The Parable of the Lilac Bush

When we moved into our home, I planted a lilac bush in our backyard so that my wife would be able to enjoy its blossoms from the kitchen window. I was delighted by how quickly the bushes shot up. But year after year, the lilac bush produced no blossoms at all. After about five years, I gave up, assuming that the bush was a dud (or maybe it was the guy who planted it).

Suddenly, a few years ago, the bush produced a huge profusion of blossoms. We were delighted by their beauty and the fragrance that filled our backyard. And the bush has blossomed faithfully ever since. It wasn’t until wintertime, though, that I realized what had happened.

When I looked at the bare lilac branches, I realized that they were all crooked. They had all s-t-r-e-t-c-h-e-d crazily to one side. That’s when it dawned on me (yes, I’m not a brilliant gardener) that I had planted the bush in the shade of another tree, and it had taken the bush years of arduous stretching to reach enough sunlight to blossom. I have a great respect for that diligent sun-seeking plant that succeeded despite my ineptitude.

Prof. Kim Cameron, who is an Associate Dean at the University of Michigan’s Ross School of Business, teaches frequently about what he calls the “heliotropic” nature of living organisms. Heliotropic means “oriented toward the sun.” Virtually all life forms – flora and fauna – display an innate striving toward light, or other sources of life. Just like my lilac bush, they stretch mightily to bask in life-giving influence.

It strikes me that we human beings are about the only organisms who occasionally choose darkness and depletion intentionally!

Clearly, there are strong spiritual lessons to be learned from heliotropism. I have personally found that I “blossom” and thrive when I strive toward the light of God. But I also find great parallels to the lesson of the lilac bush in my professional life. How often do I shun opportunities to strive for excellence? For service? The greatest thriving we experience in our careers – and the greatest (and sometimes very uncomfortable) stretching – only happens when we reach toward the light that emanates from inspiration, from passion, from engagement, from devotion, from serving a noble cause.

When work starts to feel like a confined, dark space, try reflecting on my lilac bush. Instead of retreating to the shadows of mundaneness, bureaucracy, or self-absorption, think about how you can s-t-r-e-t-c-h toward something luminous and life-giving at work. You’ll probably find it most quickly by thinking about how you can serve others. 

To find your calling, forget about passion! (huh?)

So this post wins for the most counter-intuitive title. I named it in honor of a fascinating little Harvard Business School blog post entitled "To Find Happiness, Forget About Passion" by Oliver Segovia. You can read it here.

When I first saw that title, I thought "oh, this is wrong!" But Segovia actually gets it absolutely right. His point (and you should read it for yourself) is that the world indoctrinates us to just follow our dreams, but then we sometimes find out that our dreams don't make us any money, or even get us a job (think of the starving artist syndrome).

Segovia argues that the key to happiness isn't prioritizing your own dreams, but rather finding a need that you can fill. Basically, he says we're getting it backwards when we put passion before service. That turns out to be a hollow passion. If, however, we put our passion INTO service... well, that's sustainable passion, and a recipe for professional happiness.

This argument is actually a page straight out of the Protestant Reformation. John Calvin taught that you find your calling in life by discovering your gifts and talents (he might have used the word "passion" if he was writing today), and then by identifying where they are needed. My favorite Calvin quote is this: “For as God bestows any ability or gift upon any of us, he binds us to such as have need of us and as we are able to help.” (Sermons of M. John Calvin upon the Epistle of Saint Paul to the Galatians, 1574; p. 307). 


I love the notion of our talents "binding" us to other people. Having a passion is actually a responsibility -- an obligation to give your best to the world. As we rush off to pursue our dreams, let's stop first and give some good hard thought to who needs them. You are much more likely to make a living if you do. 

How to Work Beautifully

I mentioned in my last post that I have been studying voice lately to stretch myself. My amazing voice teacher, Kathryn Little, said something in a lesson a couple of weeks ago that rang all kinds of bells for me (she's full of wisdom). It's a principle that I believe has everything to do with finding meaning in our work.

Kathryn has been trying to convince me that my voice has natural beauty. I've found that tough to swallow. But a couple of weeks ago, in the middle of some soft legato exercises, she stopped me and said the following (reproduced verbatim from my recording of the session):

"OK, here's something to think about, because I know that this whole idea of your voice being beautiful is foreign to you and kind of embarrasses you a little bit... Um, instead of thinking about your voice, think about what your voice is doing to someone. If you could hug someone with your voice, if you could envelop someone with warmth and love, instead of 'oh, it's about my voice.' To give. To give to somebody else. Does that make sense?" 

It did. And when I started thinking about singing to express love for someone, the energy changed, the focus changed, and things flowed much more naturally. Maybe even a little bit - dare I say it? - beautifully.

There is a powerful principle here! I've discovered it with my teaching as well. When I walk into the classroom thinking "how can I get my students to like me today?," I'm never at my best. Instead, I've found that the recipe for success is to walk into the classroom thinking "how can I love my students today? What can I give?" I'm so much more effective on those days. And I'm a lot happier too. 

It's ironic. Finding meaning at work means forgetting about seeking it for yourself. Meaning comes as a by-product of serving others. And of course, that principle is true in every aspect of life, not just work. 

The Second Great Fear (Part 2)

Tomorrow night, I will be singing a solo at the departmental talent show. This is a very big step for me. And it all came about because a book changed my life.

First off, I have always yearned to be a great singer. But my singing voice was rough, a little gravelly, unsteady, and too loud. I was so self-conscious of how I sounded that I shied away from opportunities to sing. I was sure that people would secretly laugh at me, like one of those American Idol wannabes who are deluded about their "talent." And so I kind of gave up on it.

Then I read a popular press book written by a brilliant psychologist, Prof. Carol Dweck. It's called "Mindset: The New Psychology of Success."

Buy it. Now.

Prof. Dweck's decades of research revealed a basic human difference that reliably predicts a vast array of life outcomes. Beginning with her study of childrens' learning processes, she found that kids fall pretty neatly into two categories:

Fixed Mindset: a belief that one's intelligence, talents, and abilities are stable and unchanging
Growth Mindset: a belief that intelligence, talents, and abilities can change through effort

Pretty simple, right? But it turns out that this simple distinction makes a world of difference in how children - and adults - think, behave, and perform. As a small sample: In her studies, kids with a fixed mindset tended to choose simple puzzles rather than difficult ones, even if they were praised for their abilities. Meanwhile, kids with a growth mindset tackled more difficult puzzles with relish, even if they were told they might not be able to solve them.

Other insights:

- People with a growth mindset are more likely to seek new knowledge, while those with a fixed mindset stick to what they know
- People with a growth mindset seek out feedback, while those with a fixed mindset avoid it
- People with a growth mindset increase their effort after a failure, while those with a fixed mindset reduce effort
- People with a growth mindset compare themselves to more talented people to assess their progress, while those with a fixed mindset compare themselves to less talented people

And here's the clincher: People with a fixed mindset actually shun practicing their skills. Why? Because if you have talent you shouldn't need to practice! With a fixed mindset, hard work is perceived as evidence that your talent is in question. Prof. Dweck provides numerous examples of outrageously talented athletes, artists, etc., who plateaued in their progress because they stopped working hard -- not because of hubris, but because of fear that if others saw them practice, they might be "found out" for not being as talented as expected. And then, of course, are all of the "Rudy"-like stories of people who, armed with a growth mindset, worked their tails off to achieve outrageous success even though they lacked natural talent.

The best part of the book is that mindset turns out to be a choice. Dweck shows how you can alter your approach to the learning process by practicing a growth mindset. Having taken her challenge seriously, I can report that the effort has made a difference in my teaching, my parenting, and my overall zest for life.

Oh, and my singing! After preaching this material to my students, I realized that the only thing standing between me and my love of song was a fixed mindset. I timidly made an appointment with a voice teacher. The first thing I said was: "I really don't have a very good voice. I hope this is worth your time." She waved her hand dismissively and said, "Nonsense! Anybody can learn to sing. Let's get to work."

Growth mindset! Right there at lesson one.

So, what does this have to do with calling? In my last post, I showed how fear of success can stand in the way of realizing your gifts. Fixed mindset is the source of the second great fear. It's not really the fear of failure. It's the fear of being judged by others. If you are going to pursue a calling, and really excel at it, you will have to shed your fear of feedback, and consider it your friend. You have to forget about being perfect to impress other people, and instead embrace the possibility of failure as an opportunity for learning and growth. You have to care more about learning than about performing.

Vocal performance is not my calling in life. But the funny thing is that as I've gradually overcome the fear of being judged for my singing, I've felt liberated in other ways as well. I'm a little more accepting of myself as a teacher and scholar, a little more willing to stumble for the sake of improvement. It truly is a new worldview that makes it much easier for me to see my work as a calling and to excel in it.

Growth mindset. Try it on for size!

Two Fears that Keep Us from Our Professional Callings (Part 1)

I had a fascinating conversation with one of my students the other day. We’ll call him Marcus (not his real name). His experience highlights one of two major fears that I believe prevent us from finding and pursuing our calling in life. 

Marcus is an imposing figure. A former collegiate athlete, he is large, confident, and passionate. From past conversations, I knew that he had overcome a great deal to get into college, including a violence-filled adolescence. Today, though, he practically oozes natural leadership...

…which is why I had been a little puzzled that Marcus often seemed to hold back in class, and to adopt a somewhat passive role on his team. My questions were answered, though, when he came to speak to me in my office. As near as I can reconstruct, this is what he said:

“I have realized that, with my large stature and my loud voice, I can easily dominate other people. I don’t want to be the kind of person that dictates out of force. So I’ve really been trying to stay more in the background with my team.”

I had two reactions to that comment: 

1) This guy is remarkably sensitive. I really admire that.

2) What a waste of a natural gift!

I commended Marcus warmly for his maturity in recognizing the dangers of forcing his will on others, and we talked about how challenging it was for him to overcome the aggression of his younger years. 

But then I said, “Your stature and your voice are great assets, Marcus. What a shame not to use them to serve other people.”

Marcus seemed a little surprised by that comment. I then shared with him a wonderful quote. It’s often misattributed to Nelson Mandela, who used it in a speech. The original author is Marianne Williamson. You may have read it before, but it merits frequent pondering:

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, 'Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous?' Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We are all meant to shine, as children do. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

I have to admit that I didn’t really understand that quote for some time. But then I started reflecting on the many ways I have chosen to fade into the background, to worry about others’ perception of my talents, to pass up a chance to speak out about something when I knew I should have. There are dozens of ways that we can “play small.” And we sometimes feel that modesty requires us to suppress our talents. Jesus' words for that were "hiding our light under a bushel."

Marcus has figured out that his gift for influence is dangerous if he uses it self-servingly. Now he has to discover that it will be glorious when he uses it to serve others. I think that’s true of virtually any of the thousands of human talents we might be blessed with.

So, which of your gifts are you suppressing so that others won’t feel awkward around you? Do you fear your own innate greatness? I don’t believe you will discover your professional calling until you allow yourself to “shine, as children do.” And, as Williamson pointed out, when we shine with a spirit of giving, we don’t overshadow other people. We “unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.”

Stay tuned for my thoughts on the second fear!

What it feels like to RECEIVE a great work

A few months back (in one of my favorite posts), I talked about an artist friend who taught me something very valuable about finding your calling in life. You can revisit that post here. Yesterday, as a Christmas present, I surprised my wife with a painting that I commissioned from this artist, the incredibly talented Santiago Michalek (you can check out his blog here).

The piece that he did for us is already a family treasure. I had him paint my son, Spencer, in Ghana. I took Spencer there with me on a university trip a couple of years ago, and he completed his Eagle Scout project there by delivering donated soccer balls to schools and orphanages. That trip was extremely meaningful to me because of the unique memories I made with my son. I wanted to capture them, and knew that Santiago was the artist to do it. Here's a photo of the completed piece, which is about 24X30 inches, and far more stunning than this photo can capture.

The process of working with Santiago as he produced the painting was far more emotional than I could have imagined. As we discussed the painting, we explored what my son means to me, what the experience meant to us, and my motives for commissioning the work. Far beyond just painting a beautiful picture, Santiago delved deeply into my emotions, and also into my son's while Spencer was modeling for him. Santiago poured hours of work into ensuring that he captured not only Spencer's likeness, but also his character. The result is a representation that is true physically, but also emotionally. When my wife and I look at this piece, we see our son's spirit looking back at us.

I can't begin to understand how Santiago accomplishes this. But I know now that he brings far more than just his craft to his work. His tenacious commitment to creating a "true" image represented a huge sacrifice for him during a busy Christmas season. He taught me that having a professional calling goes far beyond talent and effort. There is a spiritual dimension to having a calling. As the recipient, it feels like a personal offering that includes a heavy dose of heart, along with the more obvious involvement of hand and mind.

I am deeply grateful to be the beneficiary of one who lives his calling! Though I'm no artist, I hope to bring the same devotion to the work I do.

Do you have what it takes to find a professional calling?: Lessons from zookeepers and shepherds

When Stuart and I were studying zookeepers’ sense of calling, one thing they told us really struck me. We had a standard interview question: “What would be grounds for divorce from the zoo?” Most zookeepers answered something like, “There is nothing that would cause me to leave this place.” That was a new kind of response for us organizational researchers!

So we started following up by asking: “What if the zoo started neglecting or mistreating the animals? Would that cause you to leave?” The responses to that question stunned me. Here’s one typical answer: “If there was any gross misconduct or animal mistreatment or anything like that, I wouldn’t… leave the zoo because of that. In fact it would make me try and work harder to solve the problem.”

For zookeepers, animals are not their job, but their stewardship. Even if the zoo was grossly negligent, they would stay in their jobs because it is up to them to protect their animals. I don’t think we can really understand what it means to have a calling until we understand stewardship.

I’ve been thinking lately about the difference between shepherds and “hirelings,” as described in the Bible. Ancient shepherds were devoted to each of their individual sheep, even if there were hundreds in the flock. A good shepherd gave each sheep a name, and cared for it so lovingly that it would come immediately when called. The tenderness of that relationship is one of the reasons that Jesus was called the Good Shepherd to His followers. 

But then you have the hireling, which Job describes as a sheepherder that “looketh for the reward of his work” (Job 7:2). In other words, hirelings are in it for the money. They wouldn’t bother to form an intimate relationship with the flock. Instead of beckoning sheep by name, they would rely on their dogs to nip at the heels of the sheep to keep them moving. 

And what happens when the chips are down? Jesus described the hireling’s response to a wolf attack on the herd: “But he that is an hireling, and not the shepherd, whose own the sheep are not, seeth the wolf coming, and leaveth the sheep, and fleeth: and the wolf catcheth them, and scattereth the sheep. The hireling fleeth, because he is an hireling, and careth not for the sheep” (John 10:12-14).

Maybe one of the reasons a lot of people feel stymied in their quest for a personal calling is that they aren’t prepared to make the sort of sacrifice and commitment that only a shepherd can understand. Do we see our work as a stewardship – as a "flock" to be lovingly tended? Are we willing to stand up and fight for our stewardship, even at personal peril? Are we willing to forego comfort, convenience, and convention to invest what it takes to be a shepherd?

Callings don’t come cheap! And you don’t get to experience the transcendent fulfillment of the zookeeper or the shepherd until you are ready to give almost everything for your stewardship.