Academic regalia is a funny business. Caps, gowns, cords, stripes. A great deal of pomp and circumstance. There are times in the ceremony when caps should be removed and times when they should be worn. I was present recently in a convocation service and heard the President of the school give this advice to the platform party prior to the ceremony: "Watch what I do. When I remove my cap, remove yours. When I place mine back on, you do the same. The students will watch us and if we get it right, they will get it right."
That ends up being good leadership advice. We all know the best influence is not coersion but example. I can affect the culture of a whole community/ business/ household by the way I model life. And of course, the greater my circle of influence, the more my actions are noticed.
If I get it right, they'll be much more likely to get it right.
Let's put this idea to the test with a few thoughts on healthy communication. I believe healthy communication is the key to growing a healthy, mature community. Good communication is also the best weapon against the enemy of our souls.
As a leader, then, it becomes a high priority for me to develop a habit of communicating in ways that foster grace, sensitivity and understanding. If I learn to do this, those around me will not only respond with good will but will hopefully adopt those habits and pass them along in their circles.
If I want to make the practice of healthy communication a priority this year in my church, home or organization, here's where I'd start:
Say more. By some strange quirk of fate I, as a southerner, do not drink sweet tea. I only make it when family comes to my house, and then I make it poorly because my idea of "sweet" and their idea of "sweet" are worlds apart. Recently, I discovered a secret that resulted in perfect sweet tea by the standards of my son-in-law, the standard-bearer for such things. Here's what I did. I made the tea, adding an amount of sugar I thought I personally could tolerate. Then I added more sugar. Then I added an insane amount more, and the result was a barrage of compliments from my sweet-tea drinking family.
I discovered that "good tea" by southern standards means adding more sugar than any human could conceivably consume.
And what works for sweet tea works for communication. In fact, it is an old marketing addage that it takes seven "hits" for a consumer to hear your message. Seven. That's like saying it takes the amount of messages you think you'd need in order for a person to get it, then a few more messages beyond that. Then an insane amount more. To put it plainly, it takes more communication than you think it takes for a person to hear what you're saying.
What we think of as "over-communicating" is likely the amount needed for someone to get it. Never mind what you think they need; start with what they actually need.
Are your meetings under-attended? Do people in your church have a habit of saying, "I didn't hear about that"? Even after you've said it more than once? It is possible they are dumb, but more likely they are just good people who haven't heard.
Try this assumption: Assume people have a lot going on in their lives, a lot more than just the stuff you want them to pay attention to. And with that assumption in mind, give your folks the benefit of more information than you might think they need. I guarantee it will build good will. People will be grateful for your sensitivity to their over-crowded lives.
Affirm more. I learned this from a parishioner who learned it from Paul. You'll notice that in most of Paul's letters, even those where he's obviously frustrated, he begins with encouragement. Same thing with the letters to the churches of Revelation. Those messages all begin with what the churches are doing well. From that biblical pattern, I glean that I need to do as my mother taught and find something nice to say before I can say anything at all.
I am learning to affirm every good thing I see and to start every conversation with affirmation. Somehow, this practice seems to right-size my expectations, so I'm not constantly noticing the gap between what people are doing and what I think they ought to be doing. It is teaching me to keep a generous heart.
Blast less. One of my favorite online bits from 2013 was a cartoon about how introverts work. The cartoon is based on this premise, that introverts live in a hamster ball. In other words, introverts crave personal space. Since I have known more than one introvert, one of the more convicting images in that cartoon has the extrovert reaching frantically into the hamster ball (grasping for connection) while the introvert crouches defensively as far from the opening as possible. Yes, I've been there and done that.
That defensive crouch is a product of conditioning. The introvert in the cartoon has had his space invaded far too often to trust that intruding arm.
The image translates for me what happens when I assume the worst and blast someone with a lot of negative words. Blast people enough and they will stop trusting what you say. Send enough email bombs and you'll produce someone who cringes when they see your name pop up on the screen. Yell enough and you'll produce kids with a defensive crouch.
Here's the decision I've made where corporate communication is concerned: I will not send any emotion by email/ text/ facebook message/ twitter that isn't positive and affirming and I will not communicate negativity in public (which includes facebook and twitter). It just doesn't seem like a mature or healthy way to get a message across.
If you're prone to sending angry emails, find a way to stop yourself before you hit "send." Get a system that checks your intentions. Wait 24 hours before sending (the angrier you are, the more time you should take). Or find someone who will agree to read anything you send before you send it -- someone who won't mind being honest. Or write out what you'd like to say, then mail it to yourself and see how it feels when you're reading it as if written to you.
Then pick up the phone and make time for a face to face conversation, which leads to the next idea.
Ask more questions. This ends up being a Kingdom-building habit.
Angel Davis (author of The Perfecting Storm: Experiencing God's Best Through The Trials of Marriage*) taught me this. The Kingdom of Self is small, limited and focused on my personal feelings and happiness. It is very much based on my very narrow perspective.
The Kingdom of Heaven, by contrast, is big, hopeful, and focused on God’s truth and God’s pleasure. The key word here is "big." A Kingdom of Heaven perspective is wide, gracious and understanding. It is -- literally -- bigger than we think.
So let’s try this out. Pick something that frustrates you, something someone has done that you don't understand.
Now, ask yourself, “Is my approach to this situation small and limited, based on my feelings? Have I defaulted in the absence of information to pessimism or paranoia?” If so, I am rooted in the kingdom of self and need to ask more questions to get a broader perspective.
Far too late in life, I've learned that most of my frustration and miscommunication is a product of not asking enough questions before jumping to conclusions. Remember: The Kingdom of Heaven is big, hopeful and focused not on me and my feelings, but on God and His Kingdom. When I invest the time it takes to ask clarifying questions, seeking not so much "to be understood as to understand" (a prayer of St. Francis), I am reaching for God's vision, God's perspective, God's Kingdom.
Finally, assume the best. I notice this, in our dealings with our two pets. When we imagine what our dog says, it is always guileless. She knows nothing of our bad intentions. She is thrilled when we come home and understanding but sad when we leave. She does not hold a grudge and never misses an opportunity to share love with us. At least, this is how we imagine, or imagined, our dog's attitude. Her language is the language of affirmation.
Our cat is another story. When we imagine what she's thinking, it is always cynical. She distrusts us. She barely notices when we come home and is secretly relieved when we leave. It is possible that to her, we are idiots or maybe prison guards, but certainly not caregivers. Her default attitude is indifference verging on disgust. Or at least, that's how we imagine it.
Our assumptions, of course, are not realistic. In fact, for all her seeming devotion, our dog ran away last year. For all her apparent disdain, our cat follows me around the house like ... well ... like a dog.
So maybe I don't know all there is to know about the intentions even of those closest to me. Perhaps I would do better to assume the best in them, to assume their intentions are good and their hearts are for me, not against me, even if their approach to a situation is not what I'd have chosen. I can accomplish this attitude if I keep a "Kingdom of Heaven" perspective - big, hopeful and focused on God. And only if I'm willing to begin back where this piece begins -- by saying more, affirming more, blasting less and asking more questions before making assumptions.
I am convinced that healthy churches and organizations are built on a foundation of healthy communication.I am making it a priority this year to build an intentionally healthy system of communication that models grace, sensitivity and understanding.
I will say more, then more still, so others have the benefit of clarity. I will blast less, or not at all. I will ask more questions and seek God's perspective. I will assume the good intentions of those around me, believing they care as much as I do about what really matters.
And if I can get it right, they'll be more likely to get it right. And the ripples will extend to their circles of influence. And on it goes. The Kingdom of Heaven works like that.
*The Perfecting Storm, by Angel Davis can be found here: http://www.amazon.com/Perfecting-Storm-Experiencing-Through-Marriage-ebook/dp/B00CUIK47O/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1389368452&sr=8-1-fkmr0&keywords=angel+davis+weathering+the+storms