Reluctant Leadership
March 15, 2016
Years ago I was asked my opinion about who should become the president of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. My response was that it should be no person who is seeking the job. It was and remains my belief that, in ministry, the person should not seek the job; the job should seek the person.
I think this should also apply to the presidency of the United States.
It’s only mid-March, and I’m already sick and tired of campaign rhetoric and the ridiculously low behavior of candidates for what’s supposed to be our nation’s highest office.
I am looking for humility; and I think, perhaps, that any person who seeks the presidency probably lacks the humility to be the person we need in that office.
I want both a freer and fairer society, led by humble servants within public and private institutions. I want servant-leaders with character more than charisma.
I want a society where individuals with drive and discipline take responsibility for making things better at home and in their neighborhoods, communities and states. And where one of these unsuspecting persons, with lots of grit but little guile, gets drafted to lead our country, and very reluctantly accepts.
Ali
July 8, 2016
My wife has never held famous athletes and coaches in very high regard. Much of this has to do with her disdain for misplaced priorities – so much attention and extravagant spending devoted to entertainment and sports when so much of the world’s population is without most basic essentials of life.
Because of my work, my wife occasionally has been in the company of some of the biggest names in American sports; but only one clenched her in rapt attention. It was Muhammad Ali.
We were attending a banquet at which Ali was honored. We sat at adjacent tables, with the back of my wife’s chair almost touching the back of the chair to which Ali was being ushered, slowly because of his disease.
We all stood as Ali entered. My wife’s eyes were on Ali; my eyes were on my wife, for I had never seen her give respect to a sports personality in this manner.
After the banquet, and at times since then, and certainly again after his death June 3, my wife and I have talked about what it is in Ali that she hasn’t seen in other prominent sports figures.
We noted that he brought elegance to a brutal sport, and charm to boastfulness. We cited the twinkle in his eye that outlasted his diseased body.
We recalled the tolerance and dignity he brought to his faith, and how he demonstrated his faith commitment at the most inconvenient time in his career.
We recalled his poetry when he was young and talked too much, and his use of magic to communicate after disease stole his words, as he did that night we were with him.
Years after that banquet, when Ali lit the Olympic flame at the 1996 Olympics, my wife cried. She had tears in her eyes again when that moment was replayed on the day after Ali’s death.
Ali ascended to worldwide fame in a different era – when professional media tended to be enablers more than investigative journalists, and before social media pushed every personal weakness around the planet overnight. It’s possible Ali would not have been as loved if he had emerged in public life today. It’s also possible he would have been even more beloved.