WHO IS THE HERO OF THE STORY?

One of the dangers of being a story teller for a living is that sometimes we can make ourselves the hero of our own stories. It is a very dangerous path to be so self-absorbed. The stories of me must be told with accuracy. This includes both our successes and failings. Without truthful disclosure our history becomes mythology (or political and religious propaganda). Before I tell the story of this week’s column allow me to state clearly I am not the hero of the story.

I have the good fortune of telling stories about a man named Jesus of Nazareth for a living. In order to tell his story well I tell the stories of his interaction with myself, family, and friends. None of us are the hero of our ultimate story. Instead our hero is an out of sync carpenter turned itinerant preacher who rumor has it rose from the dead approximately 2,000 years ago.

This week I want to tell the stories of some teenage young men with whom I run, my son Caleb and his friend, Nat Ntumba. Caleb has journeyed with me for 13 years. Nat has been a family friend for the last 2 years our family has lived in Kigali. A lot has changed in those two years. Watching the events of these two young men the last few months has told me even more change is coming. Caleb and Nat are entering the prime physical years of a man’s life. Each week brings a new found physical strength. Their bodies are becoming the bodies of men. With these changes also come the discoveries of adulthood. It is a delightful journey to share with them.

For the last month I have been running every Monday afternoon with them. At the end we usually do an 800 meter lap around several blocks at the school they attend called Kigali International Community School. For the last 13 years of Caleb’s and my journey, I’ve always tried to run at a speed that was as fast as I thought Caleb could run. My hope was every time to push him to the outer reaches of his ability and encourage him to go just a little more each time. Usually we’ll finish running as fast as we can. I may even graciously let Caleb finish in front of me.

The last month things have changed with Caleb and Nat. Two weeks ago as we began our weekly run Caleb kept right behind me. In fact, I found the roles to be switching. It seemed he was the one pushing me to the far reaches of my ability. Our run has two minor hill climbs and I with more confidence than I should assumed that as we started running up the hills he would give out. Surely my legs were stronger and lungs fuller. I could beat Caleb on a hill. As we reached the end of our weekly run I found myself no longer doing the paced run of Caleb’s childhood, but instead running the last few meters with every once of my physical strength. I just barely finished our weekly race in front of him. Nat came just behind Caleb. As he did, I heard Caleb say, “I almost beat my dad.”

Maybe, these are the scariest words for a father to hear. Forty meets thirteen, and the eventual end of this earthly life is now in sight. My journey in the confines of this body has begun gradual descent. All I can do is fight for the descent to slow. Caleb is on just the opposite perspective. Each day brings a new physical opportunity. He is on the ascent. However, instead of disappointment in me or jealousy for his potential the season of life now says it is my time to cheer for his success. He must become greater while I become less. He will see and do greater than things than I if he chooses the path I place before him.

This week’s run brought another surprise. Nat decided my day had come. He ran in front of me and kept the pace. I thought, “O.k. Today is the time for Nat to learn about pace. Let me follow, but at the first hill I will catch him.” Instead, at the first hill he kept going. We turned around the block and started going down hill. Nat caught his wind before me and began running faster. I pushed to get closer, but saw little by little I was losing ground. However, there was one longer hill coming, and running hills is my specialty. I was confident the final hill would be my opportunity to show Nat I could still stay with him. Now it was a full sprint to the end knowing we would need to save nothing for reserve. Slowly I was gaining on Nat, but he had too much ground on me. We reached our finish line with Nat in front, me next, and Caleb just behind. Forty met thirteen, and thirteen won.

I could not help but congratulate Nat for an exceptional run. From now to the foreseeable future Nat would become faster. My last run of my life that was faster than Nat had been the previous week. It was thrilling to see his future.

As I looked at Caleb I realized my end with him was also in sight. Whether it was one more week or one more month, Caleb would soon overtake me. It was time to prepare for the inevitable. I must become less. He must become more. My role is to coach and cheer for his success whether our endeavor is a weekly run or something more.

So what is the point of this story of two teenage boys running with a middle aged man? Leadership is about relinquishing status and responsibility so that others can succeed. Whether it is our physical bodies or intellectual capacity at a certain point the inevitable decline begins. The younger must take the responsibility of the older. Hopefully, our age makes us wiser for the journey, and we become the coaches of life for our juniors to succeed.

However, some view leadership as a possession to guard. It is their hidden treasure and they refuse to disclose its secrets or plan for their succession. Term limits are their greatest fear. For some strange reason they are never able to conceptualize that eventually the younger will catch them. Their most enduring moment will not be their own victory, but the success of their protégé.

The hero of my story, Jesus of Nazareth, proposed many years ago that true leadership was in relinquishment. In fact, he only gave three years of his life to leadership. On the first year, he asked his potential protégés to follow. Near the second, he offered the serious ones an apprenticeship. By the third the inevitable was nearing, and he nurtured them with confusing words. They never quite seemed to get it, but in the end he gave them his full measure of authority and commissioned them to do more than he.

My challenge today is not to be the hero of your story. Instead it is to lead like my hero, Jesus of Nazareth.

Come run with me.