The Burden of Leadership: The Art of Maintaining Your Crown


“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” (Paraphrased from Shakespeare’s play Henry IV, Part 2: “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”)

I’ve been silent for almost a year because the last two blogs, while I hope were helpful to some, took a great deal out of me in their retelling.

I now feel that I’m ready to cultivate some old ground in a new way as a result of my experiences over the past five years in a C-Suite leadership position.

I distinctly remember the day I was offered the job of leading one of the largest organizations of its type in my state; I knew that I had very limited experience as a president and chief executive officer, but had every confidence that this was a “God assignment” for me at this point in my career. I described it at the time by saying that, I felt like I was in the deep end of a pool; I didn’t know how deep the water, but I knew how to swim!

My initial reaction was fear and self doubt: could I really handle an organization of this size knowing that the budget was over $40 million and that more than 400 people would depend on my leadership of an organization in turmoil due to my predecessor’s imprisonment, as well as funders’ questioning whether the organization was still viable? Could I build a team of leaders to support the monumental work that had to be done to transform an organizational culture that had become stagnant? Could I cast a vision that clearly articulated who we are as an organization and what we aspire to be in service to our staff, customers, and our community? Could I help our staff eliminate the silos that had been constructed with heavy duty concrete and reinforced by departmental prejudices and unhealthy competition? And, finally, could I help the organization become one of learning and innovation rather than one that primarily sought to simply keep what it had rather than risk more to serve better?

The answers to these questions could not be found in my past because I didn’t have a frame of reference for the enormity of the problems or the experience of leading an organization of this type or magnitude. What I did have, and what I depended totally on, was my belief that I was sent to the organization by God to do my part in its restoration. I’ve written in past blogs about having “Esther moments” that are biblicaly described as being prepared “for such a time as this” (Esther 4:14).

I’ve also recounted in other blogs how difficult this particular journey has been due to unforeseen obstacles like external threats and threats from “friends” who meant to kill me professionally. Those attacks were the most difficult, but God reminded me that, “…the time will come when people will kill you and think they are doing God a favor” (John 16:2 CEV).

Each attack was an opportunity to walk in grace with God. In fact, God gave me the imagery that I had a crown on my head to remind me that it matters how I walk through my trials, being confident that I am not alone — He’s with me. So, whenever I enter an unfamiliar or potentially hostile environment, I put my imaginary crown on my head and act as if nothing can penetrate the protection that God gives me simply because I belong to and trust in Him.

I have to admit that I’ve become fixated on this notion of a crown, so much so that I have purchased items and placed them around me as reminders. Like one recent poster acquisition: “On my darkest days when I feel inadequate, unloved and unworthy, I remember whose daughter I am and I straighten my crown.” Or another poster that says, “Be a Pineapple: Stand Tall, Wear a Crown and Be Sweet.” Or, finally the crown charm that I’ve placed on my bracelet that I view throughout my day. These visuals remind me that, leadership is very much like wearing a crown: your subjects (i.e., your staff and your customers) and your benefactors (i.e., your funders, sponsors and superiors) are looking to you to lead and to do it well.

Unfortunately, a skewed or unpolished crown is often the first head gear you receive when you are new to leadership. However, over time and with experiences — challenges, failures and triumphs — your crown becomes more fixed on your head and it acquires a shine that is difficult to ignore. Changes in your crown may be noted in: (1) your posture (how you stand), (2) your voice (how and what you say), and (3) your perspective, which broadens to encompass the multiple roles leadership requires such as caretaker, cheerleader, taskmaster, motivator, and the list goes on. In the case of the Chief Executive Officer (CEO), add the roles of Commander-in-Chief, visionary, advocate, bookkeeper and “rainmaker” (lead fundraiser) among others.

Finally, I’ve learned that, while the crown of leadership may be heavy on occasion and the burden of wearing it may become back or shoulder bending, too, the rewards can be even greater than the burden because I can affect change that is more impactful for my organization and those I lead and those we serve. And, with each success, I am reminded that I am only a caretaker of my leadership crown — it is a responsibility that God has given me; I must maintain it and wear it with humility and complete confidence knowing that, even though it’s heavy, I am not holding it up by myself — God made me its steward, not it’s owner!

Happy polishing!

“Death Becomes Her”*: The Price of Obedience


I attended an event recently and was reacquainted with a phenomenal young woman, who is actively pursuing her purpose in God. I was recounting to her some of my experiences of the last two years, especially being called by God to a place that feels desolate. She said, “God will strip everything away in order for you to die so that He can be glorified in you.” I forgot that!

This is not a new situation to me; I’ve had these kinds of experiences over and over again. Like that time I really wanted to graduate in May and begged God to allow me to do so, and He said, “You have to love and honor me whether I let you graduate in May or not.” I told the Lord that I wanted His will to be done more than I wanted mine. I died to the outcome…I graduated in May.

Or the time I really dedicated my life to The Lord and all hell broke loose; everything that could go wrong did — job, marriage, children, etc. I said, “God, why is all this happening; why aren’t you protecting me?” And He said, “Keep your eyes on me, not the situation.” I died to having it my way…I came out with my marriage intact and stronger, children healthy and a better job.

Or when my department became embroiled in craziness at work because of someone’s ego issues. It was one of the worst times in my life! I was depressed, bitter and very upset with God for not sparing me. Then, God sent me to a professional development conference at Bryn Mawr College. By the time I returned to work, I was markedly different; I used to deflect compliments regarding my skills and talents believing that if I acknowledge them, I was being arrogant. God told me my gifts and talents were part of my “armamentarium,” my tools for battle, and that not acknowledging them prevented Him from using them optimally through me. I died to who I was…I went to the conference a victim, I returned to work a soldier in God’s army ready for battle.

And what about my recent experience of jumping off the cliff (see my last blog entitled “Going ‘All In’ to Get Your Wings”) and having a Noah moment, where God called me to do something that has not been done before. I knew that there was a high degree of risk of failure and looking foolish, but I also knew that I was called by God to do it. Everything I thought I was or was important to me has been put to the test. In fact, I saw a vision of myself as being broken into small pieces, placed in a furnace for melting — smaller pieces melt faster, God told me — and being poured into a new mold. I died to my old identity…I now have a new outlook and renewed energy for the future.

With each experience, I had to die to who I was, what I had and all that I desired in order to do God’s will and to receive what He has for me. Jesus put it this way:

Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears  much fruit.  (John 12:24 NASB)

I mentioned in a previous blog The Dream Giver by Bruce Wilkinson. The main character, Ordinary, was given a big dream by God. At one point in his journey, God asked him to give the dream back, or in other words, to die to it:

Then the Dream Giver spoke again. “Come higher,” he said…Ordinary was overcome with happiness. His Big Dream was finally within reach.

“Ordinary,” said the Dream Giver.

“Yes,” said Ordinary.

“Give me your Dream.”

“What do you mean?” Ordinary asked. “It’s my Dream. You’re the one who gave it to me.”

“Yes. And now I’m asking you to give it back.”

Ordinary was shocked, but he didn’t even have to think. “I can’t,” he told the Dream Giver. “And I won’t.”

Ordinary paced back and forth along the rim of the summit, trying to understand what had just happened. Why would the Dream Giver want to take away his Big Dream? How could he even ask? Especially now, when Ordinary had come so far. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t even right.

Then Ordinary had an idea. Maybe there was a way out.

“Do I have to give it back?” he asked.

“No,” the Dream Giver said. “Some choose not to.”

So he had a choice. He could keep his Dream. But instead of relief at the thought, Ordinary felt confused and sad. What was he going to do?

He slumped down on the rock. He thought for a long while. Finally, he saw what was at stake. He could please the Dream Giver and surrender his Dream. Or he could go against the Dream Giver’s wishes and keep his Dream, but risk losing the Dream Giver’s pleasure.The choice broke his heart.

Time passed. Ordinary thought, and thought some more. The sun set and rose again.

The Dream Giver had always kept his promises. He had always been good to Ordinary, even when he was nowhere in sight and nothing seemed to make sense.

Then Ordinary knew what he had to do—no, what he wanted to do. He carried his knapsack to the edge of the rock and sat down. He took out his journal and his long white feather, and he wrote his last entry about his Big Dream.
“I am surrendering my Dream to you, Dream Giver. I’ve decided that it’s you that I can’t go on without.”

Later that day, Ordinary reached the river. No one waited for him there. He had no Dream or plan now. Yet he felt a deep peace. He waded into the river and swam across, pulling his knapsack behind him. At the far bank, he climbed out. And the first thing he saw was his journal, lying open on the grass. His heart racing, he picked it up and read:

“Ordinary, I am giving you back your Dream. Now you can use it to serve me. Now you can achieve truly Great Things. And I am with you always.”

Now when Ordinary looked at his surrendered Dream, he saw that it had grown. Now his Dream was no longer only about Ordinary. Now it was part of the Dream Giver’s Big Dream for the whole world.

Ordinary had to die to the dream — through obedience–before he could move forward to pursue the dream God’s way. What a contradiction! So, in God’s plan, death, through obedience, is really the best way to live!

 

*Title taken from the movie “Death Becomes Her” released in 1992 by Universal Pictures.