Faith, Leadership, and History

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies.”  Picture this…its Taco Tuesday, you’ve sat down, and with a street taco in each hand, you look across the table, and just a few feet away, there your nemesis sits, giving you that certain hangry look.  Or perhaps, without a care in the world, you are about to cut into that perfectly cooked steak, and there, across the dinner table, sits your foe.  Not a very pleasant image, is it? 

As a boy, George Washington copied a list of Rules of Civility and Decent Behavior in Company and Conversation, originally published by French Jesuits.  It is an interesting read if you get past the old English vernacular.  There are 110 rules to live by, ranging from how to talk to others, to general etiquette.  Among the 110, there are 19 rules that deal specifically with eating and drinking in the presence of others.  Here are a couple of them (copied as they are written):

                  Rule #97 – Put not another bit into your Mouth til the former be Swallowed; let not your Morsels be too big for the Gowls.  (**In other words, don’t be a chipmunk and stuff as much food in your mouth as you can.)

                  Rule #91 – Make no Shew of taking great Delight in your Victuals, Feed not with Greediness; cut your Bread with a Knife, lean not on the Table, neither find fault with what you Eat.

And my favorite:

                  Rule #90 – Being Set at meat Scratch not neither Spit Cough or blow your Nose except there’s a Necessity for it.  (**Yeah, no one wants to sit next to an individual blowing their nose, so don’t be that person.)

Would Washington have held to the same dining standards during a meal with Thomas Jefferson in Philadelphia as he would with British General Cornwallis at Yorktown.  Since people lived by a different code in his days, there is no doubt that yes, he would have treated enemies at the table just as he did friends. 

At the very core of this image of eating in the presence of one’s enemies though, is that God is providing protection in one of our most vulnerable moments.  He is in the personal bodyguard business.  In David’s time, the host of the meal was responsible for the well-being and safety of all guests.  So, David is saying that God, who is the host, will provide that protection while gathered around the table…the guest is not to be worried.

In an environment today where it seems some people cannot possibly get along with each other, perhaps we should start gathering around the dinner table and let God bring us together.  Let food be the common ground…and again, don’t be that coughing, spitting, nose-blowing complainer with food-stuffed cheeks.  Just don’t. 

He was America’s first superhero.  He predated Spider-Man, Captain America, Ironman, Thor, and every other Marvel comic character.  He came before Superman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, Green Lantern, and all of the DC comic heroes you can name.  He did not wear a symbol or letter on his chest.  He lacked any superpowers gained from an insect bite, chemical spill, or mutant gene.  He wasn’t from an alien planet.  He didn’t have any cool tools of the trade like the batarang, bat-laser, bat-shield, or bat-scope.  He didn’t get around town in a batmobile, bat-plane, bat-boat, bat-cycle, bat-copter, or have an underground cave where he parked all these amazing bat-vehicles.  And he didn’t have a really awesome utility belt that held, among other things, universal bat-pills, designed to cure everything.

No, George Washington did not have any special equipment.  However, what he lacked in that department, he more than made up for in courage.  

“Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death….”  On July 9, 1755, George Washington was serving as an aide-de-camp to General Braddock of the British Army, as they were attempting to clear out the French army in the region.  The target this day was Fort Duquesne, a French stronghold that lay between the Allegheny and Monongahela Rivers.  The French, accompanied by Canadians and Native Americans, waited patiently until the British army came within 10 miles, then attacked full force.  For three hours the French poured every effort into defeating the invaders.  It was an exceedingly intense battle…but it was largely one-sided.  The British were surprised and suffered nearly 1,000 soldiers, including General Braddock.  Washington, for his part, had two horses shot out from under him.  With Braddock mortally wounded, leadership of the British army was handed to Washington, who had no choice but to order a retreat.  His calm resolve helped save many British troops from certain death.  After the battle, Washington noticed that his overcoat had four bullet holes in it.  In the valley of death, his life had been spared.  Was it luck?  Or divine protection.  Washington believed the latter.

Three years later, Washington returned to the valley of death, this time with General John Forbes, to once again attempt to drive the French from the region.  It takes great courage to return to the scene of what should have been your death.  But there Washington was, right in the middle of the fray, and on one particular night, British soldiers mistook another British unit for the French army and began firing into their ranks.  Washington recognized what was happening and rose along one of the lines hitting their muskets with his sword, yelling for the firing to stop.  Once again, Washington risked everything in the height of battle.  And once again, Washington avoided certain death.

Nelson Mandela reminded us, “Courage is not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it”.  This helps when we walk through those moments where it seems natural to be afraid.  But we don’t have to remain there…we can dig deep and let courage break the surface and take over our thoughts and actions.  Only then can we honestly agree with David and say, “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.” 

The second part of that verse goes like this: “For you are with me; your rod and staff they comfort me.”  This is the reassurance that, just as sheep experience protection by way of the shepherd and his rod and staff, God protects his followers from harm from outside and from within.  Even when we, like sheep, don’t realize we are on danger, God steps in and saves the day…making the bullets of life, that mean to take us out, miss.  Then, when we take the time to focus on the valley we just traversed, we are astonished to see the holes in our overcoat.

Dateline: 7 September, 1774.

Location: Carpenters’ Hall, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

The Reverend Jacob Duché stands.  All eyes are on him.  What he is about to do has been a topic of discussion and debate for several days among those gathered.  We’ll get to that in a moment.  If you study early U.S. history enough, you begin to see common threads of faith interwoven through who we know refer to as our nation’s founding fathers.  There is some discussion that John Adams, his cousin Samuel, Patrick Henry, Roger Sherman, John Jay, George Washington, and others were not individuals who held particular faith beliefs.  But nothing could be further from the truth.  What the good reverend says sets the bedrock for the First Amendment.  No, these men certainly did not distance themselves from their faith.  They embraced it.

The good reverend begins, “O Lord our Heavenly Father, high and mighty King of kings, and Lord of lords, who dost from thy throne behold all the dwellers on earth and reignest with power supreme and uncontrolled over all the Kingdoms, Empires and Governments; look down in mercy, we beseech Thee, on these our American States, who have fled to Thee from the rod of the oppressor and thrown themselves on Thy gracious protection, desiring to be henceforth dependent only on Thee.”  This was only the beginning.  Duché continued with requests for harmony, peace, truth, justice, and blessings…and closing this first prayer of the First Continental Congress with this – “All this we ask in the name and through the merits of Jesus Christ, Thy Son and our Savior.”  No, these men did not shy away from their faith as some might want us to believe.

I have already pointed out that Washington did not shy away from faith in God, but what exactly did he say about the subject?  On numerous occasions, Washington would write, “On my honor and the faith of a Chistian…”.  In another moment, “To the distinguished Character of Patriot, it should be our highest Glory to add the more distinguished Character of Christian”; and as on countless diary entries quoting from The Book of Common Prayer, such as this entry from April 3, 1768, “Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us…”.  One more example – in one of his General Orders Washington writes, “The General hopes and trusts that every officer and man, will endeavor so to live, and act, as becomes a Christian Soldier defending the dearest Rights and Liberties of his country.”

So, that is what Washington said, but what did he do?  For starters, he insisted on conduct based on the scriptures.  He did not allow swearing or drunkenness, and when not on duty, soldiers were expected and required to attend church services.  To help facilitate this, Washington instituted chaplains in each regiment of the army.  Additionally, he called on his soldiers to observe a day of fasting, humiliation and prayer.  In other words, Washington was focused on this thing called righteousness.

David makes the declaration that God “leads me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.”  What exactly does that mean?  At its foundation, those words picture an individual living a life centered on God and his principles, committed to his promises, and desiring to make known to others that message.  It is not enough to seek this path and be content that you are on it.  It is also dependent on showing others what it means to walk those paths of righteousness, for what other purpose did David record these words if not to tell others?  Solomon, David’s son, would later write, “A righteous man hates lying”; “Righteousness guards him whose way is blameless”; Righteousness leads to life”; the desire of the righteous is only good”.  These were all properties of a life of faith that Washington lived and wanted others to live as well.

Again, Washington understood the importance of faith in one’s life.  It powered his decision making and his leadership style.  He not only desired an army equipped with the necessary tools of war, as evidenced by his multiple letters to Congress asking for supplies, he also desired an army equipped with the tools necessary to walk the paths of righteousness.  In 1776, Washington reminded his soldiers , “to implore the Lord, and Giver of all victory, to pardon our manifold sins and wickedness’s, and that it would please him to bless the Continental Arms, with his divine favour and protection—All Officers, and Soldiers, are strictly enjoined to pay all due reverence, and attention on this day, to the sacred duties due to the Lord of hosts, for his mercies already received, and for those blessings, which our Holiness and Uprightness of life can alone encourage us to hope through his mercy to obtain.  

In other words…paths of righteousness.

It was Christmas 1776 and General Washington boldly stood in the bow of the boat as it made its way across the Delaware River.  Surrounding him are several men rowing and steering the craft around chunks of ice.  There is even one soldier half-way out of the boat pushing against one of the large “icebergs”.  And then there is future President James Monroe grasping the American flag, battling the wind and cold.  It is indeed a dramatic scene…one that would make a great centerpiece for an IMAX movie, with amazing THX surround sound.  Yes, it would be remarkable… if it were true.  This scene instead, was captured in a painting by Emanuel Leutze.  Oh, for sure Washington crossed the Delaware on Christmas, leading his army to victory the next day against British and Hessian forces camped in and around Trenton, New Jersey.  None of that is disputable.  Were there ice chunks?  Absolutely.  It is well documented that it was.  And it was extremely windy, making the water very rough to row across.  But Washington surely was not standing in the striking pose as he is pictured.  The weather conditions would not have allowed it.  No, these certainly were not still waters.

A year later and once again the weather is not playing nice for Washington and the army.  It is the winter at Valley Forge, and the general has his hands full.  He spends an exorbitant amount of time communicating with Congress (yes, the same Congress that would slow walk five years of pay for soldiers) about the lack of supplies, and empowering other generals to help better prepare the army for the springtime campaigns.  By the time Spring arrived, however, nearly 2,000 men had died from disease on those snow-covered, fields.  No, these certainly were not peaceful, green pastures.

Back in Psalm 23, David tells us that the Lord makes those who follow him to lie down in green pastures.  So, are we take this to mean that God is forcibly pushing individuals to take a break and lay down?  Absolutely not, but rather he leads those into moments of much needed respite.  In fact, the next words David writes is how the Lord “leads me” beside still waters.  Why does David use these particular imageries to convey the message of peace and tranquility?  Perhaps because we are drawn to such scenes.  

I know when I personally need to think peaceful thoughts, I close my eyes, and in my mind, I see Julie Andrews running around with seven kids with weird names, dressed in clothes made from window curtains, singing “doe, a deer, a female deer”….I really don’t, but that makes an interesting thought.  But seriously, who doesn’t love clothes made from household draperies?  And those hills, which, by the way, are alive (at least that is what Maria sings), are probably not even a pasture, but whatever.  I’m the one telling the story, so it’s a pasture.

Alright, the whole point of Psalm 23:2 is to remind us that we are not superhuman, no matter how much we try to convince ourselves.  We are designed to need rest, a break, a breather, a moment of calm.  If you want to be a leader, you better schedule some down time for those who call you boss, supervisor, or whatever title you hold.  And while you are at it, you better schedule down time for yourself…for two reasons.  First, you need it.  David realized that.  It’s why he wrote about relaxing in the pastures.  Second, you need to lead by example.  That’s what a genuine leader does…he or she leads from the front and by example.  

Washington also realized those two key leadership points.  It’s why he stayed with his men as they traversed the brutally cold, icy waters of the Delaware River, and the harsh, snowy fields of Valley Forge.  Leading by example, and from the front, whether it is alongside still or stormy waters, or in green or snowy pastures, is the only way to go.

The Lord is my shepherd. Five words.  That’s it.  No more.  There is so much in those five simple words, but we can only scratch the surface in the time we have here.

 THE LORD.  To Adam he was Elohim…the Lord God.  To Abraham he was El Shaddai…God Almighty.  To Moses he was I AM.  To David in Psalm 23, he was Yahweh…the Lord.  Throughout history, God has been described by himself and others in a variety of ways.  He is the provider, the healer, the defender, the protector, the refuge, the rock, and many others.  The point is that the Lord responds in the manner and timing that is perfect.  We may not believe it in that moment, but we can be assured that it is indeed perfect.  

The Lord IS.  Not was, will be, might be, could be, should be, or any other phrase that the “conjuction junction, what’s your function” guy might come up with.  No, the Lord IS my shepherd.  That is an important distinction.  We can become so encumbered by our past, and wishful for our future, that we fail to experience the here and now of our lives.  The Lord wants to remind us that He IS, right here, right now.  When we need help in our struggles, the Lord IS.  When we celebrate successes, the Lord IS.  When we doubt, the Lord IS.  And when we step out in faith, the Lord IS.  There is never a point when the Lord is not. 

The Lord is MY…  It is critical to understand that David is the one writing these words.  This is the same David who was the boy shepherd that felled the obnoxious, arrogant giant.  This is the same David who became a giant obnoxious and arrogant individual himself.  This is the same David who could not take his eyes off the rooftop sunbather and as a result of his actions, had her husband killed in war.  But it is also the same David who the Bible describes as running after God’s heart.  In his ups and downs, David needed the Lord to be a personal, involved, and leading influence in his life.  Just as David was the shepherd to his family’s sheep flock, God was his shepherd…and is our shepherd, guiding, directing, and as we will see in the next few weeks, leading us to the best places. 

SHEPHERD.  Now, this might come as a surprise…it sure was to me.  But sheep are pretty smart creatures.  All of those statements you have heard about how sheep are stupid?  Well, they were wrong.  The experts say (I have said this before, but I always chuckle when I read “experts say”…who are these experts, because they are often wrong) that sheep can recognize 50 individuals’ voices and faces.  I can meet two people, have a 20-minute conversation, walk away, and in five minutes beat my head against the wall because I can’t remember one of their names.  Not a problem with sheep though.  Also, they take care of each other, especially tending to the sick.  When we get sick, we go to the store and look at a hundred varieties of medicine, never really knowing what to buy (unless of course, you are a mother).  Do we get a decongestant?  What about an expectorant?  Do we even know what an expectorant is?  I cannot even begin to count how many times I have bought the wrong medicine.  But not sheep.  When they become sick, they know what plants and specific grasses will make them feel better.  No sheep are not stupid.  But here is the thing, they are dependent.  And that is where the shepherd comes in.  We know the responsibility of the one who watches over the sheep.  The shepherd protects the flock 24/7.  There is not a time when sheep are aimlessly wandering around without supervision.  The shepherds are always there.  No, sheep are not stupid.  They just need help…and doesn’t that sound like someone you might know? 

If you have ever read any of my blogs, you know what’s coming next.  A little history tie-in.  For this season of blogs, I am going to be including anecdotes and tales from one of my favorite individuals in history…our first President, George Washington.  Though our nation’s history is replete with examples of individuals who were “shepherds” during the most demanding times, Washington’s life provides us with an extraordinary canvass of stories. 

He was a shepherd to a rebellious people for a righteous cause, a shepherd to a fledgling nation, and a shepherd to a disgruntled bunch of former soldiers, who remained unpaid for their service to the country.  It was March 15, 1783, and Washington stood in front of a group of officers he had commanded in battle, who had gathered in the Temple of Virtue in Newburgh, New York.  While the soldiers debated their next move, Washington entered in unnoticed.  The angered group were making preparations for marching on Congress and demanding pay for their service.  Though Washington agreed with the men that they deserved the pay they were promised and entitled to, he cautioned those gathered that to approach Congress in this manner, and to leave their families and farms in such a vulnerable time would be ill-advised, and that they could tarnish their battlefield reputations. 

After giving his speech, Washington then pulled out a letter written by Virginia Congressman Joseph Jones.  The content of the letter is irrelevant, but it is worth noting that Jones agreed with the soldiers’ arguments.  The important element of this interaction is what Washington did next.  Attempting to read the letter, he found the writing too small, so he pulled out a new pair of eyeglasses.  Washington then spoke, “Gentlemen, you must pardon me.  I have grown gray in your service and now find myself growing blind.”  For whatever reason, this action moved the soldiers to tears.  After all, he was a beloved leader and had endured the same hardships as those gathered in the room.  The soldiers then voted to cease any plans of discontent, and as an endnote, Congress did pay the soldiers for their five years of service. 

Washington was a shepherd, just not to sheep.  And as well will see in the next episode, he led men through pastures, and alongside and through waters.

He was a hero.  Of that, there can be no doubt.  His life and legacy lives on through everyone that attends the Air Force Academy.  Every Cadet learns the remarkable story of Lance Sijan…and what a remarkable story it is.  On 9 November, 1967, Sijan was the back seater in an F-4C Phantom II, call sign AWOL 1, piloted by Lieutenant Colonel John Armstrong.  Sijan hoped to graduate to the front seat in the coming weeks, but on this night, he would fly back seat with his squadron commander.  Following their preflight checklist, AWOL 1 and AWOL 2 taxied down the runway at Da Nang Air Base and quickly gained speed, lifting off into the night sky.  Lance settled in behind his commander, preparing his mind for the mission ahead.

As they flew the approach into their target, the Ban Loboy Ford, a river crossing the Ho Chi Minh Trail, an explosion rocked the F-4C.  There would only be a few seconds to save themselves by ejecting from the burning aircraft now plummeting toward the earth.  Lance acted quickly, but would it be fast enough?  Other aircraft in the area reported seeing no chutes following the explosion.  Had anyone survived?  Major Fitzgerald, the pilot of AWOL 2 turned on his IFF transducer, an electronic beacon for other friendly aircraft in the region to track.  The hope was that either Armstrong or Sijan would activate their beeper or try to use their radio to make contact, but there was only silence and darkness below.  In less than 30 minutes following their takeoff from Da Nang, AWOL 1 had gone down and was now missing.

It turned out that Lance was the only survivor from the explosion.  Lieutenant Colonel Armstrong did not make it out, and even though Lance survived the initial explosion, he was in bad shape.  The parachute had helped him, but he landed hard on a densely forested karst.  It was dark, and Lance was in bad shape.

As the sun came up over the dense forest, another mission to bomb the rail yards north of Hanoi was in motion when suddenly the back seater on one of the Phantoms picked up a signal from a survival radio beeper.  They had been briefed that a Phantom had gone down the night before, so naturally they thought this could be one of the crew from that plane.  The formation, call signs Drill 1 and Drill 2, radioed the Airborne Command Center who pinpointed the location of the beeper.  They asked Lance to identify himself, which he did.  They listened intently to his voice, knowing that the North Vietnamese had some who spoke good enough English to pass for an American.  After identifying himself further with his serial number, the Command Center was convinced it was indeed Lance Sijan.  

Plans were then set in motion to rescue Lieutenant Sijan and get him back to safety.  Air support, including two HH-3 Jolly Green Giant helicopters, were on the way to Lance’s position.  It took some time, but the low flying, low speed, A-1E Sandys found the downed aviator’s location. But as they did, they started taking groundfire.  At first it was smaller caliber guns, but that quickly changed as 23mm rounds started tracking the lead Sandy.  Multiple enemy rounds found their target.  Sandy was hit and would not stay airborne for long, so Major Griffith limped his aircraft out of the danger zone as far as he could before ejecting over a clearing.  Now there were two men in need of rescue.  One of the HH-60 Jolly Green Giants had followed Griffith as he bailed out and watched the location where he landed.  In a few minutes, the helicopter had picked up the downed Sandy pilot.  Now they could turn their attention back to getting Lance.

No matter what they tried, Lance’s rescuers just could not get to him on this first try.  Vietnamese soldiers on the ground kept firing into the air, endangering the aircraft.  Nor would they get to him the next day.  Unfortunately, the rescue would never happen.  It is rather incredible to contemplate what unfolded next.  Lance dragged his badly injured body around the jungle for weeks.  His injuries included a compound fracture of his left leg, badly fractured skull, a damaged right hand, and countless deep cuts from sharp rocks and thorns.  So far, he had been successful at evading the Vietnamese who were busy hunting him down, but after 46 days of slow movements, Lance’s luck ran out.  The Vietnamese found him.  Lance was first taken to a camp where he was given rice, water, and medicine for several days.  As he slowly regained some strength, Lance plotted how he would get out of there.  On one night, a different guard had showed up and was ordered to watch the prisoner through the night.  Lance thought that this might be his best chance.  He called the Vietnamese soldier over, asking for water.  When the soldier was near him, Lance knocked him unconscious.

Lance, in excruciating pain, now dragged his body up a trail in the monsoonal rains.  He had not gotten far when guards discovered he was missing.  Lance had gotten less than 50 yards when he was discovered and recaptured.  Lance’s fractured leg was put in crudely made cast, and then he was then taken to another location where he would eventually be imprisoned with two other Americans, Bob Craner, the pilot of a downed F-100, and his back seater, Guy Gruters.  Under interrogation, Craner and Gruters made up elaborate stories, telling their captors various lies.  But Lance would not say a thing no matter how bad the Vietnamese beat him.  Craner and Gruters begged Lance to just make up a story…anything, to get the brutal beatings to stop.  They both believed Lance could not survive much longer if the beatings continued.  By now, Lance was so emaciated that he was barely recognizable.  Still, day after day, beating after beating, Lance would not give in to his interrogator’s demands for information.  His only thought was of escape and he let Gruters and Craner know that he would do his part in any plan that led to freedom.  At night, Lance would muster just enough strength to start digging a hole in the dirt.  The guards would find the hole in the morning, and beat him.  His will to fight never left him.

The three prisoners were moved to the infamous Hoa Lo Prison in January 1968. Lance just lay in a state of delirium.  But escape was still embedded in his mind.  At night, Lance would expel every bit of energy to rolling off the pallet that had been his bed.  But that is as far as he could get before being discovered, and then the guards would beat him.  This occurred numerous times.  Craner and Gruters were then put in the same cell as Lance and they took turns sitting by his side ensuring that he did not roll off the pallet for fear of another beating.  One afternoon, Craner suggested him and Gruters start a fitness regime in their cell, so that they could build muscle to help them during long sessions of torture.  Lance insisted on joining in.  The two could not believe it, but Lance, propped up against the wall, began flexing his nearly non-existent arm muscles.  They could tell that Lance was in excruciating pain, but they could not stop his determination.

However, nothing Craner and Gruters did could stop the inevitable.  Lance was in his last days.  After weeks of begging the guards to get a doctor to look after Lance, one finally showed up.  After the examination, the guards loaded him on a truck and took him away, presumably to a hospital.  It would be the last time Craner and Gruters would see Lance.  It was January 22, 1968. Several days later a guard told them that Lance had died.  Through it all, Lance never once gave up the fight for freedom.  Bob Craner committed Lance’s story to memory, and began the journey to have him recognized for his courage and heroism.

That journey culminated on March 4, 1976, in a ceremony in the East Room of the White House, where President Gerald Ford presented Sylvester and Jane Sijan, Lance’s parents, with the posthumously awarded Medal of Honor.  The President then told Lance’s parents that their son was a man of “uncommon courage who gave the country a cherished memory and a clear vision a better world.”  Lance Sijan was a hero.  Of that, there can be no doubt.

I have played countless rounds of golf in tournaments and intramural sports while I was in the Air Force.  While I won quite a few matches in squadron competition, I never won a tournament either as a single player or with a team.  I’ve come close, but it was never in the cards for me.  If I would have stayed with the game anticipating an eventual victory, I would have been disappointed.  But I kept playing, not for the tournament wins, but for the love of the game.  And in that love for the game, I relearned a lesson from my childhood.

When I was 13 years old, I did something not very many people have done.  If you remember from a few weeks ago, I shared that I grew up playing baseball.  I was a good ball player.  I was selected to all-star teams every year I played (here is me trying not to boast).  When I was 13, I was again selected for a city all-star team, and we traveled around the metro area where I live.  On this particular day I was the starting pitcher.  The first few innings flew by as I was in a groove.  By the fifth inning I was still going strong.  It seemed with every inning I just gained momentum.  When the last out of the game was made, I had done something I never imagined doing…I had pitched a no-hitter.  I had walked three batters, so it would not go down in the books as a perfect game, but I was ecstatic anyway.

Now, if only every game I ever pitched went like that.  But it didn’t.  I’ve also been rocked by the opposing team’s bats, leaving the coach no choice but to take me out.  On those days, I didn’t feel so ecstatic.  The no-hitters are exciting and really cool to experience for sure.  But the times when the other team thrashes you is when character is built.  It is easy to celebrate the win and be thrust into the spotlight, but losing…not so much.

They call it losing with grace, but anyone who has lost a game in any sport will tell you that grace is one of the last things you feel…unless of course you are a saint…and a saint was, and is, the farthest thing from what I am.  But my dad was there – for the wins, and the losses.  Recently I heard a radio advertisement for high school sports and scholastics.  In it, a son had just finished a game and his dad was railing against him on all the things he did wrong.  Thankfully, my dad was not like that.  When I did have a bad game, my dad didn’t detail to me all of the things I did wrong.  In fact, he talked about the positive outcomes, choosing to put those less-than-optimal highlights in the trash can of memories.

Losing is just part of life.  No one wins every game.  Tiger Woods has won way less tournaments than he has entered.  The best hitters in baseball only get a hit about once every three at bats.  Babe Ruth had 2,873 hits.  Quite remarkable.  Babe Ruth also struck out 1,330 times.  Also quite remarkable…just not in the same way.  Nolan Ryan, who holds the stellar record for no-hitters (7), most strikeouts (5,714), and a whole host of other stats.  But he also had a career record of 324 wins and 292 losses…not that stellar.  Ryan also never received a Cy Young award, given to best pitchers in each league.  One of the greatest pitchers understood that losses come with wins…and in his case, a lot of losses.

What you do with those losses is what matters.  Of course the wins matter, and it’s those that will get you the ESPN highlights.  But it’s the losses that will define who you are, and as I said earlier, what will build your character.

I guess my dad understood that.  His way of helping me build resilience in those early years helped me immensely later in life.  During numerous military deployments I had that resilience tested on many occasions.  On my last one to Iraq, I had the honor of speaking to countless men and women from all branches of the military on how to build personal resilience through life’s experiences.  Many of those had lost all hope and felt there was nowhere to turn, in essence, they were thinking of taking their life.  Nothing shakes you to the core faster than someone sitting across from you and sharing those thoughts.  As I said, I was honored to have those conversations…and thankful that God used me as a vessel to be able to inject meaning and purpose back into their lives.  And it was that instilled resilience through life experiences that allowed me to stand in front of 850 basic trainees and talk about how important resilience would be for them in the coming weeks of training, and how important resilience would be for each of them throughout their lives.

One last thought to wrap this up…on the day of that no-hitter, the coach presented me the game ball with everyone’s signatures.  I still have that ball.  Occasionally, it gets pulled out of the drawer where it’s stored, and I get to remember that day again.  And in remembering that day of victory, I remember not all days are victories…and in remembering that, I remember how critical resilience is in our lives…and in remembering the importance of resilience, I remember it all started with a guy I called dad who showed me how to win AND lose graciously.  

You have heard the expression…a bad day at golf is better than a good day at work.  And it is absolutely true.  Not that work is necessarily bad, it’s just golf is so enjoyable.  That enjoyment is felt no stronger than when you hit a great shot.  I remember playing a round at Del Lago Golf Course in Vail, Arizona.  The #7 hole is a 172-yard par 3.  I hit a 5-wood off the tee box, and it was a beauty.  It flew straight at the hole, bounced a few times, and stopped two inches from the hole.  It remains the closest I have ever come to getting a hole-in-one.  I tapped it in, went to the next hole, a par four, and scored an eight.  In a matter of a few minutes, I experienced the complete opposite ends of the scoring spectrum…a birdie and a quadruple bogey.  Nothing changes though.  A bad day of golf is better than a good day at work.

Why is that?  Well, I guess it all boils down to gratitude, or thankfulness.  It really is hard to complain about being outside on a beautiful day, surrounded my nature, and playing a great game.  But even when you are not outside; even when you are stuck behind your desk at work; even though you might work in a cubicle along with hundreds of others; even when you have to work overtime…gratitude can still be yours.  That’s because gratitude is not an emotion to be experienced, it is a lifestyle to be lived.  

My parents have a little wooden carving hanging on their kitchen wall that says “attitude of gratitude”.  That resonates so much, but only if you let it.  I remember hearing a preacher once say that we should be thankful that we get to pay taxes.  Right now, you think I have totally lost my mind, or the preacher who said it lost his mind.  But think deeper about it.  If you are paying taxes, you have a job, or some kind of retirement income, and at the very least, you are still alive.  If you pay property taxes, you have a roof over your head and a car to drive.  

This again is one of those things I learned from watching my dad.  To be thankful for what life is offering.

Gratitude seems like such an easy concept to grasp, but alas, it eludes many of us.  There is always something more to gain, someplace different to go, someone else to beat out for that promotion.  We get so busy that we fail to recognize what we already have, the places we have already visited, and the co-workers we really don’t know.  In the midst of our individual chaos, let me suggest something George Washington wrote in honor of the Thanksgiving Proclamation of 1789:

“Whereas it is the duty of all Nations to acknowledge the providence of Almighty God, to obey his will, to be grateful for his benefits, and humbly to implore his protection and favor….”

Continuing,

“That we may then all unite in rendering unto him our sincere and humble thanks–for his kind care and protection of the People of this Country previous to their becoming a Nation–for the signal and manifold mercies, and the favorable interpositions of his Providence which we experienced in the course and conclusion of the late war–for the great degree of tranquility, union, and plenty, which we have since enjoyed–for the peaceable and rational manner, in which we have been enabled to establish constitutions of government for our safety and happiness, and particularly the national One now lately instituted–for the civil and religious liberty with which we are blessed; and the means we have of acquiring and diffusing useful knowledge; and in general for all the great and various favors which he hath been pleased to confer upon us.”

Dare I say Washington was on to something when he wrote of having a “great degree of tranquility, union, and plenty, which we have since enjoyed…”.   He had only been the president for six months but looking back at what this young nation had traversed through just a few years earlier, Washington recognized the importance of having gratitude in the moment.  When Washington sat down to write this proclamation, perhaps he had just read what the Apostle Paul had written to the church at Thessalonica, “Give thanks in all circumstances.”  If true, this would have resonated with him more than we can imagine.  From defeat to defeat, to that brutal winter at Valley Forge, to seeing close friends lose their lives on the battlefield, to being betrayed by a confidant and fellow general, Washington now says to be grateful.  That is a lesson I know I need…and probably one we all need to live better every day.

I love studying military history.  I have a master’s degree in it, so I guess it’s good that I do.  For many years now I have devoted a lot of time to studying the Civil War, but lately have returned to the 1700s and our nation’s initial fight for freedom.  How we came through the American Revolution the victors is a fascinating story and, honestly, quite mind-boggling on many levels.  Many of my past blogs have covered this timeframe and the people.  There is George Washington, the commander of the Continental Army.  There is also Alexander Hamilton, Nathaniel Greene, Patrick Henry, Paul Revere, Ethan Allen, and many more.  These men all served a fledgling nation at great cost to, not only their own lives, but the lives of their friends and families.

Consider the years since the formation of our country, and the elements are the same.  Most names are not as recognizable as George Washington, but the sacrifices are no less significant.  Elizabeth Jacobson, Daniel Carlson, Brittany Gordon, and hundreds of thousands of others…deployed to all regions of the world…Korea, Vietnam, Cambodia, Guadalcanal, Midway, Iraq, Afghanistan, Omaha Beach, Bastogne, Bosnia, and countless more.  Most of their names are known only by friends and family, yet each one of them represents something beyond measure and, quite frankly, beyond comprehension…they are part of a brotherhood/sisterhood that is like no other.

I remember playing my first round of golf after seeing the movie Bat 21, and thinking, there is no way a normal human being could do what Lieutenant Colonel Iceal Hambleton did in the aftermath of getting shot down behind North Vietnamese lines.  Evading the North Vietnamese for several days, a plan was eventually hatched whereby others he was in radio contact with would guide him to safety, in a rather unique way.  They would direct his movements as if he was walking his favorite golf courses.  For instance, the observer would tell Hambleton to walk the first hole at Tucson National.  Hambleton knew the details because he played there many times.  It was a 408-yard par 4 that ran southeast.  So, they wanted Hambleton to walk 408 yards southeast.  Then the observer would tell him the next hole to “play”.  The plan worked.  Rescuers eventually reached Hambleton and got him aboard an evacuation helicopter and back to U.S. forces.  Who knew that playing golf could save your life?

For the last 248 years, individuals have served in the military for various reasons.  And no matter that reason, they should be celebrated.  Today, less than one percent of the population of the United States serves in the military.  I talk to a lot of Veterans every week.  When I hear someone who served say, “I only served one term”, or “one enlistment”, I am quick to remind them that there is no “only” when it comes to service.  In other words, there is honor in any amount of service to our nation.  They served, and we should be thankful for that.  My dad taught me that.  He served in the Navy four years.  And because of that, he is a patriot of a special breed.  For as long as I can remember, my dad (who is 90 years old), has raised the American flag up the flagpole every morning, and has taken it down every evening.  This action is simply an outward expression of what is on the inside.  He loves, as is often joked about how George W. Bush said it, ‘Merica.  And because of that love, I see him as a patriot.

Let me close with a story of another patriot of long ago.  Nathan Hale was recruited by General Washington to become part of his spy ring.  Washington needed individuals to gather intelligence on British operations in New York City, and Hale volunteered.  In fact, he was the only one who volunteered.  So, into the city he went, under the guise of a teacher looking for work.  But it was not long before the British found out who he was and why he was there.  They captured him, and it did not look too good for the young patriot.  Death by hanging was the punishment for spying…and that is exactly what the British did to him.  In the minutes leading up to the hanging, Nathan was given a chance to speak.  We have all heard of the supposed words he uttered, “I only regret, that I have but one life to lose for my country.”  There is some disagreement about the exact words he used, but every written source of the day, has him saying words to the same effect, so there is really no doubt that he did indeed say that phrase, or something similar.  My personal favorite comes from a 1777 issue of the Essex Journal, in which Hale is reported as saying at the gallows, that the British were shedding the blood of an innocent person, and that if he had ten thousand lives, he would gladly lay them all down in defense of his country.

Patriots who have served our country come in all shapes and sizes.  They are a private citizen, turned general, turned president.  They are a Soldier, Sailor, Airman, Marine, who served in Iraq or Afghanistan.  They are a guy who “walked” a golf course to evade the enemy and find his way back to freedom.  They are a young spy who was caught and hanged for his crimes, and who would willingly give his life 10,000 times.  They are someone who served four years, and someone who served thirty years.  They are those who did not serve, but now serve Veterans in their greatest hour of need.  Yes indeed, patriots come in all shapes and sizes.

O beautiful for heroes proved; In liberating strife                                               Who more than self their country loved; And Mercy more than life! 

(3rd verse to “America the Beautiful”)

The foundation of the game of golf is found in a single word.  It doesn’t matter if you are a 30 handicap, or the world’s #1.  It is so centric to the very ideals of the game on the professional level, that when a player thinks that he or she may have done something wrong, they call a penalty on themselves.  Now there are exceptions when a player tries to get away with something illegal, but it is a very rare occurrence.  There is not another sport that I know of where this happens.  Tom Brady never called a penalty on himself.  LeBron James has never admitted to a foul.  It would be unheard of if this occurred.  ESPN would run the story around the clock.  Yet, that is what happens in golf when a player breaks one of the rules.  It’s all because of one word.  Integrity.

There were many times when my integrity was tested during a round of golf.  After all, I am just a weekend hacker, so what is the harm in fudging a little?  Maybe move that ball out of the bunker.  Maybe tap the ball a couple of inches into the fairway and out of the thick rough.  You often see casual golfers use the “foot” wedge…that is, they kick the ball into a better position.  My philosophy was always that I got myself into the position I was in, so the challenge was to get out of it in the best possible way.  Having your golf ball end up in bad positions is part of the game, and you cannot move it in competition, so why move it when you are just playing casually?

So where did I learn integrity?  If you’ve been following my blogs recently you are going to know the answer.  I could just wait here and have you go back and read those latest entries, but I will go ahead and tell you (but seriously go back and read the past stories).  My dad taught me integrity.  Now, he didn’t sit me down and tell me, “Son, you are going to be tested in life, and integrity is going to help you in every one of those instances.”  It did not happen like that.  Instead, he showed me.  He showed through what he did and what he said.  Integrity is not easy, and more times than not, it is the hardest thing, the most difficult choice.  But when faced with those kinds of options, don’t you want to choose the one that is going to give the best outcome?  Of course you do.

Before we go any further, I guess it would help to understand where I am coming from so that we are on the same page.  Integrity simply means being honest and holding strong moral principles.  I have always liked this picture of integrity…doing the right thing even when no one is watching.  It is easy to do the right thing when all eyes are on you.  But the second those eyes turn away, the pressure is really on.  Back in the golf world, it looks like this.  Your golf ball is in some really thick rough, and your competition is standing right there next to you.  Obviously, you are not going to move your ball.  But what if that person you are playing against is nowhere in sight, are you going to move your ball?  Integrity says no, even when it would be easy to do so.  In life it is no different.  When faced with a decision that will test your character, will your response be different if someone is standing right next to you?  Integrity reminds us that doing the right thing is not dependent on whether someone else’s eyes are upon you.

Integrity is one of those things where I cannot point to a specific instance when my dad revealed how important integrity was or how “integral” it would come to be in my life.  But I can say this, when the Air Force (my employer for 30+ years) created its current iteration of core values in 1995, I was already well versed in integrity.  “Integrity First”, “Service Before Self”, and “Excellence In All We Do” are the three core values the Air Force is built on.  Integrity is first because everything else hinges on it.  Work ethic, morals, values-based decision making, how you will treat others, all start with integrity.  If you think of it in terms of a house, integrity is the foundation, the very thing that the rest of the house is built on.  Poor foundation, and the house will fall.  Strong foundation, and the house will last generations.

When I think of integrity in the light of history, many examples come to mind…both good and bad.  George Washington stepped down after two terms as president not because people wanted him to, or because his terms were riddled with scandal.  Instead, he left because he felt that his time in office would become a precedent, that is, others would emulate him, and he did not want the presidency to become a lifelong appointment, ultimately fearing that a president would hold too much power for too long, much like a king. That precedence stood until Franklin D. Roosevelt ignored Washington’s warnings and ran for a third and fourth term.  In 1951, the 22^nd Amendment became law, limiting an individual to two terms as president.  Washington’s example bleeds integrity.

Then you have another guy who served under Washington, and who Washington himself, called the fighting general.  Benedict Arnold.  Sides have debated for years as to whether he deserves all the bad press he receives.  However, what is not up for debate is the fact that he was an outstanding general for the patriot cause, winning major battles for Washington’s army.  But when he was injured and then passed over for promotion, he felt disrespected and turned to the other side, hoping to hand over West Point and the Hudson Valley region to British control.  What is the cause for when an outstanding general like Arnold, though rightfully angry about how he was treated by some in Congress, tries to influence the fall of his own country.  Something was not right at the very core of his character.  Dare I say he lacked integrity?  If we return to that basic idea that integrity is doing what is right even when no one is looking, then we have a clear case of a lack of integrity in Arnold, for when no one from the American army is looking, he is trying to betray them.  So, two early American figures, both challenged with doing what was right, but only one comes out the other side successfully.

Let me close this up by going back to my dad.  He is an amazing dude.  He is not perfect.  He makes mistakes.  But I’ve never witnessed a lack of integrity in his character.  When the right thing needs to be done, my dad does it.  And in doing so, he has helped shape the responses to challenges in my own life.  So, the next time you are tempted to move that ball to a better position, or go down the path that challenges your character, take it from my dad, and do the right thing.  You won’t be disappointed.