Preston Gillham

My friend Kevin died of cancer on Saturday, but he wasn’t just my friend. He had a lot of friends—praying friends—who are godly, righteous people. Certainly hundreds, if not several thousand, souls were imploring God to heal Kevin.

James writes, “The effective prayer of a righteous man can accomplish much” (5:16 b), which begs the question: Did Kevin not have any righteous people—or the requisite number of righteous people—praying for his healing?

A friend from another state called on Sunday to report that during their church service the pastor reported that “Sally’s” struggle against cancer was progressing toward victory. The cancer in her brain was gone and other, cancer indicators had declined by 50% over the last week. “Keep praying,” the pastor said. “Your prayers are working.”

Why are the righteous people praying for Sally experiencing success and the righteous people who prayed for Kevin suffering defeat?

Part of the answer lies in this: the definition of “accomplishes much,” from the James quotation. Someone we love, like Kevin, is diagnosed with a dread ill and we presume God wishes him healed. We pray, and we assemble teams of pray-ers, and we pray hard, fervent supplications for what we deem in Kevin’s best interest and our preference. At best, God will agree with us. More troubling, God is not paying attention to Kevin’s plight, but our prayers get His attention and healing occurs. Or…we conclude we are stuck with a God who doesn’t care, plays favorites, or is capricious. All are bad options.

What if accomplishing Kevin’s healing is not on God’s agenda? In other words, in His sovereignty, He knows healing Kevin is a bad plan.

We presume God agrees with our assessment, that healing is the right and best thing, and we effectively pray to that end. Then, when Kevin dies—and Sally lives—we question our fervor, our righteousness, and God’s fairness. When we are disappointed, we lapse easily into assuming we didn’t try hard enough, pray long enough, or assemble a formidable enough team to storm the gates of heaven and secure Kevin’s healing. Or, we are left with a God we would rather avoid.

And the devil has a field day in our disillusioned souls.

So why pray at all? If God is going to do what He’s going to do regardless of our prayers, no matter how effective, what’s the point?

At first glance, it would appear we should carefully define “accomplish much,” and once done, then pray successfully in agreement with God’s will and enjoy the control we derive by discerning the mind of God. I’m not buying that. When I pray like that it feels like I’m negotiating a real estate deal.

When confronted with Kevin’s cancer nine months ago, I went to my place of prayer: the streets in my neighborhood. I prayed, and said, “Father, what are you thinking?” I didn’t wait for His answer, but quickly got sidetracked by my shock and dismay and reverted to telling Father the outcome I desired with this bleak diagnosis. On this went: “Father, what are you thinking?”—but no break to let God answer, before—“Let me tell you what I’m thinking.”

I was persuasive. I asked for favors, pleaded for mercy, and bargained for healing. I hammered on the gates of heaven. I cried. I wailed. When I saw Kevin’s pain, I prayed more fervently.

You know what? This is typical, normal behavior for a friend who has gotten shocking, unpalatable news. It’s the rough equivalent of running around in a panic when the skillet on the stove catches fire.

Not long after Kevin’s diagnosis, my initial shock calmed, and I went to the streets and said, “Father, what are you thinking?” And then, I was quiet. I waited for His reply. Then, back and forth we went in dialogue about the concern at hand: Kevin’s health and the extenuating issues. This is the rough equivalent of realizing the skillet is on fire, gaining my wits, and managing the situation.

Here is my conviction regarding complex issues like cancer: Father wants us to tell Him what is on our mind. He wants to hear from us without edit. I believe He longs for an honest, forthright conversation with us. But take note: Conversation is a dialogue, not a monologue. If I do all the talking when God and I get together, we don’t get nearly as much accomplished as when we communicate.

I just hung up the phone from talking to my friend, WO. Man-to-man, friend-to-friend, adult-to-adult, WO and I discussed our loss with Kevin’s passing. Back and forth our conversation went: talk, listen; talk, listen. That’s how dialogue works. One way communication is called a sermon, or a lecture. For the most part, sermons and lectures are not very effective forms of communication. Interaction, on the other hand, is much more effective, meaningful, and powerful. This is what God desires. It is what we are equipped to do. It is what bonds us together.

Prayer is a dialogue. God, in Christ, made us righteous people so He could interface with us. The seizing of that reality affords us the effective ability to communicate with God. And make no mistake, that communication is a two-way street—a dialogue. This “accomplishes much.”

Our prayers regarding Kevin’s cancer were not in vain. How can visiting with God about a subject that is important, like Kevin, be considered pointless? Were you not inspired as you considered Kevin’s life? Were you not challenged to walk more closely with God as a result of discussing Kevin’s life with God and others? Are you not a better person after discussing Kevin with God?

I am, and in this way, my prayer did “accomplish much.” Effective prayer is not about Kevin or Sally or cancer or healing. The accomplishment is defined by God, and the only way to discover the definition, is to discuss it with God.

Do I miss Kevin? Terribly. Would I bring him back if I could? Not in a million years. Am I still discussing Kevin’s life and death with God in prayer? You better believe it.

Pres posting this.

Thank you, Reny, for keeping us focused and tribal. On Friday, five minutes before noon, I handed off “No Mercy” to Steve, my editor. You have been praying for him. As I write, he is hard at work.

Steve and I are proving to be a good team. You have prayed that we would be. Father heard, and answered.

The scope of our work together changes tenor and pace in this phase. The edits Steve suggested in the first edit were substantive, e.g. this character needs to be developed; this time sequence is confusing; this discussion is redundant; I suggest; let’s think about; what if you? The upcoming edits are line edits: punctuation, grammar, redundant word use, inconsistency, etc.

But Steve’s work is about far more than making “No Mercy” a showcase of literary style. In a nutshell, he is working to make “No Mercy” safe for me to publish and readers to read.

As you will soon see, “No Mercy” is a very personal book—to me and to the reader. One of my reviewers wrote, “At times I feel you have been allowed supernatural privilege to view the film that plays in my soul, and at other times I am almost embarrassed, as I feel I have been privileged to view yours!”

Poor writing creates insecurity. Think about riding in the car with a good driver versus riding with a poor driver: When you ride with a good driver you are free to enjoy, immersing yourself in your thoughts, discussions, daydreaming. But when you are with a hack driver, you are too distracted by his poor skills to do anything beyond worry if you’ll make it to your destination—alive.

Steve is laboring right now to ensure the readers of “No Mercy” will not feel they are in the hands of a hack writer. Rather, that they feel secure to immerse themselves—vulnerably—into the story and personally identify with the main character, Henry “Hank” Henderson.

As Reny has written to you, “No Mercy” is a book about connecting with God. It is a novel about encountering grace, succumbing to the tragedy of independence, and coming face-to-face with the mercy of your Heavenly Father.

You can readily see what Steve is up against for the next two weeks. Please intercede on his behalf accordingly. More on my next steps from Reny. She’ll be in touch with you early in the week.

Thank you for gathering around and praying. I can’t tell you how encouraged I am to be surrounded by the tribe.

Bless you,

Preston

Seth Godin writes in his blog today that he wants to hear my opinion. Based upon my reading of Godin, I imagine if he were my boss, he would want to hear my opinion—or my comment.

But leaders like Godin are not as common as they could be. Dianne and I have been reading through the book of Acts in the Bible. It is one leadership failure after another thus far.

Acts 5:17-18 says, “But the high priest rose up, along with all his associates (that is the sect of the Sadducees), and they were filled with jealousy; and they laid hands on the apostles, and put them in a public jail.”

Why did these leaders do this? They felt their job was in jeopardy and their authority in question. They were threatened, so they reacted. Poorly. Even after they hear wise counsel from a colleague toward the end of the chapter, they release the apostles, but not before flogging them.

Threatened folks threaten. An insecure individual is not a safe person. Leaders, like the rest of us, are prone to believe that maintaining is job one. However, this belief is rooted in insecurity and promotes threat.

Jesus taught that we are secure in Him—secure enough to accept opinion, receive counsel, consider alternatives, and that we are secure enough to lay our lives down on behalf of another.

As you read my posts from the last few days, you can practically hear frustration oozing from the lines. The technical glitch was ridiculous. Getting it resolved bordered on insane. But I persisted. The glitch is gone (I think).

I am persistent. Persistence has carried me up and over Paradise Divide on my bicycle—and back down in ensuing darkness, sleet, and cold. Persistence has guided me through multitudinous failure—and successful innovation. It coaches me through the constant, relentless, physical pain I suffer.

Not enough persistence—you’re beaten. Too much persistence—you are abrasive.

“What demarcates persistence from abrasiveness?” I prayed one evening as I walked the hood. Thoughts came that sounded like His voice.

Abrasiveness has embedded in it self-reliance, desperation, and demand—all driven by the fear that if I’m unsuccessful, I will be conquered. I will be a failure. I will be less than the glitch, system, or person that defeated me. I will be defined by loss. Or, defined by success, if by abrasiveness I win.

Abrasiveness believes I am defined by outcome. Persistence believes I am untouched by outcome—that I am declared accepted by my Father in heaven and that this identity is secured in/by Christ Jesus.

Given this, I am free to bring every resource—physical, intellectual, emotional, willful—to the task at hand. There is no cause to leverage myself upward with fear or self-reliance—believing I’ll be a better man if I win.

Persistence is bringing all I am and possess into life’s arena—all the time—confident I am secure in Christ.

When do I become abrasive? When I leverage and overstate and posture from the belief I will be better or worse dependent upon the outcome.

Dianne (my wife) and I want to introduce you to a dear friend, Reny Madjarska, and ask you to join her in forming a Prayer Tribe to pray for us and my nearly-completed book, “No Mercy.”

Reny and I worked together for eleven years at Lifetime Guarantee Ministries. She is talented, trustworthy, and has a vibrant relationship with God.

Reny came to college at TCU from her home, Bulgaria, in 1994. She was an atheist, a card-carrying communist, and on a full scholarship in Economics. Our Heavenly Father pursued her, won her heart, and she became a follower of Jesus Christ. She has since earned a MATh, a MBA, and is currently the CFO of a financial services company in California.

“No Mercy” is a work of fiction. It’s about connecting with God, what goes wrong in the process, and how to remedy the relationship.

As Dianne and I discussed with Reny some of our challenges, she offered to assemble a tribe of people to pray. This is where I hope you enter the picture. Would you join the Prayer Tribe and pray?

As I share with Reny, she is going to write to you and post to my website, PrestonGillham.com, under the “Life” column. If you sign up by clicking this link, you’ll see “Join the Prayer Tribe” in the right column. Reny will keep you focused.

Reny has expressed concern that she, whose third language is English, is posting to a writer’s website. I have encouraged her that you are meeting to pray, not judge her writing.

So you’ll know, as Reny writes she will sign her name to her posts. If my name is on a post, it’s from me.

Thanks in advance for joining us. If you want, please pass this invitation along to others.

You will see “Join the Prayer Tribe” in the right column of PrestonGillham.com.

Bless you,

Preston

That’s how Dianne and I read the Bible. More verses than that, for longer than a paragraph takes, has proven too formidable for us to enjoy success, let alone benefit.

Mornings are demanding—and we don’t even have kids. Yikes! The alarm goes off at 4:45. Di’s out the door at 7:00. No matter how hard we try to manage our minutes, by the time we get exercises done, showers taken, and breakfast downed the clock has precious few ticks left prior to take off.

For years we just acquiesced into the jaws of defeat. But then the idea of something—anything—being better than nothing registered. It seemed a good place to start was with a paragraph. And we did, and it worked. Very well.

Measurable goals. Achievable results. Blah, blah, blah. I know. Here’s the surprise: We are enjoying reading Scripture more than ever. And, we are getting great insight too. The bite-size chunks of Bible are allowing us to savor our paragraph like gourmets. It’s rich.

There is something to be said for an all-you-can-eat smorgasbord. But, there is also something to be said for a gourmet meal presented “just so” and relished bite-by-bite so each complexity bursts in your mouth.

I eat at both kinds of places, and I digest Scripture similarly. But in the mornings, Dianne and I savor the Scripture one paragraph at a time while we drink our fruit smoothie.

A lot of folks figure that if you are a follower of Christ and lead people that you are a Christian leader. That’s trite. Too simplistic, and therefore contributes to abetting the enemy’s tactic of rendering Christianity and Christian leadership irrelevant, distant, and out of touch.

One aspect of leadership is leading the way. You know, “Follow me.”

To split hairs, “follow me” doesn’t quite capture the proximity of leading people effectively. A person can follow from some distance. But if you say, “Join me,” or “Come with me,” the proximity implied in the invitation changes.

Leadership is not so much showing the way as it is taking people on the journey with you. Leadership is not only by example—follow me—but by affinity and by close proximity. You know: show, don’t tell.

I’ve been reluctant in my leadership-by-proximity because of the verses of Scripture that talk about not letting the left hand know what the right hand is up to, about doing your deeds in secret, about loss of reward, etc. Proximity of leadership and followership implies that the leader lets the follower into his leader’s heart and motivation and contribution.

Leadership can be abused by using its platform to garner praise and recognition. But, leadership can also have as its motivation taking others to new heights—new places—by example, and proximity, and sacrifice, and personal risk, and transparency, and by inclusion in the heart’s motive.

Showing the way with an inclusive, arm-around-the-shoulder proximity is the embracing of leadership by inclusion. I like that image.

Leadership by example alone is too distant. I can’t imagine Jesus calling to his disciples from a distance up the trail-of-life and saying, “Follow me.”

I think what he really meant was, “Come with me.”

Leadership is a delicate balance between building consensus and taking charge.

This week is not my own. I am sharing the kitchen, our bedroom, the bath, my study, and every other square inch of my world with my niece and nephew—ten and seven respectively. Since we are not their parents, Dianne and I are free to negotiate a few of the decisions, e.g. where to eat lunch, what’s for dinner, and which movie we watch over pizza.

Finalizing the pizza order ranks as one of my more difficult decision-making challenges. One person wants olives, one pepperoni. One wants extra cheese. One wants hamburger, one mushrooms, another peppers. No one wants it all at once, except Dianne. Since my job is to lead (and buy), it is also my job to build consensus so that when the pizza arrives we are ready to enjoy the movie.

On the other hand, just before entering the guitar center to purchase a microphone for my podcast, I took charge. I instructed on what we were about to see and do, what we could touch and not fiddle with, etc. and I did so with clarity that indicated there was no intent on my part to negotiate or seek consensus.

Leaders lead. Building consensus is about establishing mutual respect, valuing talent, and recognizing the ingenuity of other people in order to craft a course of action. Taking charge is about efficiency, safety, and security. Leadership is not either/or; it is both/and. Therein is the primary challenge.

We all want to be led whether we are children visiting our aunt and uncle, employees working for “the man,” or board members serving to achieve the greater good. Leaders know this, choose the correct style for the situation, and lead.

I’m not usually one to split hairs on film genres, but there are chick flicks and then there are chick flicks. If the only thing a movie has in it is romance, then it is a chick flick, pure and simple. But my world has expanded. My 10-year-old niece introduced me to a new concept: 10-year-old chick flicks.

Not only is our niece 10 years old, but the actors in “Little Manhattan” are 10-years old as well. I was prepared to slog through a poor movie, but there was a good fight scene, and the story was fun. But what was especially nice was our niece being with us, sitting between Dianne and me, building memories.

Reminiscing is one of the universal activities that bonds families. Most of the fun conversations, heartiest laughs, and greatest points of connection occur with a recounting of memories at reunions, around the dinner table, or sitting together after a family event.

One of these days, eating pizza and watching “Little Manhattan” will be one of the reminiscences that our niece and Dianne and I share. It will be part of the fabric that weaves our hearts and souls together and makes meaningful conversation likely. The 10-year-old chick flick is part of setting the stage for the coming years. As the future unfolds, our bond will tighten because we have built memories together.

And what is the secret ingredient? A quantity of time together. Nothing fancy, just a solid investment of time in each other.

As I find my bearings working from home, I am realizing that maintaining my priorities is proving more difficult than I anticipated. Just as I have been for the last 30 years, I am still my own boss. However, going to the office each day helped me define my work life and the rest of my life.

These days it is too easy to return to my writing desk after dinner, again after my evening walk, and again before going to bed. It used to be that I would sit by the fire in the winter. It used to be that I would sit on the patio in the summer. It used to be that I would sit in my chair and read a book for pleasure. I have discovered that since I began working from home these priorities have suffered.

Working from home requires discipline. Of course, there is the discipline to begin, but there is also the discipline to stop. For me, the latter is more difficult.

Knowing that the office work day ended at five o’clock provided the accountability I needed to tend to my priorities. As simple as it sounds, I am finding that the antidote to my priority dilemma is to set a well defined quitting time. For me, quitting time is signaled by the dinner hour. Once it is time to cook dinner, it is also time to shut down my work life and returned to real life.

The risks for failing to manage my priorities are profound. All of the things I used to do included my wife, but there is only one chair in my home study.

How are you managing your priorities?