I’m an idea guy. I love ideas. That’s why I love books; they’re full of ideas. I read a lot. I think about things; turning them over in my head like a bread-maker kneads dough. A lot of my life has been spent inside my own head.
We live out in the country and we’re real do-it-yourselfers. We build our own barns, put up our own fences, build our own decks, and make most of the repairs around the house. We’re pretty independent in that respect.
Before I do anything on the property, though, I need to do it in my head. I need to do it over and over again in my head. I don’t mean plan out the job, I mean do the job; nail up the lumber, run the wiring, dig the trenches, everything. I build the entire project in my head several times before I pick up a hammer or a wrench.
Mentally rehearsing the job over and over kind of takes the place of drawing up blueprints and creating materials lists. It’s probably not a good substitute – I forget things – but it’s what I do. I’m wired that way.
One of the pitfalls a guy who lives inside his head so much can encounter is not knowing when to leave. Some folks may consider it admirable that I think so much and read so much and turn ideas over in my head like a bread-maker. Thanks, I appreciate your high regard. The problem though, is that I get so comfortable inside my own cranium that I tend to stay there instead of going outside when there’s real work to be done.
My wife is pretty patient. I announce that we’re going to build a fence around the lower pasture. She’s tickled. She’s wanted a fence around the lower pasture for years. Three months later there’s still no fence around the lower pasture and she’s beginning to wonder if I really meant to build a fence or if I was just talking.
What she doesn’t realize is that I’ve already built the fence, start to finish, every board, every post, every nail, about twelve times … in my head. What I don’t realize is that the fence in my head, no matter how well built, doesn’t really serve a practical purpose.
The fence in my mind is beautiful and well constructed. As far as I’m concerned, ninety percent of the work is already done. All that remains is to actually buy the boards, dig the post holes and grab a hammer. It’s a pleasant place to be. Most of my work is accomplished without the necessity of any actual labor. That’s why the queue of “ninety percent finished” jobs in my head is so long and the list of one-hundred percent finished jobs in reality is so short. It’s just easier in here.
*****
Before starting True Potential Publishing we had a packaging business. Back when I was employed by other companies, I established a reputation as a fast learner and a generally “smart guy.” I used that reputation and my ability to think through problems and express the solutions with semi-eloquence to start and build our own business.
Around the same time we started our packaging business, two salesmen from another company started their packaging business. I knew these guys from our previous employments. I admired them as go-getter salesmen and they thought of me as a kind of guru in our little industry. They used me and our company for technical jobs and brought me to their customers when they needed an outside “expert.” All in all, they thought I was very smart.
And I was. Our products were specialized; more engineered and complex. I could think big thoughts, see the big picture and persuasively express ideas for improving our industry. I was really good in a meeting.
My two friends admired what I did, but it wasn’t their bag. They liked the less technical products, the commodities - tape, bubble wrap, foam peanuts; the stuff everybody on the block was selling, but the stuff virtually every company used. They knew how to sell and that’s what they did. Every morning they’d get up and go to existing customers, meet new customers and cold call anybody they hadn’t met yet. Every day, every week, every month, all year.
Five years after we began our respective companies I went to visit my two friends at their facility. It was huge! They were five times our size and from the looks of it five times more successful. I was the smart one. I had the really special, really technical products. How could these two guys who sold bubble wrap and tape outgrow us so easily?
The answer was simple. They didn’t spend as much time building their company in their heads. They just skipped that part and went ahead building it in reality. There may have been some things they hadn’t thought through as well as I did. Their products certainly weren’t as technical or as designed as ours were. But they were a lot more successful.
They focused on execution. They just went out and sold their product. And they did it day after day after day. They didn’t spend a lot of time with meetings, forecasts, or competitor analysis. They were too busy selling tape and bubble wrap.
*****
Planning is a good thing. Mentally rehearsing can be a good thing too. But there comes a time to get out of one’s head and onto the street. A mediocre plan executed well in reality always beats the perfect plan that never gets implemented. The difference between intention and practice is the difference between knowing what you’re supposed to do and actually doing it.
My father called it “convictional obedience” versus “positional obedience.” Convictional obedience is knowing what you need to do, agreeing that it’s the right things to do and preparing yourself to do it. Positional obedience is doing it.
Here’s another little story about our former business. Before starting the business in 1997 I was an executive for a medium size manufacturing firm. I had spent about as much time as I could stomach in the corporate world and I was ready to move on.
I mentioned in an earlier letter that, instinctively, I always knew I was supposed to be in publishing. It never happened. I never planned or prepared for it. I took the first job that came my way and things just kind of worked out from there. In 1997 I was ready to go out on my own, start my own business. In 1997 I knew that I was to be writing and publishing full time. In 1997 I quit my job and started a packaging company.
Why? Why not a publishing company? That’s easy. I was afraid. I was afraid because I really didn’t know anything about publishing and I couldn’t see how things would end up down that road. Even though I knew what I was supposed to do and had known it all of my adult life, I couldn’t do it. The idea was just too big; insurmountable.
So I fell back on what I knew. I started a packaging company. I was a much younger man back then. It seems like a funny thing to say, after all, that was just ten years ago. But starting a company from scratch, with no money, bootstrapping all the way takes a toll. It ages you.
It also wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing. It’s not like I was running a prostitution ring or a drug cartel. It was a packaging company. I was gainfully and legally employed, I was supporting our family, I was providing jobs for others and contributing to the economy. There’s nothing wrong with running a packaging company. It just wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing.
Pouring your life into something, even if it’s good, may not be right. I know that I spent a big chunk of my life doing one thing when I was supposed to be doing something else. Were there books that didn’t get published, messages that didn’t reach their intended audience, lives that could have been changed but weren’t in those years? I don’t know.
All I know is that I knew what I was supposed to do in 1977. I knew in 1987. And I knew in 1997. I knew it but I didn’t do it. It was in my head, but there it stayed. I was in convictional obedience, but I didn’t do anything about it; I wasn’t in positional obedience.
It’s kind of like Moses spending forty years on the back side of the desert between “Delivering Israel I” and “Delivering Israel II.” The Israelites needed deliverance from the Egyptians a long time before Moses got around to discussing the matter with Pharaoh. Moses knew it as a young man, when he killed the Egyptian taskmaster. He knew when he was keeping an eye on the goats in Midian. He knew it when he argued with God in the desert about not being a qualified candidate for the job.
Moses knew that he was to be God’s instrument to deliver the Israelites. He always knew it. He also knew that the job was way beyond him and that he wasn’t qualified. He hadn’t seen any Israelites or Egyptians for forty years and he hadn’t parted company with either group under the best of terms. He had no clue about how to go about it and couldn’t imagine how the whole thing would all turn out.
Could he have delivered Israel twenty years earlier? Was he dragging his feet for forty years? Were there Israelite lives that should have been saved and Israelite oppression that should have been crushed while he was waiting it out in the desert? I don’t know. Moses didn’t know. Only God knows.
Don’t think that I’m trying to mess with God’s timing and purpose. I know that He has a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven (Ecc. 3:1). And I know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose (Romans 8:28).
But I also know that God, in His mercy, puts things back together after we’ve screwed them up, heals our self-inflicted wounds and uses us for His purpose anyway. It’s an easy temptation for us to look back on our wasted days and attribute them to God’s timing and providence rather than to our own noncompliance with His will.
There was a very nice young man who also happened to be very rich. He had an encounter with Jesus and because of his wealth and prominence, just couldn’t bring himself to do what Jesus asked (Matthew 19: 16 – 22). From the story we can infer that the young man regretted his decision the moment after he made it. Did he ever reconsider his decision later and sell everything to follow Jesus? Did he become a follower of Christ after His crucifixion and resurrection? We don’t know; only God does.
What we do know is that this young man lost an opportunity he would never have again; to sit at the feet of Jesus, to walk with Him, listen to Him, become a friend of God while He walked among men. This young man just couldn’t take the step Jesus asked of him. He couldn’t make the transition from convictional obedience to positional obedience.
Just like building the fence in my head instead of the pasture. Just like choosing a career because it was easier than the one I was born for. Just like the young man who Jesus invited to become His disciple. All the good intentions and “wish I could’s” and “I’m gonna’s” in the world aren’t going to get you where you’re supposed to go.
Only going where you’re supposed to go will get you there. One step, a single step in the right direction is closer than you were yesterday. Don’t worry if you can’t see down the road. What do you see in front of your right foot? Make that step, I promise the next step will come into view when you do.
