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[Nov 5, 2012]

Jay Lorenzen,
Department of Political Science,
United States Air Force Academy,
Faculty Commons Staff

In anticipation of the Spielberg movie, Lincoln, I’ve been re-reading Doris Kearns Goodwin’s masterful work, Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln.  In her book, she describes the various personalities who made up Lincoln’s cabinet.  I was surprised again by the blatant egotism and personal rivalries Lincoln faced in leading these men.  I couldn’t help thinking of the various academic departments where I had served.  Had I participated in such ego-driven rivalries, such political positioning?   Perhaps more than I want to admit.

Reading Goodwin’s book, I wondered: What can I learn from Lincoln about leading well in places where everyone sees themselves as rivals?

Here is one particular thought: Continually Call Others To Something Great, not to being Great. 

I often felt the pressure within the academy to be great.  Henri Nouwen has helped me over the years–particularly his book, In the Name of Jesus: Reflections on Christian Leadership.  Instead of finding my identity and significance in how “great I am,” Nouwen argues that my identity and significance must ultimately rest in the Father’s declaration that in Christ I too “am his beloved son/daughter, in whom He is well-pleased.”

With that gospel identity in place, I’ve been strangely helped by Lincoln’s ability to call out in others a commitment to something great. A few weeks ago, I stood again where Lincoln delivered the Gettysburg Address.  Built around a set of structural metaphors (past-present-future and birth-death-rebirth), Lincoln’s speech captured in many ways those God-ingrained desires to live for things beyond ourselves.  Both to the country and especially to those driven by the desire to be great, Lincoln had a unique ability to remind them of things greater than themselves.

In his book, What God Wants to Know, Bruce Larson shared this story:

Lincoln often slipped into the Wednesday-night service at New York Presbyterian Church where Dr. Gurley was the pastor.  To avoid disrupting things, he would listen from the privacy of the pastor’s study which adjoined the sanctuary.  Lincoln’s young aide, John Hay, usually came along.  On one particular night, Hay asked Lincoln how he liked the sermon. 

“I thought it was well thought through, powerfully delivered, and very eloquent” was the reply. 

“Then you thought it was a great sermon?” the young man continued. 

“No,” said Lincoln, “it failed. It failed because Dr. Gurley did not ask us to do something great.”

As followers of  Christ, perhaps we should ask fellow faculty to take small steps toward doing great things–toward things bigger than themselves.  Deep inside of all of us is that desire.  Jesus recognized it when he challenged his disciples to seek first the Kingdom of God and his righteousness (Matthew 6:33).

Lately, I’ve been experimenting with the following set of questions with other faculty:

1.  Tell me more about your current academic work.  What intrigues you about it?

2. Could it be that God gave you a love for this line of research and teaching?  I wonder why?  Could it be that God wants to use you and it to bring Kingdom change in Jesus’ name?  I wonder how?

Perhaps, as we increasingly call ourselves and our colleagues to see every aspect of our lives in light of Christ’s Kingdom, our academic departments might be defined less as rivalries rooted in personal glory and more by what Parker Palmer called  “the pursuit of truth in the company of friends.”

(c) 2012 Jay Lorenzen