The defining feature was the stairway. Our front hall was a black and white checker board of marble – always cool to the touch. The soft carpeting of the stairs was a contrast that emphasized the transition from the public to the private, from the communal to the individual. I lived in a two-story brick house in a quiet neighborhood my entire childhood. It was (and still is) a place that holds a lot of interest for me. Upstairs were our bedrooms – my parents, mine, and my sister’s. The downstairs was our collective living space – living room, kitchen, family room. Of course, such an architectural arrangement has a number of challenges. One of those challenges is illustrated by this irrefutable domestic law: stuff gets left where it’s most convenient, not in the place it’s “supposed” to go.
If you don’t know what I’m talking about, then one of the following is almost certainly true: everyone in your home has Obsessive Compulsive traits (nothing wrong with that); there are no other humans in your home and you haven’t carefully observed your own tendencies; or you live only with dogs (anecdotally, they are far less selfish than cats).
But I think most of us can relate to this cyclical struggle. We would come home (me, my Dad, my Sister) and we would leave our shoes, our books, our “things” downstairs. Because, let’s face it, I didn’t want to carry it upstairs to my room – way too hard. So, my Mom, in all her maternal optimism, would create piles of our things to be taken upstairs. The logic follows: if she could consolidate our stuff and make it so that one trip up the stairs with an armful of stuff would get the job done, then why wouldn’t we take our shoes upstairs?
Why wouldn’t we indeed…I can’t say I know, but I do remember this: we didn’t take our stuff upstairs. So, what happened then? My Dad, chief among us, became notorious for his piles. He’d have a pile of books over here, a stack of magazines over there, a few pairs of shoes sitting next to that chair, some files from work in a box by that desk…Part of why I’m telling you this is so that if you ever come to my house, you’ll know that what you see is genetic as much as it is a character flaw.
Here’s the thing: one pair of shoes is not an unmanageable load. Add a few books, some homework, a jacket, a couple hats, another pair of shoes, and the task starts to look downright miserable. Eventually, it becomes so unappealing that the thought of actually doing it becomes irrelevant – it just ain’t happening.
There is a valuable life lesson here, in particular, for those of us who serve in any kind of leadership capacity at work or at home: take the shoes upstairs when you walk by them the first time.
Most of us know at least one or two things that need to be taken care of – metaphorical piles on the stairs of our lives. Do the laundry. Pay the bill. Clean the closet. Have the awkward conversation. Confess to the wrongdoing. Make the confrontation. Tell the boss. Hold the employee accountable. Fix the obvious problem. Enforce the relational boundary. At first, it’s a fairly simple task. But out of forgetfulness, laziness, fatigue, or some combination of all three, we avoid the vital and simple work that needs to be done.
So what happens next? The pile gets larger. Time slips away. And eventually, the mountainous problem becomes insurmountable. Whatever it may be, it seems that our “stuff” in life has a way of accumulating and if we do not deal with it directly, the problem will grow to an unmanageable size.
Jordan Peterson, speaking specifically about relational challenges observed, “Conflict delayed is conflict multiplied.” There’s a lot of wisdom in those words because many of us have experienced the fallout of putting off a conversation or confrontation that is necessary but difficult. And there is a significant amount of moral courage and humility required to “speak the truth in love” as the Apostle Paul puts it.
If I may be honest though, that’s the only way to live and lead in God’s Kingdom. Handling issues or problems directly, promptly, and with sincere love is essential to maintaining healthy relationships and as much peace as is possible. While many of our metaphorical shoe piles may not be relational, I wanted to emphasize this particular point because human relationships are essential to an abundant life. Your family, your job, your business, your coffeeshop, your gym, your school, your church – they are nothing without people. And when people live together, they will experience conflict.
Jesus offered very simple, very clear instruction on how to handle conflict: “If your brother or sister sins, go and point out their fault, just between the two of you. If they listen to you, you have won them over.” (Matthew 18:15, NIV)
I genuinely believe Jesus is the wisest man who ever lived (among many other things about him). And if we just simply put his teaching into practice, our lives would be noticeably better. Note that he leaves no room for gossip, for speculation, for worrying, or for slander. There is no blasting of anyone on social media in Jesus’ Kingdom. When there is some kind of relational conflict in your life, handle it directly, quickly, and with love. And if it doesn’t work out the way that you wanted, lovingly release that person or that situation into God’s patient and just care.
This relational principle is broadly applicable to all areas of life and leadership though. Whenever something is out of place, the best time to fix it is right now. Don’t wait, don’t avoid, don’t delay, and don’t procrastinate. And if you do (as we all do), then address it at the next opportunity. If you miss it the first day, don’t miss it the second.
In other words, take the shoes upstairs when you walk by them the first time.
Comentarios