Broken Kings
When faced with something profoundly painful, it’s sometimes tempting to avert your eyes, but it’s the work of God to see a thing.
However, once you’ve seen something, you become responsible for holding the weight of that understanding. Perhaps it’s best to avert your eyes, avoiding the nuances and the pain. Maybe if it’s not seen it can be tidy and clear, sparing you from wading into the unfathomable mess.
Still, it remains the work of God to see a thing.
What does it take for someone to accept the responsibility of leading a group of wanderers? Maybe it demands vision and a smattering of naive arrogance. I think I have those traits - arrogant enough to think I can lead effectively, and naive enough to think I’m right about it. Unfortunately, I’m starting to understand that it’s not as easy as that. Watching men buckle under the weight of it all is certainly eye-watering, to say the least.
When I say ‘buckle,’ I don’t mean to imply a weakness of the knees, I refer to the burden on one’s back. It’s a weighty thing to set your eyes on some great vision in the distance, to hold the course, and herd a group of wanderers toward the same lofty goal that maybe only you can see. Ever seen someone try to herd cats? No? Perhaps there’s a reason for that.
But it almost certainly is also about a weakness in the knees, because no man can carry that weight alone. It was never intended that way. Throughout centuries, writers have explored how leaders are flawed, require guidance, support, and sometimes realignment. But equally important is how leaders also deserve praise, recognition, and the uplifting support of comrades.
Walking through Budapest in the middle of winter is an exercise in optimism. The long-anticipated cold weather has settled in for the long haul, and the twinkle of Christmas lights is slowly fading. The river mirrors varying shades of grey, reflecting skies that rarely part for the sun. Writing New Year’s resolutions in this subdued setting becomes a test of fortitude rather than the usual effortless flow that used to spill out onto the pages while reclining on a sunny shore in New Zealand.
But, this year, one of my resolutions will be to steadfastly lift the arms of those who are called to lead.
Maybe one day I will have the privilege of God’s work in me allowing me to see a thing for what it is. But in the meantime, I promise not to avert my eyes.
