Secret Discovery on the Leader's Desk

My desire to linger kept me fixed in place. When the tour group moved on, I unobtrusively remained behind.

My desire to linger kept me fixed in place. When the tour group moved on, I unobtrusively remained behind. Sunshine poured through the second-floor windows, and sand cranes gracefully strolled on the grounds below. An individual’s workspace intrigues me, and I wanted to capture this rare moment.

Standing in the modest corner office of Dr. Bill Bright, president, and founder of Campus Crusade for Christ, a sense of awe gripped me as I studied my surroundings. The painting of George Washington kneeling in prayer hung over his desk (The Prayer at Valley Forge by Arnold Friberg). A spear from the jungle tribe in Ecuador, the tribe responsible for the massacre of Jim Elliot and four other missionaries, stood propped up in the corner. Photos of his beloved family rested on a tabletop. And, of course, there was a globe reminding me that his commitment to helping to fulfill the Great Commission passionately fueled his every waking breath.

Then, it caught my eye.

A small glass paperweight rested inconspicuously on his desktop and contained a simple five-word inscription: I am not a grasshopper. Over and again, I read the sentence and allowed its impact to sink in.

“I am not a grasshopper.”

— Dr. Bill Bright

The explosive power of the meaning shattered the silence as I slowly gained a powerful awareness of the heart and soul of this extraordinary global leader. Oh, my. With his entire being grounded in the truth of his identity in Christ, Dr. Bright’s faith-filled perspective enabled him to endure leadership storms beyond comprehension and progressively march toward becoming all that God created him to be.

One’s self-perspective sets the trajectory of one’s life. For Bill Bright, he humbly saw himself immersed in Christ. Like Joshua and Caleb—the only two spies who viewed God’s promised land through eyes of faith—Bill Bright viewed himself through his relationship with Jesus, and he lived emboldened with a holy boldness beyond human belief. (Numbers 13:33 NLV).

Had Dr. Bright been sitting in the leather chair in the corner, I would have engaged him in conversation regarding the paperweight’s message:

How did you make this discovery? Was it your own insight from Scripture, or did you first learn this truth from someone else, perhaps Dr. Henrietta Mears?

What difference has this reality made in your leadership of a global organization?

Describe how such Biblical self-awareness kept you from ever being self-seeking.

How has this humility influenced your relationships?

Do you have a word to offer a generation struggling to find identity amid a culture in crisis?

Soon, too soon, I had to leave the office and rejoin my group. But the quiet visit stays with me, and the five-word sentence serves as a goldmine: I am not a grasshopper. When I view myself through the eyes of faith, I see myself as the woman God created me to be—His daughter, His delight.

Living With Eternal Intentionality®

Intimacy with Jesus

Authenticity with others

A passion for your calling

A purpose for your influence

What mementos on your desk reflect your perspective on life?

Do you see yourself as God sees you, or is this an area for personal growth?

How do these words, I am not a grasshopper, challenge you to see yourself as God sees you?

Getting There

Guest post by Vivian Hyatt

“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?” “That depends a good deal on where you want to get to.” i

Note to self: Things happen when Husband is traveling that do not happen when he’s home.

It is a maxim I developed long ago based on recurring experiences. I had temporarily forgotten it.

At a particularly ill-timed moment, I was about to get a refresher course.

Trent had flown off to Rome, Italy. A few days after he left, I realized I was no longer hearing the frequent gurgling of the sump pump in the basement. The sump pump is a standard requirement in certain parts of the country where rainfall is plentiful. Houses with basements need the pump to keep the basement dry. The pump sits in a pit, called a sump, and pumps out the ground water which continually accumulates. My half-conscious self had been acutely listening because Trent had worked on the pump hose before he left—and fixed it, he said.

Nevertheless, I went down to check.

During his trip, I was slated to drive myself to a writers’ conference in northwest Pennsylvania. I live in southwest Ohio. This was now two days before I was to leave. If I had not gone down, I could have avoided a multiplicity of ensuing problems that he would have taken care of once he returned. I could have driven away in blissful ignorance of what was happening in the basement.

Note to self: Avoidance of a potential emergency is probably not a viable option.

So. (Pregnant pause.) I went down to check.

Anyone familiar with such a situation will immediately realize that, without the pump operating properly, water will have flooded the basement.

It had.

I went back upstairs and googled “Sump pump not working.” To get it working, I read that I needed to pull the float and the pump up out of the water and restart the motor. The float needed to rest on top of the water. I had no idea how to do that, so I called my brother. I followed his instructions: pull up the pump, press the re-start button, put it back down into the deep, overflowing pit. It started! Water began slowly draining out of the hole.

Half an hour later, it stopped again. I went down, pulled it back out. Called my brother. Suddenly, he said, “You did unplug it first?” Well, no, that didn’t occur to me. I gathered from his reaction that I might have been electrocuted. “Unplug it—then pull it out, plug it back up, start it, then lower it back in the hole without touching the water!” Of course, I was already standing in water over my ankles, but I’d had the presence of mind to put on rubber boots. I followed his instructions, and it started.

Whew.

It was a short-lived “whew.”

Trent called from Rome and heard my story. “Do you have hot water?”

I checked—no hot water. The pilot light for the hot water heater had gone out, due to the water which had flooded the basement. Now I needed to re-start the pilot light. He walked me through the steps and told me there were also instructions on the heater itself. Back down to the soggy basement, following instructions: Turn off pilot. Wait ten minutes to clear out remaining gas. Turn on pilot and click on the re-start button. No luck. Tried again, waited ten minutes. Repeated this action three times—do the math to calculate how much time I was spending.

At this point, the instructions on the heater, after a third failed attempt, were: Call a professional. I called my brother. His water heater was electric. “Call the gas company.”

I called the gas company. “We don’t come out for pilot lights. Call a plumber.”

It was too late to call the plumber that day. I called as early as possible the next morning and pleaded for mercy. I didn’t exactly wail, but he may have interpreted it that way. He came out within a few hours and was worth his weight in gold. So was his price. But by the end of that day, I had hot water and a new sump pump.

The morning dawned for my trip to Pennsylvania.

It was only to take me six hours or so, going by state routes, as I wanted to avoid the interstates.

I hope you noticed “or so.”

If you knew me well, you would know that I do not like driving. I drive where necessary, such as the grocery store. I drive only places I know how to get to. I was not born with a sense of direction—and I tend to turn the opposite direction in any given situation where directions are involved, including out a hotel room door.

You may be wondering why I was doing this.

Needing to calm myself that morning, after the two days just described and before a trip I was more or less dreading, I sat down at the kitchen table with a book of daily readings I’ve been using for that purpose for at least thirty years. Yet, I never recalled seeing the heading of that morning’s reading:

“DON’T THINK NOW, TAKE THE ROAD!” ii

I laughed out loud.

It was real laughter from my personal sump pump of pent-up emotions.

Even without reading the paragraphs that followed—which, of course, I did—I immediately recognized it as a message specifically for me and specifically for that day.

Who knew?

Who, indeed. Someone who knows me better than I know myself and knows my circumstances intimately. iii

It was with a much calmer sense—and joyful amusement—that I loaded the car, put the address in my GPS, and started off. But with every familiar mile, I was already looking forward to getting home again.

“I had to drive through miles of twisty, forested road, knowing I was going the opposite direction but helpless to turn around. Then a driving rainstorm broke loose so heavily that my windshield wipers could not go fast enough.

”

— Vivian Hyatt

The rest of the story of that trip would take longer than you have to read it. Suffice it to say that the GPS quit talking to me for some mysterious reason, so I had to keep referring to it as it lay in my lap, a very bad idea. My cell phone lost charge, and I could not use it while it was plugged up to the USB port. At some point deep in northeast Ohio, not far from the Pennsylvania border, I realized I was going very fast—southwest. I had to drive through miles of twisty, forested road, knowing I was going the opposite direction but helpless to turn around. Then a driving rainstorm broke loose so heavily that my windshield wipers could not go fast enough.

All of my self-help devices had let me down.

I told myself this was my worst-case-scenario—when I realized that, of course, it wasn’t. That thought prompted me to be thankful. The morning’s affirming reading kept coming to mind. I could go on.

Finally, at the first sign of civilization, I stopped at a gas station. I said to the attendant behind the counter, “I appear to be lost.” I gave him my map, and he got out his phone. I said, “You find my route while I go to the restroom.” He did and set me straight.

The trip took me not six, but twelve hours.

I walked in late to the first meeting, facing a tiered university lecture-roomful of writers, authors, editors, and agents. But I was there.

After the meeting, I went to my room, plugged in my phone, and called my husband in Rome. It was 3 AM in Italy, and he was frantic. He had tried to call me multiple times. He had also called our daughters, but they, of course, had not heard from me either, my phone being out of charge. Then I did call my daughter who, before I had a chance to speak, blurted out frantically, “Have you called Dad??!!”

But I was there. I could put off thinking about the return trip for a few days.

Whew.

It was such a fun, informative, relational, and successful conference that I would do it again. I won some writing prizes. I got to talk to an agent. I made some new friends.

The return trip was uneventful: three hours to my nieces in northern Ohio for a couple of welcome days after the conference, three hours home. I practically kissed the familiar roads. An hour after arriving, I picked Trent up from the airport.

Note to self: Next time Husband leaves home, remember that the maxim is still in force. Remember, too, that even if your self-help devices fail, you have other help that really matters.

Whew.

i Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland, conversation between Alice and the Cheshire Cat

ii Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest

iii Psalm 139, the Bible

Enjoy more of Vivian’s writings at The Swings of Contentment, Vivianhyatt.com

Vivian and her husband, Trent, served with Cru in Eastern Europe and Russia for 39 years. They now live in Dayton, Ohio, and go back to Eastern Europe twice a year to teach in the Institute of Biblical Studies and to mentor missionary leaders. When she’s not on airplanes, Vivian enjoys gardening, reading books to Trent while he washes the dinner dishes, skyping with her four grandchildren who live in Germany, as well as her five children who live in two countries outside the US and two states. She must read, and she must write. Best of all, she loves sharing life with Trent. To enjoy more of Vivian’s Reflections, go to

Brutally Honest Attitude Tips

The difference-maker in a day, in a group, in a situation, or in an outcome may well rest within the simple word A.T.T.I.T.U.D.E.

Wow! You have such a great attitude!

What on earth is wrong with your attitude?

Do you realize that your attitude is affecting the whole carpool?!

I wish I had your attitude.

His talent is great, but his attitude is horrible.

These statements and others like them flow in and out of our conversations. But what inherent meaning do they carry?

The difference-maker in a day, in a group, in a situation, or in an outcome is often held within the simple word attitude. But we seldom give it the deference it deserves, yet, its impact is astounding—harnessed or harmful—as it sets the tone and alters a direction.

Attitude speaks a language of its own. My observations reflected in the comments below sweep across multiple countries and a variety of cultures.

Brutally Honest Attitude Tips

90% of life is attitude; the other 10% is perspective.

No one will ever manage your attitude for you. It is yours, all yours.

Control is a myth; controlling your attitude is not.

Your attitude toward your own importance speaks volumes. You are not the center of the universe.

God will always allow a difficult person to be in your life. If you do not have a difficult person in your life, most likely you are the difficult person in someone else’s life. How does this affect your attitude?

Your best contribution to any group dynamic is your attitude.

The way you feel is important; the way you make other people feel is radically more important.

Living With Eternal Intentionality®

Intimacy with Jesus

Authenticity with others

A passion for your calling

A purpose for your influence

The Bible certainly sheds light on this topic. How do these two verses broaden the significance of attitude?

“Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it” (Proverbs 4:23).

“For the word of God is alive and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart” (Hebrews 4:12).