Creating a Movement

Movements occur when an unsettled group of people bonds together around a common desire or vision to see a preferred future become reality.

Martin Luther King in his most famous speech uttered these familiar words - "I have a dream." In the next few minutes he outlined his vision for a united interracial United States of America. Many listeners that day decided to link arms with King and dare to create a movement towards this preferred future he described. The journey towards this preferred future wasn't easy. There was a great cost to many individual lives that had both positive and negative long-term effects on humankind. And here today, as I type about something that happened decades before my existence on this planet, I still benefit from a dream that became a reality.

Many of us long to leave a lasting impression on the world in which we live. Some of us desire to make the world a better place, while others of us may simply hope that we receive all that we had hoped for out of life. Regardless of what our personal motivation might be, the outcome of these collective desires is to create some sort of movement towards or away from something.

Creating a movement is a lot like causing an infection. Infections occur most typically as a result of some sort of wound that has been inflicted or caused. A system only learns to grow and to change when it has do deal with adversity. Here are four things I'm learning about creating sustainable movements:

1. Embrace and name the wound. The courage to create and pursue change or movement comes from unsettledness with the status quo. In this unsettling process, it is essential that we take the time to name or identify the root of the disconnectedness. We can't diagnose what the issue is unless we are aware of the symptoms. Sometimes wounds are the source of the unsettledness, but sometimes they are only the symptom of the root cause. Diagnosing the wound can only occur through the filter of communal discernment. What this means is that we need to speak about our wounds with a group of trusted sojourners so that we can evaluate what it is and what it might mean.

2. Pain isn't meant to paralyze. We live in a modern society that expresses distaste for pain. Our culture is built through the use of numbing agents that attempt to help us cope with, dodge and reject the forming process that pain invites us into. While not all pain is healthy (self-inflicted pain is usually a sign of ill health unless referring to muscle strengthening exercises), all pain is not meant to paralyze. You may have heard the old adage "no pain, no gain." Creating a movement starts with understanding the invitation that coincides with our pain, rather than running away from it or attempting to numb our pain away. 

3. Courage and strength are the scars of great leadership. It takes great wisdom to learn from and grow as a result of our wounds. Pain does leave a legacy. Wise leaders allow pain to create strength and courage instead of fear and paralysis. Great leaders find a way to face their pain, work through their pain and allow their wound to be a catalyst for creating a movement that leads towards the desired preferred future.

4. It takes time. You've heard the phrase "time heals all wounds." This same practice can be applied to creating movements. It takes time to create a sustainable movement. While we might like to see these things occur overnight, the reality of creating movements is that it often doesn't happen like this. Movements take time to create. Great leaders are willing to live in the tension between a preferred future and current reality for as long as it takes to create the desired movement.

What sort of movements are you hoping to generate?

Created to Connect

There is much to be said about the preoccupation (and perhaps even infatuation) North American culture has had with the concept of individualization. At birth, we begin to be bombarded with limitless forms of communication regarding our formation as an individual. Early on parents of a newborn child help to shape who they understand themselves to be through the clothes they way, the interaction they have, the food they eat and other environmental factors they are exposed to. 

As this child continues to grow and develop, they begin to experiment with different ways of expressing themselves while being taught to develop their individual skill set through education, the arts, apprenticeships, fashion and work experience, among other things. The focal point of the ascension of humanity in the North American bubble is "to be all you can be." And while there is intentional emphasis of individual development, there is shockingly less focus on communal wholeness. Sure we may reference the fact that humans are to develop a social conscience, and learn to manage conflict with others, but there seems to be far less attention paid to the development of an entire communal hub (family or some other connecting point) than there is on individual achievement here in the first world.

I've had the privilege of travelling to a number of different countries outside of North America. What I find refreshing from my experience (other than cuisine), is the communal perspective from which many of these international cultures create rhythm. You may have heard the notion that "it takes a village to raise a child." It's one thing to say something like this and another to see it lived out in a contextual setting. With all the emphasis we North Americans place on individual achievement, I wonder if we unintentionally sacrifice our innate desire to connect with others? Have we defined connection to mean a source of weakness instead of strength?

In no way shape or form am I suggesting that individual people don't matter...quite the contrary. Every individual does matter, and because they matter, they have purpose. Part of this purpose is to connect with others in a communal hub. So if the communal connection is just as important (if not more so in some respects) than the individual connection, how does the way we approach a rhythm for life need to change?

I'd like to suggest three simple ideas that may inspire all of us to create a new sense of rhythm.

1. Lone wolves always die. The concept of a communal hub can also be witnessed within the realm of the animal kingdom. Most living creatures prefer to exist in community (schools of fish, pack of wolves, herd of elephants, etc.). Animals have learned that there is not only safety in numbers but also great strength. A great white shark can fall victim to a pod of dolphins that will mercilessly fend of their predator by bombarding it with a barrage of full speed collisions with their rigid noses. The animals that exist in isolation seem to have a decreased limit to their effectiveness and in many cases their actual lifespan.

When a lion is stalking a herd in search for fresh prey, they spend a significant amount of time observing the community. The lion takes note of how a community responds to a potential threat. As a strategic moment, the lion will race towards the herd at full speed with the intention of creating and instilling fear into its prey. If the herd stays together, it can fend off the attack. If, however, an individual animal gets separated from the community at large...well, let's just say it doesn't end well for them.

If we are created for the purpose of connecting with others, than believing that we can "go at life alone" is not only a lie, it's a death trap. Lone wolves always die. Sure, you might win a battle or two, but in the end you will lose your life, and you will die alone. 

2. When it's all over. We all know that life on earth doesn't last forever. I've had the honor and privilege to walk with many individuals and families as they have walked through the inevitable reality of death. The common thread in each of these individual stories continues to be how they did or did not connect with those whom they loved. No matter how grand their life had been; no matter what they did or acquired, at the end of their life itself, they chose to celebrate their connections with people, not things. 

The only investment that pays true reward is that which we make in the lives of others. Positive or negative, how we connect with people will be the only thing that matters to us when our lives are over. Disagree with me? The next time you are in a public space where multiple generations are present, watch how our elder generations celebrate life. What are they making time for?

3. Connection is strength, not weakness. Imagine for a moment that our world can be represented with individual Lego pieces. Now I happen to really love Lego...it's a fascinating invention. These building blocks can create some incredible masterpieces. But there is still a limit to Lego's creativity. You are unable to create something with just one piece. You might have a really great piece of Lego, but unless it's combined with other pieces it will always be limited in what it can do.

This same principal can be said of us as human beings. Unless we intentionally choose to create connection with others, a communal hub of sorts, we will not be able to achieve our potential in our original design for life. Community isn't an option...it's a necessity. We cannot exist in isolation. Resist the pressure of complete individualization and embrace the idea that connection creates strength, not weakness.

A Story of Belonging

One of my utmost favorite stories just so happens to be captured by the biblical writer of the gospel of Luke. In chapter 15 of this segment of scripture, the story of the lost son unfolds.

A man has two sons, both of whom are entitled to a portion of their father's great wealth as inheritance. The younger of the two sons desires to see and experience the world around him, so he asks his father for his portion of the inheritance. His father grants his request, releasing his younger son to pursue his carnal desires and dreams. This younger son lives it up, exploring life to the full in all of his dreams of what he thought it could be. His thrill ride comes to a crashing halt though, once his resources for maintaining his dream run out. At the end of his rope, this younger son finds himself simply surviving instead of living into the dream of his youth and so decides to reunite with his father for the purpose of returning to where he had once belonged. In his mind, this younger son would be willing to exist as a less than equal bi-partisan of his father's house. Instead of claiming his birthright and full son-ship as he had previously done, the younger son would become a servant in his father's household so that he may not only survive, but once again return to the place where he found true belonging.

As the story continues to unfold, the younger son is embraced by his father upon his return and although he is willing to become like a servant, his father restores his son-ship and celebrates his incumbent return to his place of belonging. The elder son, however, stands against the welcoming return of his younger brother. Although this elder son did not chase after the empty notion in the way his younger brother had, he too wrestles with embracing his place of belonging and rejects the overtures of love from his father because of his inability to rationalize the seemingly unequal demonstration of love from this father and his two sons. The elder son claims that the younger son is loved in a more profound way than himself only because his wayward ways are seemingly overlooked by the welcoming return this father embraces his younger son with. Having lived up and into the expectation of what a "good son would do," this elder son is left hurt, bitter and confused by the loving response of his father towards his younger brother. And as a result the elder brother refrains from entering into the celebration of belonging together with his extended family.

There are three facets of belonging that are stirred up in me as I immerse myself in this biblical story.

We belong because of who we are, not because of what we do. We so often believe the lie that what we do makes us who we are. The truth is that who we are informs what we do. This elder brother struggled with understanding what is meant to be a son to his father. He believed a good son was someone who did all the right things. But it was his younger brother that truly understood what it meant to be a son. A son is someone who knows where he belongs and who he belongs to. Even in the midst of mistakes, our sense of belonging is not severed. In fact, it’s in these darkest of times that we rediscover who we really are and where we really belong. It takes great courage to admit what our needs are, including our desire to belong to someone and to something.

We all need to belong somewhere. We as humans were created for connection. We define ourselves by who we are to others: so and so is my friend, this is my dad, this is my cousin, they are someone I went to school with. This sense of belonging and the need to be connected lies at the core of who we are. We become restless when we don't have a clear understanding of where we belong or who we belong to.

When we belong, we are not only loved, but we are also inspired to live. When we find our place of belonging by answering the question of how we fit in this world, we find that we are not only loved, but we become inspired to live in and out of belonging. We know who we are when we know where we belong. And knowing how we fit gives us the platform from which we are able to build things like reputation, legacy, commitment and endurance.

Because we live in a society that struggles with the concept of long-term commitment, it makes me wonder if we have lost sight of our ability and need to belong. Perhaps if we generate the courage to rediscover how we are connected and why we are connected, we might identify our place of belonging and in turn help others to discover theirs.

We are all living in this unfolding story belonging. Ignoring the reality that we all need to fit somewhere isn't going to help us discover who we are and what we are made for. Find the courage to create connection and rediscover how you belong.

One Proud Papa

Today marks a journey that began for my wife and I almost 9 years ago. 

As a young, soon to be in love couple, we found ourselves serving and caring for orphaned children in Brazil along with several other Canadians. We met some amazing kids, heard some heart wrenching stories, and knew that all of this had inspired us to change the way we looked at life.

Years later, motivated by change and inspired by love, we as a young married couple dared to dream a dream. We dreamt of being able to provide an orphan with a loving and caring family. We didn't know how this dream would shape our lives in the present, nor in the future, but we knew we had to respond to the tugging on our heart to get involved in the life of a child who needed a permanent home.

Four years ago today, our son Cannon was born. Cannon is our second child. He's funny, quiet, strong and polite. He's the kind of big brother I always wish that I had, and the son that I'm blessed to now have. Cannon was born in the state of Florida to a loving mother who hoped he would have more than she by herself could offer. His birth mom made the incredibly loving decision to find a permanent home setting for her son so that he may grow into who he is created to be. Miracles occur in different forms. Sometimes miracles become reality through a series of divinely orchestrated events. Other times, miracles are a collision of God-initiated dreams and human initiated response to His divine challenge. In our case, the story of Cannon is a little bit of both.

Each year we celebrate our son's birthday we are reminded of the greatness of his unfolding story. He's not an accident. His presence in our lives hasn't been left to chance. He exists because He was designed to be who he is: created for a purpose that we can't even fathom. And he is, and continues to be, a huge blessing in our lives.

I'm not certain that we fully understood what sort of impact his life would bring to not only our lives, but also the lives of those around us. Even today as we took some time to celebrate his special day by going swimming as a family, we were provided with an opportunity to share a piece of his story with a complete stranger, letting the inspiration and hope that he brings continue to spread.

Locker room conversations with strangers are always awkward. But there are times when they are unavoidable. As the boys and I were getting re-dressed in our casual street clothes, we happened to run into an elder gentleman who seemed to be fascinated by our presence. We exchanged pleasantries, and then just before he left he asked me a question; "excuse me sir, but would you answer a question just to satisfy my curiosity? How come your sons are two different colors?" I proceeded to tell him that our older son Cannon is adopted and our younger son Deklon is not. My answer seemed to floor him. Normally when we are asked questions about adoption we aren't really certain where the conversation might lead. I've received lectures from complete strangers who didn't feel that a Caucasian family should ever adopt a child of different ethnicity. I've also received great words of kindness, hope and joy by strangers.

In this instance, we received a compliment and encouragement of the highest order. This gentleman expressed his observation to me, "you must be living an inspired life. May God richly bless you for considering what it means to be a father to the fatherless." I thanked him for his kind words, and proceeded to finish re-dressing my two sons. I was left speechless (a feat for those who know me well). While we knew that Cannon's story would have an impact on the way we live, I couldn't begin to fathom how his life and story will continue to have an impact both in the present and the future. To be able to converse with strangers about things that truly matter in life is a gift. And as the hope, love and generosity we embody as a family continues to grow, I hope and pray that my proudness as a father will provide many more opportunities to inspire others to grow into who they've been created to be.

Stories are powerful; they can unite, they can divide and they can inspire. Every human being has a story to tell. Perhaps if we spent more time listening to the stories of others and less time trying to re-write or enhance our own stories the world in which we live may actually change for the better. Live the story you are writing and find the courage to interact with and listen to the stories of others.

The Life of a Nomad

There is so much emphasis placed on the destination portion of a journey. When we book a flight, our end goal is where we are heading, but not necessarily how we are getting there. Most flights end up needing a layover of some kind, meaning that we end up spending a significant amount of time in a different place than where we would rather be.

I'm starting to think if the same can be said about life in general.

All of us have goals...things we'd like to accomplish during our existence. Some of our goals may be very noble, while others might pretty much be self-seeking. Regardless of where the orientation or motivation for our goals lie, what is certain is that we have become fascinated with where we are going, and less enchanted with how we might get there.

The stories contained in the Bible fascinate me. I find great meaning, truth and hope in reading through the journey of others. In particular, I find myself becoming captivated by the unfolding story of the nation of Israel, which is a prominent plot line for this sacred text.

The nation of Israel were said to be God's chosen people...set apart from the rest of humankind for a specific purpose and reason. These people were invited to embark upon a God-initiated, God-directed, God-envisioned journey. Their journey began with a man known as Abram (later on in the story changing his name to Abraham), who was invited by God to embark upon an adventure...leaving his home is search of something greater than He could ever imagine. The story continues with Abram's descendants, Jacob, Joseph, and others, with each of these characters playing a key role in the unfolding story of their emerging nation. In Moses, we find a character that is charged with the task of leading this nation of Israel into a long ago promised land. As a people, the culmination of generations worth of hope was coming to fruition as this new nation stood to gain from the promise of their Creator and Guide. Yet I have begun to wonder if the apex in the story, the aforementioned Promised Land, is simply a link in the chain of adventure rather than a destination that defines success.

When we reach a goal, have we finally arrived, or have we come to the emerging conclusions that many more goals lie ahead on the horizon? The future is always in motion, but the past has now become static. Perhaps life is more about motion than it is about destination. The moment we feel like we have finally arrived may be the moment where we recognize that the journey has just begun.