Only You

Life is full of tests. Some to demonstrate mastery of a subject at school, some to earn a professional designation, some to measure a physical capability and then there are the real ones that measure the state of your heart and story of your life. My friend Jerry Leachman gives a test in his book, "Brave Hearts, Strong Arms", and he calls it the hardest one you'll ever take. Write down your priorities. Then ask how much you'd pay or suffer for each one, and how much of your time each one really gets. Your calendar and your checkbook will tell you the truth.

Jerry once gave this test to a Harvard graduate who ran a $2 billion-a-year company and flew around the country in a jet. The man wrote down his children as one of his priorities. But when Jerry asked how much time he spent with them, the answer wasn't much. So Jerry took his pen and scratched them off the list. The man stood up at the table, furious. "How dare you tell me I don't love my children!"

Jerry told him he hadn't said that. He'd only said they weren't a priority. "What do I do?" the man asked…….. "Quit your job."

They went back and forth until Jerry asked if anyone else in the country could run his company. The man finally admitted that maybe ten people could. Then Jerry asked who else could be a father to his children. That stopped him. "Only me," he said. "I'm their father."

And he did it. He resigned, bought a smaller health care company that helped people with illnesses, and hired someone else to run it.

The next Sunday, Jerry was standing on the thirty yard line as the Chaplain with the Washington Redskins when his phone buzzed with a text: "50 yard line, gold box level." He looked up and there was the man, surrounded by his kids. Standing behind them where they couldn't see him, he reached over their heads and pointed down at Jerry. Jerry pointed back.

That story gets to me, because I know something about that man's list.

For many years, I felt as if my children hardly knew me. They got a performance version of me, or snippets of who I was. They saw me as a coach, a volunteer, a hardworking businessman, and the lawn care guy. But in the short moments of life when I wasn't playing a part, did they know me as Dad? As adults do they see me as a level four trusted friend? A vulnerable, imperfect man who carries hurt, fear, excitement, and passion, with a deep love for them, yearning for a connection that can't be broken.

Like God feels for me.

I'm still not always the best at this, but I'm working on it. Jerry says that God begins placing things on your heart, and those things are almost always part of your mission. I believe that. I also believe we can spend years walking past what He's placed there, because the other roles are easier to play and they come with applause. Paul gives me hope here:

The desire and the power. That ache you feel for your kids, your spouse, or the friend you've been meaning to call is no accident. God put it there, and He'll give you what you need to act on it.

Most of us don't need to resign from anything. But all of us have to decide what we really want, not just today, but when we look back at the end of our lives and see the whole story. Then we have to be willing to pay for it. There are plenty of people who could do your job. There may be ten. There may be a hundred.

Who else can be you to the people who call you theirs?

Only you.

Who in your life gets the performance version of you? What would it take to let them see the real one? Open your calendar and look at the last two weeks. How much time went to the people you listed first? Then pick one of them and do something about it today. Put the phone down, take them to breakfast, and tell them something true: a fear, a hope, or what they mean to you. What are your priorities…..