Going Off the Air

As mentioned in a previous post, our church home for the past seven years since moving back to NH is going off the air. That may strike you as a mixed metaphor (a home and a TV broadcast), but confusing images seems suitable. The event is so jangling, so dissonant, that the only way to describe it may well be to compare apples to elephants.

I found myself driving home from work tonite realizing that soon, for the first time in a long time, I'm going to have to think about where, and with whom, I will be worshiping on a Sunday morning. For many people I suppose that an odd choice (I suspect most people don't worry much about what to do on a Sunday morning), but it makes sense when you realize that throughout my adult life my most meaningful relationships have always been found through the churches we attend. Work relationships were good, because I get along with most everyone. But the friendships I formed at church have always been the most important and significant. It has been at church that I formed the most foundational aspects of my identity, and at church that I perform what I believe to be my most important labor outside the work I do with and for my family.

 Tomorrow is the day we throw the going away party.

We will gather for a final worship service, to hear the Word, to share the Meal, to make our offerings together. Then we will gather on a high grassy ridge overlooking the Merrimack Valley and have a picnic. We'll eat, and there will be talking and laughing, likely some crying, and more eating and talking. We are good at talking (and eating), so that also fits.

We have plans to meet again periodically through the summer on Wednesday afternoons, as has been our custom over the past years, but these will not be worship services. That part of our fellowship officially ends tomorrow.

I'm still unsure this is right. I think it is, but feel it isn't, and I don't know quite what to make of that. I have no fear or worry about the future. I am confident that it will turn out all right. I just don't like the way the notes are sounding right now. The chord seems all wrong and I can't sense how the composer will resolve the piece.

I have given some thought to why this is all happening. Stay tuned. Analysis later.

Marking the Plot

I'd like to welcome my good friend Ron Jung into that strange jungle we know as the blogosphere. He has been circling around, sniffing the air, for some time now. He's finally gotten around to scratching out a spot on the ground, lifting his leg and leaving his wet yellow scent marker on the digital tree that is the worldwideweb.

He hasn't said much yet, except to say that he hasn't said much. Nevertheless, I encourage you to stop by occasionally. If I know Ron at all (and I assure you -- I do) he will come up with something provocative, profound, and possibly paradigm shifting. He might even say something funny, although that may or may not be intentional. I'm confident that all things considered, it will be worthwhile.

You can find him at This Little Plot.

The Well Aimed Arrow

A few days ago a friend asked me a question that was so perfectly timed and so penetrating in it’s nature that it caused me to experience a professional epiphany.

I want to remark primarily upon the experience of being asked, and then answering this kind of question. The context was a conversation about a sales presentation in which I came away with mediocre results. The particular situation was full of potential that I simply did not maximize, and I was not sure why and I was not particularly happy about it.

My friend then asked me what I was focusing on communicating to my prospects. The exact questions was, “What were you pounding on?”

I immediately answered the question with the obvious answer, and then instantly my world did this sort of flip flop as I realized that I had totally missed the boat. I had simply done the same presentation I always did, pounding on making money and reducing stress, which is a perfect message for 98% of my audiences. In this case, however, I failed to account for some significant differences in the way this particular audience would perceive what I had to sell. In a flash, all this was revealed to me by one simple question. These people were much more interested in saving time and reducing stress, but not very interested in making more money. Most of them had that part nailed and certainly didn’t need my help. By remaining in my familiar rut, and assuming that money was the most important thing (even though I KNEW they made lots of money) I completely missed a huge opportunity.

It was such an amazing experience to realize this. It almost felt as if the world truly flipped upside down.

I thanked my friend by swearing at him and calling him a son of a b***h (maybe it’s a guy thing). He laughed because he knew that meant that his question had the intended effect. It is never pleasant to see oneself exposed for being stupid and shortsighted. It is, however, a good thing. He is still my friend, and I appreciate his courage and skill in asking me that question.
The direct lesson will be invaluable to me. The indirect lesson may prove to just as valuable. The elegance of the properly placed and well timed question and change someone’s life. What a tremendous skill to learn. It will be even better, when I learn to ask myself those kinds of questions.