Action: Run to Great Purpose
Dad and I lay low yesterday. Our trip to Greenwood pretty much wiped him out, though he’s adamant about the fact that it was not his last hurrah. To prove it, he set up another appointment for lunch today. “It’ll be a very important visit, Son,” he told me.
We spent part of our day yesterday in the basement together, working on some final track hookup. Dad mostly watched, though he did touch up a few buildings with paint. We turned the whole system on and ran our trains. For a little while, time stood still—Dad and his boy just played with trains. I’ll cherish this memory.
We also talked.
“What’s up with Anna?” he asked at one point, a small twinkle in his eyes.
“Nothing,” I replied a little defensively. “I don’t think anything’s up. She’s nice, though,” I decided to allow.
“Indeed. Like I said to you before. You need new eyes, my boy. ‘Nothing,’ you say!”
I just looked at him, unable to suppress a small smile. Okay, maybe not nothing.
“I’ve steered clear of relationships for a long time, Pop,” I said.
“That’s supposed to assure me?” he asked, looking very unimpressed. “Trouble is, if you make a habit of steering clear of relationships, you can end up disconnected from everything, including yourself.
“God, too,” he added, his eyes piercing me from out over the top of his reading glasses.
I also spent part of yesterday with Mom. Dad napped in the afternoon, and I helped Mom with a grocery store run and with a couple of other errands. I was glad for the time to talk just with her, to talk about the future, hers without Dad and mine in light of what I’ve been learning. I’m realizing that this little visit to Philadelphia isn’t little at all. My future won’t be the same. For one thing, Mom is going to need much more support from me. I need to figure out how this is going to work.
All right, Mike. Time to get back to business.
I helped Dad to the car late this morning, and he surprised me by directing me to Philly’s naval shipyard.
“I think you’re developing a good model of what a Serving Leader does,” Dad said. “But I still think you are missing a key piece. You’ve got the dynamics of it—how the leader builds the team, the business, and the community—but you’re missing something very important. I believe that my friend Admiral Butler can help you with this.”
“An admiral is going to teach me something about Serving Leadership?” I asked, a small note of incredulity slipping past my efforts to suppress it.
“Indeed!” he retorted. “I’m going to introduce you today to an admiral in the United States Navy who is a wonderful Serving Leader. You’ve got to keep your eyes open, Mike,” he added. “Great men and women show up everywhere. You’ll find them among the poor, and you’ll find them among the powerful. But you won’t find them if you’re not looking for them!”
I felt duly chastised by this remark. Dad’s on what turns out to be a pretty full-time mission to heal my blindness, and I admit to the infirmity. I need to keep my eyes open.
Arriving at the shipyard, we were cleared through security, handed passes, and escorted to a squeaky-clean boardroom to meet Admiral “Rock” Butler. Lunch had just been brought in, and places were set for the three of us.
“Admiral Butler,” I said in greeting, a bit cowed by the man’s high rank. “It’s an honor.”
“Call me Rock, please, Mike,” he answered. “Everybody else does.”
“Okay,” I answered doubtfully, not quite ready to address this famous man as my old bud Rock.
Admiral Butler looked to be about fifty-five years old. He was not a big man, standing maybe five foot ten, but his presence was big. The best way I can describe it is that he was at home inside himself. His posture was completely relaxed, but there wasn’t a single degree of slouch in his stance. He seemed in full command of his domain but without any particular exertion required. His hair was short and gray, and his face and eyes were as open as those of anyone I’ve ever met.
“I’d like you to talk to Mike about your approach to leadership, Rock,” Dad said, wholly uncowed. “Give him the scoop.”
“Before I do that, Mike,” Rock replied, “brief me on what you’ve learned so far about Serving Leaders.”
Dad shifted his full attention my way, looking pleased that the admiral had chosen to start out this way.
“Well,” I stammered, feeling like I did when Dad put me on the spot back on my very first morning, “Serving Leaders are living paradoxes,” I began.
Dad gave me a smile for that line.
“They are leaders who begin by turning the old hierarchy on its head and then placing themselves at the bottom. I’m calling that point ‘Upend the Pyramid.’ They serve many people by first selectively serving a few, and they set high standards for their people. BioWorks calls this ‘Raise the Bar.’ But then they help their people reach those high standards by teaching them how to succeed and by removing obstacles from in front of them. I’m calling this ‘Blaze the Trail.’ And, finally, they help their teams focus on and align along their best strengths. And I’m calling this final point ‘Build on Strength.’
I stopped. “I guess that’s the sixty-second elevator speech,” I added, not feeling that I had quite captured it.
“A fair speech,” Admiral Butler said equably. “Can you draw it for me?” he asked, pointing to the whiteboard on one side of the boardroom.
I stood, picked up a dark green dry-erase marker, and sketched my upside-down pyramid, filling in the four actions I had just mentioned. When I finished the job, I sat down, feeling like a student waiting to get his grade.
Rock stared at the board for a moment, his face inscrutable, and then he turned toward me. “I like it,” he began. “I agree with each point you’ve written there, and I teach them all to my leadership team here.”
“Wow!” was all I could think to say. I glanced over at my dad, whose face was as unreadable as Rock’s. I turned my attention back to Rock. “So you think I really am getting the important points?” I asked, fishing for one more round of confirmation.
“Well,” Rock drawled, a kind smile slowly blooming on his face, “I think you’re getting many of the important points. But I also think you’re missing something that’s very important.”
“My dad said the same thing this morning, Admiral.”
“You really are building a good model,” he said encouragingly. “And I think I can help you flesh it out. And, Mike?” he continued. “It’s Rock, okay?”
“Okay,” I said. “You know, Rock,” I added, emboldened to try my hand at this “Rock” business, “Dr. Martin Goldschmidt and I talked briefly about what drives the Serving Leader. He said that for him there has to be a larger purpose underneath all the techniques.”
“Bingo! That’s just what I want to talk with you about.” He stood, took a marker, and wrote a phrase in large, bold letters underneath my pyramid.
Then he underlined the words.
“Let’s talk about these words,” Rock said, again taking his seat. “I think that Serving Leaders are people in pursuit of a great purpose,” he began. “Not something puny but something really important. Important enough to live for. Important enough to die for.”
I wrote his words down in my journal.
“What separates Serving Leaders from ordinary leaders is that they’re on the trail of such a purpose—it’s why I use the word “run.” Serving Leaders articulate a purpose so compelling that people are willing to run toward it. The leaders set the pace, and this spirit gets transferred to the people they serve.
“The thing about your model,” he continued, “is that it doesn’t have the right foundation.” He let that comment stand for a second.
“I have to say it more strongly,” Rock added. “Your model doesn’t have any foundation. It’s composed of several excellent action steps, but what holds it all together?”
I just blinked. “Purpose?” I offered, feeling dumb. He had just told me it was purpose, so what was I going to say?
Rock smiled, leaned over, and slapped me on the back. “Tell you what,” he said. “I’ll do a better job helping you out with this if I can tell you a story. And I need to take you upstairs for that. Are you up for a hike, Bob?” he asked my dad. “Mike and I will help you.”
“Count me in,” Dad replied, an old soldier’s grim determination on his face.
“I want to take you up to what we call ‘the Crow’s Nest,’” Rock said, reaching into his briefcase to retrieve something. It was an old, weathered Bible. As I processed this, I rose to help Dad.
After navigating a series of stairs and walkways, we ended up inside a glass lookout atop a high wall from which we could see the busy naval port.
Rock started the discussion. “I thought you’d appreciate this. From here you can see the Pyramid Club, where I understand you started this journey.” I turned around and looked out across the city, thinking about how far I had come.
Rock sat down at a small table in the lookout, pulling chairs up for Dad and me. “My role model for this business of great purpose is found in one of the oldest management texts in the world,” he stated significantly, laying his old copy of the Bible on the table between us. “The text is Nehemiah.”
“It’s in the Old Testament, Mike,” Dad said.
“I know it’s in the Old Testament,” I replied a little testily, hoping Rock wasn’t going to ask me to actually find it.
Rock just chuckled, opening his Bible in one flip of the pages right to the place. Dad peeked over at me, eyebrows arched, with a Mona Lisa smile of satisfaction on his face.
“Nehemiah was a senior executive,” Rock began, “working in the court of a conquering king, far away from his home city of Jerusalem. He heard about the terrible condition of Jerusalem and felt called to the purpose of rebuilding its walls and gates.”
“A slightly bigger task than rebuilding our communities here in Philly,” Dad interjected.
“I wouldn’t be too sure, Bob. Rebuilding an urban community is the most daunting purpose I know—it’s harder than what we do here. Don’t sell yourself short,” he added.
Dad nodded his acceptance of the correction.
“Anyway, Nehemiah went courageously to the king of Babylon—that’s roughly Iraq today—and asked for permission to return to his native city to begin work.”
I was taking notes as fast as my hand could move.
“To get a view like we have here from the Crow’s Nest, Nehemiah rode around the city, all the way around it, late at night, seeing for himself the damage and devastation. Compelled by the purpose in his heart, he presented a dramatic vision to his people of restoration of the twelve gates and interlocking walls of Jerusalem to their former splendor. At the same time, he was a realist, seeing the extensive damage before him. It would be an effort requiring the cooperation of everyone in Jerusalem.
“You see that, Mike?” Rock asked. “He had a great purpose. And he knew that the solution would require everyone’s best strength. That’s one of your key points.”
I underlined it in my journal.
“The next day,” Rock continued, “he brought together the elders and leaders of the city and gave them a purpose and a challenge, to restore Jerusalem to its former glory.
“Then came, what did you call it, the upside-down pyramid?”
“Upending the pyramid,” I answered.
“Right. Nehemiah divided the work according to families—families who were living adjacent to the damaged gates and walls—and then he upended the pyramid and put all his time into helping them succeed at their great task.”
I underlined that, too.
“Soon critics and enemies of the rebuilding came out of the woodwork, threatening the workers. Nehemiah’s role shifted again as a Serving Leader to providing physical and spiritual protection.”
I scribbled “Blaze the Trail” in the margin here.
“The work proceeded to full success,” Rock concluded, “because the families were running with Nehemiah toward his great purpose; it had totally captured their hearts. One by one, the gates and walls were restored.”
“I get it,” I declared, nodding.
“It’s my job right now,” Rock replied, “to make sure that you do get it. And so I want to make my point even sharper. You’ve got a great model. It matches my own learning and experience profoundly well. But purpose isn’t the final point, Mike.” He stated this emphatically, and I just stared at him. Was there another point?
“Purpose is your first point!” Rock concluded. “Upend the Pyramid? Why? Raise the Bar to what end? Blaze the Trail so people can get where? Build on Strength to achieve what?”
He let the questions hang in the air, and we looked at each other.
“If the purpose isn’t bigger than the people involved, none of the great things you’re seeing here in Philadelphia would be happening. People need an answer to the purpose question, and contrary to what most people believe, self-interest isn’t the answer that really delivers, and it isn’t the answer that really satisfies.”
Rock paused again and looked at me. I looked back. I was thinking. People need an answer to the purpose question, Rock had just said. So what has been my answer?
To get promoted; that’s been one of my answers for a very long time. To get a bigger salary. Maybe win the boss’s job. To get to the top. These have been my answers. And how empty they all seem right now. I could have stayed on that path, achieved every goal, totally succeeded, and ended up exactly where I started—still wondering why.
“None of the incredible acceleration and creative teamwork and high productivity your model speaks of will happen,” Rock continued, “unless you build your model on top of the foundation of a great purpose. Get that clear first, and everything else will follow!
“Are you there, Mike?” he then asked, apparently unsure what was going on behind my glazed eyes.
“Oh, I’m here,” I answered, chuckling and shaking my head. “It’s just that I’m a little occupied right now rearranging all the furniture in my brain.”
Rock smiled and nodded. He was more than satisfied.
I looked over at Dad, and there were tears running down his cheeks. The look on his face told me that what had just happened pleased him beyond words.
Run to Great Purpose is the first action that marks the Serving Leader. It’s the foundation. Everything else follows.
“Okay, Rock,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’ll change my model. I haven’t any doubt about it; Run to Great Purpose is the first action that marks the Serving Leader. It’s the foundation. Everything else follows.” I made this comment with absolute clarity of mind and real conviction.
“Mike, it’s going to be a pleasure learning to know you better,” Rock said. His face told me that he meant every word of it. “And, Bob,” he added, turning to my dad, “a chip off the old block is how I see it.”
Dad’s tears continued to flow, his face a portrait of gratitude.
“I’m thinking about your No-Name Team, Dad,” I said, turning to face him squarely. He wiped his eyes. “They’re connected at such a deep level. It’s more than the techniques they’re using. They have a purpose that pulls everything into focus. It helps me understand why such great people want to be on the team, where the morale comes from, and why I see such courage in the circle.”
Dad nodded.
“They want to make a real difference for Philadelphia. For everybody who lives here. They believe they can.”
“That’s the whole point, Mike,” Rock said. “Making a difference for others is the point of our lives. It is the great purpose that gives us everything we need to run the best race we can.” His voice trailed off. He kept his eyes focused on me, his face deeply thoughtful.
“Has anyone told you before that you were born to make a difference?”
I held Rock’s gaze, considering his question. No one had ever told me that, exactly. I really wanted to believe it and felt ready to.
“You were born to make a difference, Mike,” Rock repeated. It wasn’t a question this time. “And I see no reason why you shouldn’t start today. Start right now,” he added, his voice quiet and commanding.
No one said anything for a long moment, and then I nodded my head.
“This is an important day for me, Rock,” I said. “And you were right, Dad. I was missing an important piece. My model was missing it, and so was I.
“Can I ask you both a question?” I continued. “While we’re dealing with missing pieces?”
“Ask,” Dad responded.
“How does the spiritual part work? Or more precisely, is the spiritual part required for Serving Leadership to work? You both carry around Bibles.”
“It’s important to me, Mike,” Dad said, his voice quavering with emotion. “My faith is important to me because it keeps me in mind of the fact that my life doesn’t belong to me. My living needs to serve something bigger than myself.”
“I know that’s true of you, Dad,” I answered, wondering why he was explaining this to me. I knew it full well.
“I want it to be true of you, too, Mike,” Dad continued, his face now full of feeling.
“It is true of me,” I answered strongly, now understanding how he had taken my question. He thought I was back to my personal ruminations, which at this moment I wasn’t. “It’s becoming true of me, I should say. If you’re troubled about my part in this, you can put your mind at ease. I’m on the way.” I walked over to where my dad was sitting and gave him a hug. I really appreciated how much he cared for me, for the whole of me.
“You were really asking two questions, weren’t you, Mike?” Rock said. “One of a personal nature and one more professional.”
“Thank you, Rock, for saying that so well,” I answered, glad for the graceful transition he offered. “I work with a lot of clients, and I need to provide business value regardless of a client’s spiritual orientation or nonorientation. I want to promote principles and actions that can be applied in many different settings and that work for many different kinds of people. Some of them are spiritually inclined, to be sure. And some have deeply humane principles that aren’t religiously motivated. And some are driven to build great and profitable companies. So, yes, my question is, does Serving Leadership just plain work?”
“It just plain works,” Dad answered. Rock nodded. “Many of our friends are from different faiths,” Dad continued, “and many of the firms that use our principles have no faith agenda.”
“We have colleagues in government,” Rock added, “who are reporting great benefit from Serving Leadership. I use these principles right here in my Navy post.”
“I guess I loaded up your schedule with a lot of the more faith-oriented colleagues, Mike,” my dad then said, a grin of confession on his face. “A father’s prerogative.”
“But here’s the point,” Rock continued. “Bring great purpose to the table, turn your leadership into service to your workers, hold high expectations, make sure your team has what it needs in training and resources and clear running ground, and maximize the strengths you have. Take these actions, and you’ll get real acceleration and impact. We believe it’s how we’ve been designed to function best.”
“Faith or no faith,” Dad added.
“Whether working with a small team, working with an entire corporation, or working with all the sectors of a great city,” Rock said.
“Live it out very personally, or set the principles in motion at a large corporate level. Let it bring deep private meaning to your life and to your family, or let it produce great public value,” Dad added. “Better yet, do both.”
Both men paused.
“But please don’t steer clear of God in your own life, Mike,” Dad continued. “Your father speaking here. Serving Leadership requires a deep humility and a willingness to pour yourself into the good of others. I pray that you let yourself be nurtured for this by something larger than yourself.”
“Your dad is offering you excellent counsel,” Rock said, his face sober. “Leaders find themselves in very difficult places. Great leaders do,” he added.
“Admiral, Dad,” I said, “you’ve answered my questions and then some. I want to make a difference with my life. And I want to help many, many others excel in their leadership so their lives can also make a difference. Thank you.”
“I’ve enjoyed it, Mike,” the admiral said, rising to his feet. “But can I give you one more piece of advice?”
“Sure,” I said, rising to join him.
“Call me Rock,” he said, this time with a very wide smile.
“Rock,” I replied, nodding firmly.
The admiral gave me a big hug.
I picked up my notebook, which was an almost unreadable scribble of notes, filled with whole sections of Rock’s remarks that I tried to capture word for word, as well as sidebar notations. I knew I was going to have my hands full getting it down more clearly later.
Not to mention the job of actually living it out. That’s going to make the job of writing it all down a cinch in comparison.
I looked over at my dad, who had not yet gotten out of his seat. He looked back at me with eyes that were suddenly very tired. And very content.
Rock wanted a few final minutes just with my father, and I took the opportunity to reflect on what I had just heard, what it meant for my own life, and something that was still troubling me.
In the car, I asked Dad one remaining question. Given my own track record, was I fit to be a Serving Leader? He knew exactly what I needed to hear.
“We’ve all made mistakes and wasted lots of time and talent, Mike,” he said, reaching over to lay his hand on my arm.
“But mistakes aren’t the issue. What you do with them is the issue.”
I nodded.
“We’re all faced with three choices,” he continued. “First, we can pretend that everything’s always been just fine. If we make this choice, we have to spend all our time putting on a front for people, acting like we have it all together, and making up excuses for our meaningless lives.”
Dad let the point hang in the air. I was thinking about the times I’d behaved just this way.
“We become smaller people when we do this, Mike. We’re justified in our own minds but useless to anyone else.
“Second, and just as bad, we can destroy ourselves in lament and self-recrimination. We’ve wasted too much of our lives, it’s too late to get on track now, and so we don’t really deserve another chance to become really strong and great.”
This description, actually, fit my condition better than the first one, I realized. Dad had just cut to the quick of my fundamental struggle.
“Again, this is wrong and just makes us small. What good can a groveling, self-whipped soul be to anyone else?” he asked, the question needing no answer.
“And the third one, Dad?” I asked, trying to hide how desperately I needed to hear a better option.
Dad squeezed my arm. “Ask to be forgiven for the past, Mike. And then seize your future with all you’ve got. Join the team!”
It wasn’t clear to me if he was just giving me his third point or if he was giving me a command.
I liked it either way. I was ready.