One Step Up and Two Steps Back

One Step Up -- And Two Steps Back :

Progress is Perfection

“When I look at myself I don't see, The man I wanted to be. Somewhere along the line I slipped off track, I'm caught movin' one step up and two steps back”

The apostle Paul says, "let us rejoice in the hope of God’s glory, not ours. Additionally, we must also rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that our current hardship produces patient endurance. In endurance, proven character is developed, and in this character, hope and a confident assurance of our salvation results." This brings us back to God’s glory. It’s a holy progression.

To quote Springsteen: “When I look at myself, I don't see, the man I wanted to be. Somewhere along the line I slipped off track. I'm moving one step up and two steps back." Don’t we spend our whole lives trying to move up a notch? To "get ahead"?

Progress is measured in so many different ways, but our tendency is to focus always on the goal: the quota, the grade, the sale, the child, the bonus, the end-zone, the accomplishment. The question is whether we can adjust our internal "success-meter" to focus on the great amount of progress made in learning, growing, changing, and adjusting to the inevitable ups and downs of life; instead of comparing and despairing in the futile illusion of being perfect, or reaching the “Goal”. Truth is, progress is perfection.

Instead of calculating our net worth, or assessing our self-righteousness on a lofty standard, could it be possible that God blesses us with adversity, teaches us through hardship, and honors our work of survival and resiliency? In light of eternity, earthly triumphs do not seem so valuable, and seeking perfection becomes narcissistic. Are these truths passed down to our children, or do parents constantly strive to protect them? What seems natural could actually be holding them back.

Paul also wrote that God wants us to focus on spiritual matters and rejoice in our suffering; even though we spend a lifetime seeking comfort. God promises that anyone who does what pleases Him will live forever; but we say that money isn’t everything – it’s the only thing. Man seeks pleasure, while God gives wisdom (through adversity).

Spiritual currency can be spent throughout eternity, but our earthly bank accounts are devaluing quickly. If we are broken, dependent, obedient followers of Jesus, our trials are heavenly blessings, because they cause us to draw near to Him. A christian must value Christ's sacrifice, and God's word more than their own timetable of priorities, but this is difficult. 

Otherwise, our comfort, wealth, and ease of living pushes us away from a Godly life, into a habit of choosing things, or following people outside of God’s will. It’s counter-intuitive but clearly biblical, that we are most fulfilled when we empty ourselves. (see Philippians 3: 7-8, and Mark 9:35)

God wants us close to him, in a relationship. Sometimes he uses discipline to open our eyes, recognize our weakness, and turn to Him for help. We can be following the wrong leaders, or accepting a counterfeit agenda as we navigate through our lives, so what do we do? It's one-step-at-a-time: first recognize the need, then accept the solution which is outside of ourselves, and then take up the vision (cross) of God, and follow.

We think He approaches with a warrant for our arrest, but God is serving us with an invitation to a massive party, celebrating His glory alone and not the world. Accepting this also requires we re-focus, re-calibrate, re-define progress, and re-frame setbacks as opportunities. ##

Blog post ©Mark H. Pillsbury

Leaving New York: True Love

Track Four #TrueLove

He loved Central Park. It gave him a feeling of liberation from confined space; oozing out of the pores of the freest city in the world--of possibilities outside its verdant borders. Staring out at the Park, the reality of his abrupt exit from FormCorp nearly suffocated him this evening on the way to the airport; slowly making his way north on Fifth Avenue, a sad soundtrack playing in the dark limousine.

The four years spent in Manhattan exceeded every dream he’d had of life in the City that Never Sleeps. It breathed life into him every morning as he walked the concrete canyons to work, even trudging through grey, slushy snow. As CEO of a wholly-owned subsidiary, he spent four years immersed in FormCorp and the culture of the financial district. Large corporations have diverse networks and traditions so ingrained they live like old families, oblivious to their dysfunction and set in their ways. With many of his ideas ignored or marginalized by the parent company and on the verge of a leadership shift; he’d decided to leave without much fanfare. It was time to go, but the city's twinkle faded before his eyes, refracted by tears. The city was moving on without him.

As an outsider from New York, coming into lead a major division was a difficult challenge; the ethos of this culture was an elitist brand of excellence, and every team was a team of type-A leaders. As hard as it was to gain the high ground in his group within the larger corporation, the years had flown by in “New York time,” making this evening’s final ride even more shocking. This was it. He was leaving her. The end of a short, torrid love affair, doomed from the beginning. How appropriate that the driver, Mike; like a friend by now, slipped Coldplay’s latest reflective album "Ghost Stories" into the stereo system; a musical representation of his crushed, defeated torpor. He lifelessly leaned against the door staring out at the city bustling by, seemingly like a lover fading down and away on a busy street, lost in the crowds.

He would miss the wild changes in seasons, fashionistas, the art, and the word-on-the street. Dining in Manhattan always presented challenges, but he enjoyed the “hunt” of finding just the right place to eat. Often you didn’t brag about some local discovery because you wanted to keep it to yourself, keep it from being overrun. Here, everything moved with such a velocity; from public opinion, to speeding cabs, the rise and fall of the markets, even the lithe Central Park “joggers” had a running pace he always envied. This was the City of the World; nothing like it.

["Most other American municipalities are segregated by class and culture, education and personal choice. But in New York everybody is jumbled up together and bounced around until you have African princes walking side by side with Appalachian Daughters of the American Revolution, and aspiring starlets making room for hopeful housewives past their prime. Even with real estate costs climbing above the reach of almost everyone, you can still find all the elements of humanity riding #1 train down under the West Side of Manhattan."

--Walter Mosley (The Long Fall 2009)]

His company spent a lot of time helping its leaders learn what to do, say, how write email, or drive production and profits; however, not enough time was spent helping those same leaders learn what to stop doing. His early mistake was not in governance of his team, but failing to ask the right questions about the company which owned FormCorp. Before he even took the job in New York, he could have delved deeply into its leadership structure and how its centralized nature diluted the power of the divisional CEOs. Like why did the Executive VP working closely with the President & Chairman have the right meddle in his operation? She wasn’t above him on the org chart, but he couldn’t get her out of his business: "that's just not how we do it at FormCorp," was the mantra; but he believed that without freedom and creativity, collaboration looks like conformity.

His ability to change or even accommodate the executive leadership team of FormCorp’s parent company was slight in the first year of his tenure; and yet business practices they couldn’t stop doing would be the harbinger of his end, even though three years later. This may seem as minutiae out of a MBA class; but power struggles are as old as time; and it came down to that.

Taking a risky leap exposes one to all sorts of danger and timing is everything.

He’d heard those bromides forever, but their truth hung on every word of the songs Chris Martin sang this lonely evening. His family had moved back to California already, giving him time to close up his tenure at FormCorp and exit the city. All the “what-ifs” had been tumbling around in his mind for weeks, as the end approached; he’d even considered taking some time off to consider resurgence--staying in the position but taking a different approach. Ultimately, it was the permanent finality of this trip out of town making him feel so broken, ancient, and sad--and gone.

 “It is often said that New York is a city for only the very rich and the very poor. It is less often said that New York is also, at least for those of us who came there from somewhere else, a city for only the very young.” ― Joan Didion, from Slouching Towards Bethlehem  

Stuck in traffic on Fifth Avenue, listening to Coldplay’s transparent, very personal CD, “Ghost Stories,” he recognized that his sorrow was different than Chris Martin; but they both carried bruised and tattered hearts. The melancholy of the fourth song, “True Love” played as a soundtrack to his grieving; lament reflecting back off the tall glass towers peering over the Park. Going to the airport on his last trip out of town lifted the burden of his corporate battle against dysfunction; even though physically, he slumped down, hidden in the dark leather seat like it was a cave. His sentiment was mournful, even weeping, like Jonny Buckland's ethereal guitar solo toward the end of the track. She couldn't look him in the eye as she left, that was the worst of it.

Darkness engulfed like none before. A long, successful run in this business made him to this point unaware of the pain of rejection or the agony of defeat. He saw his underlings and some friends endure disaster before, and subconsciously, he probably knew that renewed growth would come out of this day; yet on this drive none of that coalesced in his mind. For a while he was in control, but he lost it. He sobbed. Unbelieving, agonizing with regret. The song was about a pain too great to face:

"Tell me you love me, New York; if you don't, then lie. It can’t be over. Lie to me."

(end)

#Fiction ©Mark H. Pillsbury (2014)
©Coldplay 6th album "Ghost Stories" rel. by Atlantic Records in N Am. on 05/19/2014

#saraBmusic - song: Manhattan (Live at the Variety Playhouse) from The Blessed Unrest

The tender-hearted ballad of Sara leaving Manhattan:

"What's holding us together is simply fear of what's already changed."

 

Try to listen to this without thinking back on all the endings you've experienced?

 

The words and music are simple and profound; beautifully sad, and sublime. Again, let me dedicate this to my classmates in HP 1983; with whom I shared so much back in September.

 

She is a a major talent, just waiting to break out.
Good-bye 2013... Auld lang syne. --Mark

Why We Must Struggle

If we have not struggled
as hard as we can
at our strongest,
how will we sense
the shape of our losses
or know what sustains
us longer or name
what change costs us,
saying how strange
it is that one sector
of the self can step in
for another in trouble,
how loss activates
a latent double, how
we can feed
as upon nectar
upon need?

Excerpt from Say Uncle, copyright ©1991by Kay Ryan

(Dedicated to my thinking friends in the HPHS Class of 1983)