influencer

The World Changers are Living Just Next Door to Me

~ Paul Phillips ~ 1 Comment

There are evenings when the Lovely Lady and I retreat to our den, huddled or sprawled—whichever—in our comfortable corners, and chew bubble gum. Well, it’s not real bubble gum; that stuff wreaks havoc on the dental work at our time of life.

The bubble gum we chew is of a more enigmatic character. Mental bubble gum, I like to call it. Time-wasting programs on the television; game shows or travelogues, sometimes a murder mystery.

Why the term bubble gum? The similarity must be evident to even the most unconcerned of observers; something to occupy the facilities, but not to overtax their abilities. No actual tasting and swallowing (and certainly, no nutrition), simply a repetition of motion and result, until finally, there is no desire left for the tasteless pap.

On this evening, however, I sat up and listened. Virtually speaking, we had traveled with the host of a certain travelogue to the islands of Scotland. Being of Scots-Irish descent, I thought perhaps I might learn something of interest. And, strangely enough, I did.

You may have heard the story before, of the struggles of a Scotsman named Calum MacLeod, living out his life on the island of Raasay, just to the east of the more well-known Isle of Skye. A crofter (one who makes a living off the land, usually as a tenant farmer) and a lighthouse keeper by trade, he and his neighbors saw the government build good roads on the more populous southern end of the island while they still had to walk the final two miles to their homes and farms from the northern end of the road.

In the mid-1960s, at the age of 56, Calum decided one day that, in the absence of help from the government, he would remedy the inequity himself. For most of the next 10 years, he single-handedly built a road for the last mile and three-quarters to the settlement where he and his wife, among others, lived and farmed.

With no better tools than his pick, shovel, and wheelbarrow, and aided by the knowledge gained from an engineering manual he purchased, Calum (when he wasn’t working at his other jobs) dug, and carried, and laid a roadway that could be traveled by car to an area hitherto inaccessible to most vehicles.

Today, Calum’s Road stands, a testimony to one man’s desire to have a positive impact on his world. A mile and three-quarters of single-lane roadway leading to a place where, when it was completed, only he and his wife still lived.

A world changer, I call old Calum. Claims of empty conquest aside, his indomitable resolve and plodding triumph will etch his name indelibly into the list of those who leave this world better than they found it.

Recently, I read an article written by a friend about another world changer, Percy Spencer. You too can read about Mr. Spencer here: 5 Lessons from a World-Changer.

It’s a story about a man who had a chocolate bar melt in his pocket. Now he’s a world changer. Strange, that.

The thing is, Mr. Spencer’s reaction to the melted chocolate bar was to develop a device now present in most homes in our country, and indeed, many around the world. Yesterday’s coffee—the eye-opening potion I drink from my mug while I wait for a fresh pot to brew each morning—is steaming hot in seconds because of the microwave oven. My lunch of last night’s leftovers is a snap to prepare inside this electronic box. No muss, no fuss. Set the time, wait a few seconds, and eat the hot food.

World changer. He is that. Because of a melted chocolate bar, and his response to it. Read the article.

World changer. It’s a strange term.

We both love and hate world changers.

They are our heroes and our villains, our ideal and our reproach. They are always people who do big things in a big way that transform the pattern of life on this planet.

Or, are they?

We have been programmed in our day and age to accept the fact that some humans—a very small number of us—are world changers, stars if you will, while most are only extras, wandering the movie set in search of our opportunity to get an autograph or a selfie with one of these celebrities.

The programming is a lie.

I would suggest that I know no one who is not a world changer. Every one of the people I see as I walk downtown, through the park, around the university, and on the country roads is a world changer in their own right. And yes, all the people of Walmart are world changers.

I am a world changer.

You are, too.

I hope it makes you feel good. It did me—for a few seconds.

The reality is that none of us lives in a vacuum, a sterile environment where others are unaffected by our actions and our words. We change the world around us by reacting and responding, by speaking and acting, by turning away or by our involvement.

Every single word. Every single action. Potential world changing events.

Dramatic, isn’t it? I don’t intend it to be. Over the top, I mean.

But, if you will stop and think, all of history is an amalgamation of the results of words and actions, most of which the author thought insignificant as they were initiated, but some of which were premeditated to bring about the desired result.

Regardless of the intent, the world is constantly being changed by insignificant (and significant) choices, leading to action and to communication.

Oh. Now, I don’t feel so good.

I’m remembering some of the horrible words I’ve said. And, some of the despicable deeds I have committed.

What if those are the world changing footprints I am going to leave behind? What if they—or even, just one of them—become the thing for which I will be remembered?

Or worse, what if those vile actions and words convince just one person to abandon his or her search for God’s truth for their life? And that person convinces just one. And that person…

This being a world changer isn’t at all what I had hoped it would be! What a burden!

I wonder though.

He—the One we claim to follow—promised a light burden and an easy harness (Matthew 11:28-30). Perhaps, I make the task more difficult than it really is.

Are we not all then, world changers?

We are! Of this, there can be no doubt.

The reality is we are changed to bring change.

We reflect what has shined into us. The Light of the World cannot be overcome by the darkness. And, He has shined into our hearts, we who come to Him in faith.

Light, we are.

And salt.

World changers.

Using whatever tools He has placed in our hands, and whatever words He has put into our mouths, we are called to change forever the flavor and the beauty of the world through which we walk.

It’s okay to feel good about it.

Even if we’re only pushing a wheelbarrow filled with tools.

They will serve. To build roads.

To change the world.

 

 

We never know which lives we influence, or when, or why.  Not until the future eats the present, anyway.  We know when it’s too late.
(Stephen King)

You are the salt of the earth. But what good is salt if it has lost its flavor? Can you make it salty again? It will be thrown out and trampled underfoot as worthless. You are the light of the world—like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your good deeds shine out for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father.
(Matthew 5:13-16, NLT)

 

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2019. All Rights Reserved.

 

Influencers Influenced

~ Paul Phillips ~ Leave a comment

You’d think sitting in the seat of the bulldozer would be more comfortable.

The big man in front of me loves his work.  All his life, he’s run machines—big, get-your-attention, powerful pieces of equipment.  He has leveled mountains, and filled valleys, eliminating the vast differences between the two.  Rotting, uninhabitable houses have been knocked over, and foundations built up for impressive new edifices.

bulldozer-1178029_1280

Talk about influencers!  In forty years, he has never left a work site in the same condition as when he arrived.  Not once.

Hmmm.  I’m not sure I said that exactly as I intended.  If you re-read that last paragraph, you might actually think I was talking about the man not leaving in the same condition.

Funny how words work, isn’t it?

The site is never the same.  It’s perfectly true.  On some days, you wouldn’t recognize the parcel of land as the same location, it has been changed so much.  Structures razed, boulders moved, trees uprooted—nothing remains untouched.

But, read what I said again.  In forty years, he has never left a work site in the same condition as when he arrived.

I realize a grammarian would wish to speak of the ambiguous antecedent and direct me to clarify the sentence.  I think I’ll leave it as stated.

No, I’m not just being stubborn.  The thing is, both ways of reading the sentence will lead to a correct conclusion.  

It is true the work site is always changed—every time he alights from the seat of his equipment.

But, it is also important to note that the man himself is affected—without fail—by the work he has done.  

For you see, every bump, every dimple in the ground under that powerful machine he controls impacts him.  Tossed from side to side by the motion of the dozer or grader, his back muscles stretch and contort, endeavoring to keep him upright in the seat.  

Day after day, the up and down motion—the back and forth assault—the sudden jolts and sudden stops, all of them conspire to make him a different person.

He feels it—from the soles of his feet to the top of his head, he feels it—the influencer influenced and, on some days, the leveler leveled.  Going home to lie down, he counts the bruises and sore spots.

Every time he walks away from a work site, he is changed.  The work site is too.

Did I tell you he loves his job?  He still does.

Do you want to change your world?

Prepare to be changed, yourself.

I will tell you, I have watched folks who were intent on impacting their world be folded, spindled, and mutilated.  Some have recovered.  Others surrender, giving up their dreams and, sometimes, even their faith.

I have seen friends working steadily—day after day, year after year—aware of the damage done to themselves, yet slogging on toward the finish line.  Goodbyes, diseases, physical need—all take their toll, yet all they see is the vision.

If anyone told you it was easy, they lied.

Nearing the time of His own death, the Teacher told His followers openly of the coming trouble, trouble which would devastate them personally. Then He said a strange thing.  It didn’t fit with the warning they were hearing.

I have told you about these things so you would be at peace. (John 16: 33a)

Wait!  He told them about terrible things which were in their future and then claimed the words should inspire a calm spirit?  

How does that make sense?

I sit and think.  Warnings are intended to instill fear and respect for danger, not peace.  Not calm.

But, in all that intense group of burly, seasoned men sitting around Him, I can’t imagine that at least one of them didn’t recall the storm they had been through as they crossed the sea in a fishing boat together some time before. (Mark 4:35-41)

With the lightning flashing and wind gusting, their Teacher had simply spoken three words.

Peace.  Be still. 

To the storm, He spoke those three words.  To His followers, the ones being molded and affected by hardship—five were needed.

Why are you so afraid?

In that whole group of men who sat and listened on that night to the Teacher who would be Savior, right before the world fell in on them, do you suppose any of them missed His meaning?  I doubt it.  

In this world, while you are shaping and influencing it, you will be shaped and influenced.  Don’t be terrified.  I have overcome the world. (John 16:33b)

Do we attempt to change the world in which we live?  

It will attempt to change us.  

In subtle ways, regardless of how hard we try—despite our best intentions—it will change us.

It will hurt us.  It hurt Him.

And yet, can we—just for one instant—can we consider the ultimate Influencer?

Greater.  Greater than any influence in the world.  

In us—still greater.

Change your world.  For good, change your world.

And, don’t fret.  

Peace.  Rest.

You might fasten your seatbelt though.  

The ride is likely to be a little bumpy.

 

 

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.
“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
(from The Fellowship of the Ring ~ J.R.R. Tolkien)

 

As you know, we count as blessed those who have persevered. You have heard of Job’s perseverance and have seen what the Lord finally brought about. The Lord is full of compassion and mercy.
(James 5:11 ~ NIV)

 

 

 

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2016. All Rights Reserved.

Bellwether

~ Paul Phillips ~ 2 Comments

Every day, my mail box has a smattering of the notices.  I’m being followed.  Again.  And, then again.

I glance at the messages and click the button to relegate them to their proper domain.  Twitter.

I don’t understand Twitter.  I tweet a message and hope it will be noticed by my followers.  It rarely is.  On those rare occasions when someone likes a tweet or perhaps even retweets it, the result is short-lived.  If they’re actually following, they’re not following far.

I’ve finally figured out my problem—I’m not an influencer.  I didn’t realize until just a few days ago that I needed—or even wanted—to be.  Now I want it so badly I can almost taste it.

Influencer.  The description often follows the twitter handle—the name by which one is known in that strange social universe.  I’m not sure how one gains the title, but I want it.  The title carries weight; it has gravitas.

I don’t have gravitas.

I want to be an influencer.  Followers would actually follow.  People would value my input.  My opinions would matter.  I could make a difference.

Alas.  Influencer is not in my resumé.  Not on Twitter, anyway.

But, I’m wondering tonight—am I an influencer already?  Maybe the Twitter universe isn’t the only place that matters.

I came across a poem the other day which used a word I thought I didn’t know.  The poem spoke of a flock of sheep following one specific sheep home to where food and shelter lay waiting.  It called that one sheep a wether.

A wether?  What’s that? I searched my memory.  Wait!  No, it couldn’t be.  I’ve heard of a bellwether.  I wonder if it has anything to do with that?

BellwetherSure enough, the wether is a neutered sheep, usually an older one, that the shepherd trusts to lead the other sheep. Out to the fields where sweet pasture is to be found—then, back home again to safety and rest. The bell goes around its neck to let the shepherd find the flock any time they are on the move.  Bell—wether.

Ah.  The light comes on.  A bellwether is an influencer.  An influencer.

I want to be a bellwether.

But—and there is always a but—I’m wondering about a couple of little issues.  Well, just one actually.  And, of necessity, this part of the discussion may be a little earthy, perhaps even crude.  It must be.

You see, the wether is neutered.  Always.  A high price, one might think, for the privilege of leading the flock with a bell around one’s neck.  The fact is, the shepherd will not trust a ram with the flock.  Rams tend to be a bit self-centered, intent on doing what male sheep do.

Leaving for the moment, the earthy part of this discussion, one might wonder how it enters into the conversation at all.  We’re not, after all, going to be physically, nor even emotionally, neutered in our quest to be leaders or influencers.  

What is the point?

Simply put, in order to lead, to influence, without doing so in a self-serving and self-aggrandizing way, we will have to make a conscious decision to fulfill the role of the bellwether.  

In our case, there can be no consideration of taking advantage of those who follow or are influenced. We don’t get to personally advance our station or reputation as we serve.

Let this mind be in you then, which was in your Shepherd, who gave up His right to the green pastures of His Father’s land, to come and be one of you, going so far as to be slaughtered in your place.  (Philippians 2:5-8)  Sorry, the words are a little mangled, but you will see the meaning is nearly unchanged.

Our Savior, the Shepherd we follow, specifically and with purpose, gave up His claim to all rights and privileges so that He might lead us into His sheepfold.

How do we dare attempt to influence His people with any less assurance of selfless intent?

How could we even think that any person who is led by our influence might be called our follower, and not His?

If I want to influence, if I want to lead for Him, it will be on His terms.  

Not mine.

We don’t like to talk about this.  Our service requires the end to our self-centered plans, our platforms, our brands.  

And the Shepherd said, If any man wants to be my follower, he will deny himself, taking up his  own cross daily, and actually follow me.  (Luke 9:23)

Whoa!  I have to wear the bell.  And, I have to fulfill my calling with no intent on my part to benefit from it.

It is what He did.

I think I might be willing to wear the bell for awhile.

Influencer?

Bellwether?  

Perhaps someday.

Meanwhile, we all still follow the Shepherd—and He still leads us to good places.

Time to head for green pastures—maybe even some still waters.

You’re coming too, aren’t you?

 

 

 

 

My sheep hear my voice, and I know them, and they follow me. 
(John 10:27 ~ ASV)

 

Every one comes between men’s souls and God, either as a brick wall or as a bridge. Either you are leading men to God or you are driving them away.
(Canon Lindsey Dewar DD ~ Scottish Rector)

 

 

 

© Paul Phillips. He’s Taken Leave. 2016. All Rights Reserved.