed to finishing well, but it wasn’t as smooth as I was hoping it would be. I’m learning that my experience is more common than I’d like to think. A young friend leading another organization sent me this note after learning of my plans:

I haven’t as much experience as you but in all my transitions even though my heart has been trying to help in every way to make smooth but unfortunately boards and leaders don’t always see it that way. My biggest hurts that I’ve worked through as a leader have been trying to leave well and not being “allowed “ to do so. Wish I had an answer for you – but am praying for you!! I am not aware of very many smooth and healthy transitions in our line of work.

I’m still working through what it looks like to land well and move on, but a blog is far too public a way to process it. I think my friend said it well: leaders need to be praying for each other, in beginnings and endings.


Bull Riding 101: How to get off,  article by Ann LoLordo, Baltimore Sun, Sep 21, 1995

Bull Rider Coach – The Dismount, video by Dustin Elliott and Wiley Petersen, Bullridercoach.com, Nov 27, 2014

Leadership as bull riding

There are a lot of analogies for leadership that each have strengths to capture various facets. In this blog, I’ve used metaphors such as gardening, shepherding and art directing. I’ve been fascinated by others’ analogies of a symphony orchestra or a peloton of cyclists. Here I want to unpack a new metaphor that’s captured my interest.

Though I live in Calgary, home of “The Greatest Outdoor Show on Earth,” I am an uncomfortable Calgarian when it comes to our city’s celebrated Stampede week. Fairly frequently, I’ve found a reason to be out of town that week. So consider these the observations of a poorly-informed city slicker on the remarkable sport of bull riding.

I’m betting that most of my readers don’t know any more about rodeo than I do, so let’s establish a baseline understanding:

  • The rider mounts the bull in a chute, with railings preventing the beast from fighting back against this irritant climbing onto its back.
  • There is no saddle, but the rider grips a handle connected to a rope around the bull’s chest. He cannot touch the bull with his other hand, but holds on with his knees.
  • The chute is then opened, and the clock begins. The goal is to stay on the bull and score as many points as possible against the most challenging ride possible over the next eight seconds.

Recognizing the deficiency in my knowledge, I find the bull riding analogy is fairly apt for organizational leadership. A 2,000 pound bull is much more powerful than the rider, and it prefers to be left alone. It is big enough to go where it wants to go, and there’s little that can be done to stop it or steer it.

A rider will never actually be in control, but does have some control over his experience and the bull’s behavior. He gains points for style and personality—things like maintaining poise, with his hat on and one hand waving the air, driving his spurs rhythmically into the bull’s side.

A bull reacts to a disruption to its status quo by making unpredictable leaps, spins, kicks and jerks, trying desperately to be free of the rider. My observation is that a high-level bull rider draws on a wealth of experience that allows him to keep his balance and even prompt certain reactions. Experience leads him to anticipate movement and lean into what’s coming next.

The point isn’t to merely stay on the bull for eight seconds; to score lots of points, the bull rider must gain style points while having a challenging ride. Few points are scored if the bull is weak or moves predictably, or if the rider loses the ability to follow his game plan and simply reacts. Bull riders will celebrate when they draw the biggest bull with the reputation for throwing its riders, because it’s an opportunity to prove themselves against the best opposition.

All of this to say that a successful ride takes place when the bull’s agenda is met by the rider’s agenda, and the illusion is created that a wild force has been mastered. The bull rider appears to have steered the bull when in reality, he may have merely managed to not fall off.

Likewise, an organization is a big, strong system that offers some indicators of how it will behave, but cannot be controlled. It automatically reacts against a change agent who tries to steer it. The leader tries to stay atop the organization, drawing on a grid of previous experience to try to anticipate, absorb and even steer the organization’s movement. And success for a leader is a bit of an illusion. Those we think of as the greatest leaders proved themselves against seemingly-insurmountable challenges and every attempt from the system to throw them off—leaders like Lincoln and Churchill.

What parallels do you see to organizational culture and the illusions of leadership? What lessons do you draw from this analogy?