Review: Leading with a Limp: Turning Your Struggles into Strengths

Leading with a Limp: Turning Your Struggles into Strengths by Dan B. Allender
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

While it is not an absolutely brilliant book on leadership, the author's humility about his state of sinfulness shines forth. A pity that it seems that the book was written at different pockets of time, and comes across as a disjointed patchwork. Though many segments were extremely long-winded, some of the illustrations were brilliant (will reproduce them below):

Is it now? (140-142)
We are all procrastinators. Many things need to be done today that I wont get to legitimately, and by my procrastination, i will choose to delay other things. The way I manage I manage my days is similar to the way I choose books for my nightstand. If a book makes it ways to the stand, it has achieved a priority that few accomplish. I select my books with the discrimination of a Broadway director. I dont care what sacrifice was required to get the book published; I care only whether the book is worthy of being on my nightstand. Even then I will read only forty to sixty pages to determine whether I will invest the hours to finish it. I may not make great choices, but I am discriminating. Yet each book I read requires saying no to some other worthy read. It is all a question of what ought to take my heart right now.

I counselled a woman who was a partner in a prestigious law firm. She told me how the tensions among the partners were wreaking havoc in the organisation. Everyone was burned out, yet they were still taking on more difficult cases than the infrastructure could handle. Her marriage was teetering on the border of disaster, and she knew that a number of other employees were barely making it through the day.

She shared her burden with a group of women with whom she prayed. She read the Scriptures and novels. She laughed and wept. She discussed with her husband the cost of speaking up at the next stakeholders meeting. They knew it could be the end of her well-paying job. She had worked so hard to achieve her position that at first she refused to be the one to blow the whistle on the firm's idiocy and arrogance. But my work with her in counselling helped her see that telling the truth is never weak but that it actually requires courage and audacious faith. She finally told her partners that she didnt understand who or what was driving the reckless mismanagement of personnel and resources. She also asked if the out-of-control of the firm was due more to greed or to arrogance.

The firm's older partners stared at her as if she had turned traitor. She told them that she had no intention of resigning or continuing to work the inhumane hours. She also wondering out loud if anyone else wanted to see their marriage and children due to someone else's greed or arrogance. She told about her dreams for her children and husband, and she acknowledged that lack of courage she exhibited when she continually told her family that she didnt have time to be mother or wife. Clearly this woman chose not to lie or hide. She limped out of the meeting feeling like a fool, but she knew that her soul was more important than gaining the whole world.

This woman's courage was the catalyst for a month-long reconsideration of what cases the firm would take and how to redistribute the work load and financial remuneration. She still works with the same firm and is one of the most highly respected attorneys not only for her courtroom performance but also because she told the truth to her peers.


Strength and Tenderness (180-181)
Whenever we see strength and tenderness in others, we must prize it and do what we can to help it grow. My children provide a nearly constant supply of stories regarding their courage (strength) and care (tenderness) for me, for my wife, and for one another. They each live with a growing level of awe and gratitude for one another.

Recently, for instance, my son and I went for fly-fishing and an accident occurred where he fell and dropped his rod in fast-moving water. We both assumed it was gone for good, but later we discovered that the rod had gotten caught on a tree branch near the riverbank, at a spot that was nearly impossible to get to. When I foolishly decided to wade over to get it, I was nearly washed away by the current. It was a terrifying risk, yet we were able to retrieve the rod.

After the drama subsided, my son said to me, "do you think a rod is worth your life?"

I sheepishly answer, "no it was a foolish decision."

He went on to say, "what do you think it would have been like for me to lose my father over a silly rod?" His words quickened, and he said with passion, "what do you think it would have been like for me to tell my mother how her husband died? Do you understand, dad, that I would miss you for the rest of my life?"

I was stunned. I was not only taken aback by the utter foolishness of my choice but also by the passionate and compelling voice of my son as he named my failure, set it in a larger narrative of our lives together, and then spoke to the deepest desires of my heart to matter to my son. The effect was incomprehensible: I had never felt more foolish before my son - or more loved by him.

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