Life and Theology

Pain hurts: a reflection on our miscarriage

benlreed — March 6, 2013 — 6 Comments

I originally posted this 2 years ago. My wife and I are coming up on the 2-year mark for this portion of our stories, but with the massive changes in our lives recently (I’m now on staff at Long Hollow), I wanted to share this again. Just so you know, this was, and is, a painful part of our story.

It wasn’t just a miscarriage. It didn’t feel like we were “losing a pregnancy.” It felt like we were losing a baby.

Those are the words I’ve uttered countless times to countless people. As the news eked in through little spurts of information from multiple ultrasounds and blood tests, what we feared became a reality. “It’s not a viable pregnancy” didn’t make the pain or reality disappear. It didn’t make the baby growing inside my wife any less of a human.

Earlier this year, my wife experienced the most pain we’ve experienced in our marriage. My wife processed it out loud on my blog HERE.

Though the pain wasn’t as visceral for me, it was no less real. Through the process, I learned some valuable lessons.

Lessons I learned through a miscarriage

Every life is a gift.

I value my own life, and especially the life of my won, so much more now. It’s so much more valuable.

Every life is miracle.

Seeing that this whole pregnancy/birthing process doesn’t just happen automatically has really helped me see how each and every birth is a great miracle.

Experiencing a miscarriage is a real loss.

Not that I didn’t understand this from a theological, academic standpoint. But going through it myself, experiencing that loss, has given me a greater understanding of how to minister to people who are experiencing this. We had talked about the difficulty of miscarriages in seminary. But it was all theory. And I know that someone doesn’t have to go through every difficulty before they can help someone else. But there’s a different weight, a different level of help, that you give once you’ve experienced the exact pain that another person is experiencing.

There’s no “getting over” this.

I dont’ think it’s possible to really “get over” this loss. You can move on. You can grow. But to think that you can “get over” this as if it never really happened is foolish. Anytime you experience significant pain, the answer in coping is learning how to deal with life differently, because life has been altered.

My wife and I are doing well. We’ve grown because of this. Grown in ways we probably wouldn’t have otherwise.

We’ve still not had the joy of getting pregnant again. Maybe God will see fit for us to head back down that path. But maybe not.

Regardless, we’re trusting Him.

*photo credit Creation Swap user: Joe Cavazos

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In Parenting, Theology difficulty, God, growth, loss, miscarriage, pain

Thoughts on love and loss

benlreed — March 5, 2013 — 10 Comments

_________________________________________________________

This is a guest post from my wife, Laura. We had a miscarriage earlier this year, and here are her thoughts moving forward. You can follow her on Facebook HERE, and the company she (and my wife and sister-in-law) created HERE.

image by Reggie Tiongco

I still remember the first time I saw our baby- all curled up on the monitor screen- the sweet profile of the head, nubs of arms and legs not quite developed. It was love at first sight. That was our baby. The one we has waited so long for. The one that made our Rex a big brother.

Looking back, the night we found out we were pregnant was such a bad time to take a pregnancy test. It was humorous really, Superbowl Sunday, people expected at our house any minute. I’m not really sure what I was thinking. With all of the negative test we had taken over those months, I knew whichever way the test went I would find it hard to be a good hostess. Maybe not knowing would have been just as hard.

I surely didn’t expect it to be positive. Oh, and the events following that night and it’s announcement. I have often tried to make sense of the purpose of that short life growing inside of me. It’s true, that through announcing our joy we were able have a heart-to-heart with loved ones- clear the air about where our relationship had been and where we all wanted it to be. And while I wouldn’t trade that sweet moment in their living room for anything, our baby was alive then.

Where is the meaning in the death?

My mother-in-law once told me that what she remembers most about that day was me. She said I looked so small and vulnerable on the bed in that big ultrasound room. I tried to be strong in that moment- maybe just optimistic. I’ve noticed that about myself- I’m always looking for a way to make things happen, even when I’m told they can’t. I just kept trying to tell myself that maybe the ultrasound tech was wrong. That once I saw my doctor she would be able to see whatever the tech couldn’t. If I were honest though, I think I knew that the life was gone. I had that sinking feeling since the beginning of the pregnancy. I prayed about it a lot, begging God to protect the life growing inside me. I pushed down the worries, thinking that buying maternity clothes and picking out names would magically change what I suspected might happen. As if we can DO anything to change what God has already written. That is, anything but pray.

The rest of March came and went in a blur of emotions. In some ways I feel like it flew by, in other ways it drug on and on. For the most part I guess I knew I was okay, but I wondered if I had really come to terms with my situation or if I was running from dealing with it. I guess both may be true.

It’s a funny thing about love and loss. There is hardly a day that goes by that I don’t think about the baby on that monitor screen. Not so much grieving the loss any more, these days I am mostly filled with questions:

Will I continue to have miscarriages or even be able to get pregnant again? Will I ever meet my little one? Know if I had a he or a she? Will I ever feel that baby in my arms, the way I now do with my sweet niece?

I’m sure that asking ten different professionals would yield ten different answers. And in a way, maybe the answers don’t really matter.

What matters is the journey through this time.

I surely cannot say that I am on the other end- but, I can say that the Lord is walking me through it.

And, while I don’t know all the ways He is working on me as a result of this experience, I know He is working. There is unbelievable comfort in that. He promises never to leave us or forsake us. He promises to work good for those who love him- making us more like Himself with ever step. Whatever the storm, whatever the situation, He is there and He is working.

There is no question in that.

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In Parenting death, grief, loss, miscarriage, pain

Helping our children learn obedience

benlreed — February 27, 2013 — 7 Comments

When I was a kid, my parents gave me an allowance. A huge, mind-blowing amount of money that left me spoiled rotten.

$2.50.

image credit: CreationSwap user Flip Ologenau

Even when I was a kid, that wasn’t much money. I remember my friends getting $5 per week. And other friends getting $10 or $20 for every ‘A’ they got on their report card. That made my $2.50 look puny.

But I loved getting it, nonetheless. I’d have my eye on a new video game, or a Reds cap, or a GI Joe, and I’d stash my money away in my top drawer and watch it grow. Ever. So. Slowly.

Every week, my dad would give me two $1 bills and 2 quarters. “Son, do what you want with this. But this (he’d say, holding up a quarter) is to give back to God.”

See, tithing is difficult enough. So my parents made it a bit easier by giving me money in denominations that were easily broken into percentages.

10% of $2.50 is $.25. Boom.

I’d take my $.25 and stuff it in the offering envelope, seal that thing up, and away we’d go. It became a habit, a regular part of my life. I grew to have a healthy understanding of money, and living generously. It was easier to give because:

The money didn’t feel like it was “mine” that I’d earned or deserved…it had come straight from my dad’s hands.
It went straight from my hand to the offering envelope.

Because giving became a part of my life from such an early age, even when I was older, and making money “of my own,” giving to my church was an expectation I had of myself. It wasn’t, and isn’t, easy (in fact, I’ve found in my life that making more money doesn’t guarantee that generosity is easier). But it’s much easier than if it hadn’t been built into my life from an early age.

I’m convinced that one of the major roles of parenting is teaching our children to learn to obey God. Not in an overbearing, exasperating, constantly hard-nosed kind of way. But in a way that is full of grace, mercy, and truth.

Obedience is hard you too, right? Whether it comes to obeying God in your finances, in your marriage, in your job, with the amount of food you eat or the kind of media you consume, obedience at nearly every level is difficult. We’ve got an enemy that prowls around like a lion, ready to devour us. (1 Peter 5:8) The same is true for our children. So let’s make it as easy as we possibly can for our children to obey us (and, by proxy, God).

Obedience isn’t easy, so don’t make it harder than it has to be. When it comes to tithing, our greed and proclivity to covet makes obedience especially difficult. Let your children see how easy it can be to give, helping them develop good, God-honoring habits early on in their life.

It is true:

Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right. – Ephesians 6:1

But parents, let’s do our part to make that as easy as possible. Don’t stop with financial obedience! Remove barriers, crack strongholds, and clear pathways in more and more areas of their lives.

Our children will thank us later.

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In Parenting bible, generosity, Parenting, tithe, tithing, wisdom

Coffee

benlreed — February 26, 2013 — Leave a comment

If this video doesn’t make you want a steaming cup of coffee, I don’t know what will.

Ever had coffee brewed in a Chemex? It may just be the best way to drink coffee. Some might even say that’s how God intended it.

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In Videos coffee

7 Leadership Lessons Pastors Can Learn from Building a House

benlreed — February 25, 2013 — Leave a comment

My wife and I are building a house for the first time. It’s the 2nd home we’ve owned, and instead of buying an existing house, we decided to build. People told us we were stupid for doing this. We were moving cities, changing churches, changing jobs, and starting all new relationships. And building meant we’d be living with my in-laws for a season throughout all of this change. (let it be known…my in-laws are saints for putting up with us for this long!)

This has been a fun journey, building our house. And I have learned a few leadership principles along the way. (if you’re a pastor, before you’re critical of me for devaluing theology to leadership, read my thoughts on what I wish seminary had taught me. The Gospel needs to be proclaimed, and its sustainability rests well on the back of good, solid, God-honoring leadership.)

7 Leadership Lessons Pastors Can Learn from Building a House

1. Trust, but don’t abandon.

I trust my builder to do the job right…but that doesn’t mean I just abandon him. I check in, almost daily. Not because I want to micromanage, but to make sure that we’re tracking in the same direction. To make sure that the extra plug we wanted has been put in. To make sure that the trim work was done up to par. The builder is great, but he’s just one person, and we’re in on this project together. Two eyes are better than one.

Pastoral leadership trust doesn’t mean you don’t give accountability, oversight, and direction. Management is essential in leadership.

2. Keep a constant stream of communication.

Working on our house, we have a developer, a builder, electricians, roofers, landscapers, other subcontractors, and various paid laborers. On top of that, we’re working on securing our loan, and there are 3 different people I’m working with there. Lots of streams of work are happening. Without a constant dripping of communication from me, things would quickly get off track, off schedule, and way out of whack.

Good leadership keeps open, active lines of communication moving. When communication seems to dry up, leaders drip water back in.

3. Document where you were so you can celebrate where you’ve been.

Along the way, we’ve taken pictures. We’ve got pictures of our empty lot, the slab, the frame, the guys on the roof, a skid-steer moving dirt in our front yard, and the concrete guys pouring our driveway.

Good pastors help people see where they, and the church as a whole, has been…and where you’re headed. It’s hard to celebrate what you don’t remember.

4. Always keep the end in mind.

Along the way, we’ve had to continually remind ourselves that this process will end in us moving into our home. If we didn’t have that end in mind, I’d go crazy. All of the checking in, the communication, and the pickiness would be worthless if we weren’t actually going to move in one day. I need that reminder!

Leaders help others see what the end goal is. In your church, that may be an increased community engagement, more small groups, an upcoming event, a new building, or student camp. Paint a picture and point people to it often.

5. Be picky when the goal isn’t exactly what you wanted.

Most of the time, the builder has hit exactly the mark we want. But on occasion, he’s missed it. Just the other day, I had to make a correction in our bathroom because something was out of place.

Don’t settle for less-than-perfect when it comes to your overall goal. There will be compromises that you have to make along the way, but at the end of the day, make sure you actually do accomplish the goal you set out for.

6. A little incentive never hurt.

I dropped the workers a little cash, and they helped me out with a little project in my garage. Happily.

As a leader, celebrate with people! Celebrate steps of faith. Celebrate God’s work in their lives. Because what you celebrate gets replicated. Thank, encourage, and…buy people a gift every once-in-a-while.

7. Don’t give up before the project’s done.

It would have been easy at times to just throw our hands up in the air because this project was taking too long, was too detail-intensive, and was too frustrating. With us being this close to the finish line, I’m thrilled we didn’t give up.

There may be times when you need to give up on certain portions of a project or an event, certain timings, and certain details along the way. But seeing a project to completion is the only real way you can learn what needs to be done better next time.

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In Church, Leadership

What real men do

benlreed — February 22, 2013 — 2 Comments

I asked this recently on Twitter and Facebook, and got some great response.

Real men _____.

I broke my list into two categories. The things that real men do that we puff our chest out about. And the things that, I believe, make us great.

image credit: Creation Swap, Todd White

Real men (read these while grunting like a caveman)

Drink their coffee black
Drink their coffee so strong you have to eat it with a fork
Hate cats and thinks they’re pointless.
Work in the yard.
Occasionally grow a mustache because they can.
Hate ‘browsing’ at the mall. Shopping = getting what you need and leaving.
Prefer charcoal to gas.
Love tobasco on everything. Everything. And will drink it straight from the bottle if called upon.
‘If it is ‘bacon-wrapped,’ it’s better.’ – men
Only cries while slicing onions.
Can drive a stick shift.
Yell at the tv when the ref gets the call wrong.
Will eat a jalapeño whole if the moment calls for it.
Never owns a juicer. (Or at least doesn’t admit it)
Love a good steak. Medium-rare.
Prefer their turkey deep fried.
Prefer their potatoes deep fried.
Prefer anything and everything fried.
Never eat ribs with a fork.
Never consider a salad a meal.

Real men (what makes a man great)

Put others first
Play with their children (wrestle with their boys. Play tea cups with their girls)
Are present with their family
Cherish their spouse
Have deep relationships with other guys
Worship God in their own way. (authenticity)
Spend way more time with their wife and kids than they do playing video games.
Ask for help when they need it.
Leads their family spiritually.
Takes steps of faith.
Serves their community.
Encourages others constantly.
Admits they’re weak.
Flee sin.
Cry out to God.
Realize they can’t do life alone.
Admit when they mess up.
Pray.
Find ways to be generous with their expertise.
Work hard at their job.
Work hard to serve their family. (Not just at their job)
Act silly with his children, looking foolish for a good laugh.
Spoil their children with an extra donut when mom’s not looking.
Watch a chick flick because he loves his wife.
Goes shopping with his wife

Anything you’d add?

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In Life theology, Parenting biblical manhood, men, serve

The Ben Nevis

benlreed — February 19, 2013 — 2 Comments

image credit: reypastor.org

Over spring break my junior year in college, I took a trip with a few buddies to Edinburgh, Scotland. We had a buddy who was studying there for the semester, and it made for a good excuse to travel halfway around the world to a country none of us had ever visited.

We saw the sites in London, stayed in hostels, visited the most famous golf course in the world, and climbed the highest mountain in the UK, the Ben Nevis. Standing a glorious 4,409 feet high, we knew we were going to dominate this mountain. When you’re a college student from Tennessee, that’s what you do.

My hiking attire:

A gray GAP, lightweight hoodie
Jeans
Tennis shoes

Between the 5 of us hiking that day, we brought 3 bottles of water, 4 energy bars, fruit we’d taken from the hostel where we’d just stayed, and a couple of handfuls of granola.

We weren’t really clued in to our unpreparedness, even though the hostel owner gave us that look, and said, “You’re going to climb the Ben in that?” Dumb, not-scared-of-anything college students, we pressed on.

About an hour into our ascent, I remember passing this couple who looked very “official.” They were decked out in North Face gear, rugged-looking boots, backpacks that could withstand a hurricane, and canteens of water that kept their water at just the perfect temperature for days. And they matched.

“You guys making it ok?” with the same look that the lady at the hostel had given us over breakfast. Apparently our “gear” gave us away. We all glanced at each other as if to say, “Don’t you say a word about how dumb we feel.”

“Yep! Ship shape!” I said. “We almost there?”

They gave a chuckle and continued trudging downwards past us.

When we finally made it to the top, we looked even more out of place. There were guys with ice picks. People donning full-face masks to keep out the cold. And guys with gloves so thick it warmed my hands just to look at them. I cinched my hoodie a little tighter around my face, and drank in the most beautiful site my eyes had ever beheld. Everywhere I turned, making sure not to slip off of the snowy ledge, I saw beautiful Scotland countryside. Mountain after mountain, separated by green valleys, sheep grazing to their heart’s content. Turns out, we crested the top on the only day that entire month where the clouds broke. It was as if God was smiling on our little ragtag crew.

All we could stand was ~30 minutes. We were all freezing. The snow had melted into my shoes, and I could feel the blisters pulsating. Time to head down. Most people gingerly and carefully made their way down the first 200 feet, which was covered with snow. Not our crew, though. We dropped to a sitting position and slid down. What took most people 10 minutes took us less than 15 seconds. I had to dig my heels in to keep from careening off of the side of the mountain (that’s no joke…I really thought I was going to be with Jesus in that moment), but we’d started our journey back.

I was miserable, but I tried to not let that show in my face.

Every person I passed, I’d give them a smile, and a quick,

“Hey, you’re almost there!”
“It’s worth the climb!”
“Don’t quit now!”
“Trust me, you’ll be glad you did this!”
“Just a few more bends and you’ll get the most beautiful view you’ve ever seen!”

With almost every person I spoke this to (minus the one guy that gave me the sink eye), I saw their face brighten a bit. I saw their shoulders straighten ever so slightly. They would stand up a little straighter. For some, the corners of their lips would curl in a tiny smile.

That’s what encouragement does. It speaks hope and life into places where death would love to take control. It breathes steps for someone else, and releases unknown burdens. It says,

This fight is worth it.
Don’t give up.
Your family needs you!
Your faith is worth it!
The prize is coming!
Not much further!
Now is not the time to quit!
I’ve been where you’re going…don’t stop now!

Somebody you know needs encouragement. Right now. They’re on the mountain, and they’re about to quit. They’ve stopped for a break, and they’re not going to start going again until they hear from you. They don’t know that, just ahead, the clouds are breaking. Only you know that it’s just a few more cut backs before they reach the top. Only you know the view ahead is breathtaking.

You may not be a mountain climber. I’m sure not. But a timely word of encouragement can change someone’s life.

Who can you encourage today?

But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called “Today,” so that none of you may be hardened by sin’s deceitfulness. – Hebrews 3:13

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In Leadership, Life theology, Theology ben nevis, encouragement, spring break

Why we love the underdog

benlreed — February 18, 2013 — 5 Comments

I’m a Cincinnati Reds fan. And I’m a Tennessee Titans Fan. And I root for the UT Vols. Which means I’m always a fan of the underdog.

My team tends to be the one that Vegas says, “Bet against.”

As a Reds fan, I grew up in “The Nasty Boys” era: Norm Charlton, Randy Myers, and Rob Dibble, the three-headed closing pitching monster that did the heavy lifting in the late innings for the Reds in the late 80s/early 90s. Throw in a little offensive power like Erik Davis, Chris Sabo, and Paul O’Neill, and you’ve got a lovable losers team worth rooting for.

Even with all of that, they were the underdog in the 1990 World Series against the A’s. Which made their sweep of the A’s even that much sweeter.

I love rooting for the underdog. The guys that everybody counts on losing. The guys that are counted out before the game begins. The team that nobody gives a chance.

And don’t we all love rooting for the underdog? It’s no secret that our culture loves movies like Remember the Titans, The Bad News Bears, and Rudy. We love shows like The Biggest Loser. Because there’s a part of us that wants the “unlovable” guy to win. That wants the big bully to lose.

But why do we really love the underdog so much?

Because we are the underdog.

image credit: abcnews.com

In life, we feel like we’re the guy at the bottom.

We are the underdog

We were the one who was picked on at school.
We were the one who picked on others because we were insecure in ourselves.
We were the one whose marriage was doomed to fail.
We weren’t the one “most likely to succeed.”
We were the ones that nobody thought would be a good parent.
We were the ones that almost failed out of shop class.
We were the ones that never could get the girl.
We were the ones that were made fun of.
We were the nerds.
The goof-ups.
The forgetful.
The lazy.
The cheap.
The funny-looking.
The ugly one.
The one with the broken family.
The one with the addiction.
The one that was slow.
The overweight one.
The one with the lisp.
The dumb one.
The one who couldn’t dance.

We’re not any different spiritually, either.

Spiritual underdogs

Spiritually speaking, we’re the underdog, too. The Bible says that we are

dead (Romans 5:12, 19)
disobedient (Romans 11:32)
dumb sheep (Isaiah 53:6)
Like a thorn (Micah 7:2-4)
worthless (Romans 3:10)
Not good (Luke 18:19)
Evil (Ecclesiastes 9:3)
dumb (Jeremiah 10:14)
unable to save ourselves (Colossians 2:13)

The Bible paints a picture of us not of ones who are on top of the heap, righteously fighting for the good of our souls. We’re made out exactly the opposite. And if we’re honest with ourselves, doesn’t life feel like this? As much as we try, we feel further from God. As hard as we work, life still doesn’t make sense. As much as we want to do the right thing, we stumble into the wrong thing. We’ve never drifted into doing the right thing. We continuously drift into that thing that we don’t want to do. (Romans 7:19)

The Bible doesn’t paint a picture of us that we haven’t seen before. We look at it in the mirror each and every day.

We love to root for the underdog because we are the underdog.

Which makes the grace of God that much more beautiful.

I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you.I am no longer worthy to be called your son; make me like one of your hired servants.’ So he got up and went to his father.

“But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and was filled with compassion for him; he ran to his son, threw his arms around him and kissed him.

“The son said to him, ‘Father, I have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be called your son.’

“But the father said to his servants, ‘Quick! Bring the best robe and put it on him. Put a ring on his finger and sandals on his feet. Bring the fattened calf and kill it. Let’s have a feast and celebrate. For this son of mine was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found.’ So they began to celebrate. – Luke 15:18-24

It’s time we embrace our weaknesses. And turn back to the God who saves the weak, the dead, the dumb, the blind, the maimed, the bleeding, the wicked, and the wanderers. And find He’s running towards us with open arms.

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In Theology dead, God, life, prodigal son, sin, spiritual, underdog

A leader’s focus

benlreed — February 13, 2013 — 1 Comment

Drops of dirty road water hurled themselves at the hem of my gym shorts as I rounded the corner. It was a chilly February afternoon, and I was almost halfway through with my jog. It happened to be my long run for the week, the final installment that week for my 13.1 mile training plan.

image credit: Shape.com

As I rounded the corner, I started down a longer, straight stretch, a slight downhill section that cut its way between a row of houses, cold rainwater zipping across the road as I splashed my way down.

I looked up, and in the distance I saw the next corner I had to round. It was over a half-mile ahead. For the next minute, that’s all I focused on, and as I did, I felt myself slowing down, physically and mentally, frustrated I wasn’t further down the road. Anxious about how far I still needed to pound. My legs were ready to quit, and my mind was nodding its head in agreement. Until I looked down.

I dropped my eyes for a moment and focused on the wet pavement in front of me, putting one foot in front of the other. Looking at the pavement, then at the next puddle, then at the next mailbox, I pressed onwards until, before I knew it, the corner I’d dreaded was already behind me. The music in my ears echoed on as I focused on the next step.

The focus of a leader

There are times when leaders need to look way ahead, dream big dreams, and help paint a massive, far-off-in-the-distance picture of the bigger-than-what-we-can-even-imagine future that’s coming.

But there are also times when we need to put our heads down, and help others see that next step. Forget “the big picture.” Forget “the dream.” Forget “where we’re headed.” Just help people take that next step. Help them to not lose focus on what’s in front of them, and celebrate small wins. To look too far into the future can be paralyzing, frustrating, and anxiety-inducing.

Even a small step of faith in the right direction is worth celebrating. We’re all in process. Don’t paralyze people by the scope of the road you point them down.

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. – Jesus, Matthew 6:34

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In Leadership, Theology big picture, dream, focus, jesus, Leadership, worry

Being called out from the pulpit

benlreed — February 12, 2013 — 8 Comments

It’s one thing to be “called out” in a general way because you’re convicted by Truth. That’s the work of the Spirit, and it’s a great thing (though in the moment we don’t always think so).

It’s another thing entirely when you’re specifically “called out” from stage, the sermon stopped, and you’re told “I hope if you’re going to be a preacher that everybody in the audience talks when you preach. You’ll reap what you sow.”

Ouch. (you’ll see that in the video below)

I was called out once for using an electronic Bible. That was fun.

Check out this clip.

Is it ever appropriate to call out somebody publicly, from the pulpit?

(HT: Todd Rhoades)

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In Church, Leadership larry smith, preacher

Lessons I learned through a miscarriage

Every life is a gift.

Every life is miracle.

Experiencing a miscarriage is a real loss.

There’s no “getting over” this.

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This is a guest post from my wife, Laura. We had a miscarriage earlier this year, and here are her thoughts moving forward. You can follow her on Facebook HERE, and the company she (and my wife and sister-in-law) created HERE.

image by Reggie Tiongco

Where is the meaning in the death?

What matters is the journey through this time.

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7 Leadership Lessons Pastors Can Learn from Building a House

1. Trust, but don’t abandon.

2. Keep a constant stream of communication.

3. Document where you were so you can celebrate where you’ve been.

4. Always keep the end in mind.

5. Be picky when the goal isn’t exactly what you wanted.

6. A little incentive never hurt.

7. Don’t give up before the project’s done.

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Real men (read these while grunting like a caveman)

Real men (what makes a man great)

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We are the underdog

Spiritual underdogs

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The focus of a leader

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