I have spent my life asking questions. In mentoring I always work to find the key question. Here are two that I have meant a lot to me in my development.
Does my will control my feelings?
Integrity is more a matter of the will than of feelings. Certainly feelings are important, for without feelings we become mechanical. We are not able to connect with others or to feel empathy or compassion. Feelings energize us. They are great implementers but poor leaders. Our will must control our feelings.
Our will is the single most distinguishing feature of our character. I was fortunate to have a mother with an indomitable will. In spite of many physical disabilities, she persevered, often quoting Galatians 6:9: "Be not weary in well doing, for in due season you shall reap if you faint not." It was from her that we chose as a family motto that little phrase inspired by Rudyard Kipling's "If": "When nothing but your will says go."
I still remember my mother being so sick that she had to put ladder-back chairs around the kitchen so she could fall from one chair to the other while she prepared meals for her family. She was indomitable, the unsinkable Molly Brown. I profited a great deal from her example; I went through twelve years of public school without missing a day. I was never encouraged to "take it easy."
Leadership demands a strong will—not a selfish or stubborn will, but a determined will to do what needs doing. By will we overcome our yen for pleasure and our satisfaction with mediocrity. Our Catholic friends believe in "substitutionary grace," in which the priest earns grace for the flock. I won't argue this theological point, but I will content that there is substitutionary will, which the leader must give to those in the organization who lack will. A strong will does not blind us to the importance of emotion. It does, however, wring out the rationalization and procrastination that attack us.
Our will, not our feelings, must be charged with the ultimate responsibility for our actions.
Is grace real for me?
Grace was genuine, real, personal, and palpable to the great saints. Brother Lawrence, Frank Laubach, Francois Fenelon—these Christian mystics had no doubt they were the constant recipients of God's amazing grace. Grace was a practical part of their everyday life. For example, Brother Lawrence said that when he made a mistake he didn't spend any time thinking about it; he just confessed it and moved on. He reminded God that without him, to fall is natural. Before I read that, I lingered over guilt. Immediate grace was too good to be true. Brother Lawrence's experience greatly released me.
Nevertheless, legalism appeals to our common sense. I find it necessary to remind myself that the very Scripture that makes me know my guilt lets me know God's grace. By refusing grace, we play God and punish ourselves. We view events as punishment. We redefine discipline. In reality it isn't discipline, but just the natural consequences. We inject our own reading of it as God's judgment.
Why? Because we feel we deserve judgment rather than grace. Grace brings freedom. If only we could accept grace fully, then we, like Brother Lawrence, could have the freedom to admit failure and move on. Since grace cannot be deserved, why should I feel others are more worthy of it than I? Why can't I see the free gift that it is and see how available it is? In my experience those who understand and appreciate grace the deepest are those who have seen its greatest power. "He who is forgiven most, loves most."
