The Lion isn’t the biggest in the jungle. There’s the hippopotamus.

The Lion isn’t the tallest in the jungle. There’s the giraffe.

The Lion isn’t the fastest in the jungle. There’s the cheetah.

The Lion is the King of the jungle because he BELIEVES he is the biggest, tallest, and fastest.

What’s is it you believe about yourself?

What would you build if you had a 1000 year view instead of a five year, or five month view? That thought came to me as I traveled in London and stood in the magnificent Westminster Abbey. Roughly 1000 years ago men built the Abbey. I can’t conceive of how—given the limits of their technology and the soaring 500 feet apex of the edifice—but they did it; not with modern cranes but with hand tools, sweat and muscle. And it’s a sight to behold.

I wonder if any of them gave thought to the fact that 1000 years later people like me would be standing in the same spot critiquing their work? They certainly built it like they cared, because 1000 years later all I can say is “Bravo!” to their splendid accomplishment.

This brings me back to you and me. How would we do our work if we had a 1000 year view? What would we build?

In both the Abbey and the nearby St. Paul’s Cathedral are buried Kings, politicians, warriors, poets, musicians, and scientists. I don’t know that any builders were buried IN their work, but its worthy to ask ourselves “if I were going to be buried here amid my work and subject to a millennia of scorn or praise for what I’ve done, would I be happy with what people said 1000 years from now?”

Reflecting on the stunning accomplishment of the Abbey and Cathedral builders, particularly given the limited technological resources they had at their disposal while they built—hammers, muscle, sinew, and sweat—gives me pause to stop and ask myself: Given all the tools and resources I have available today, what is possible? What could be done if I set my mind to it?

Finally, for my friends who have a God-directedness I ask this question: how would it change your work if you saw yourself as the Bishop of a city? Not the pastor of a particular church. Not a deacon or leader in a particular congregation. Not a staff member of a certain denomination working in that city. But instead, what if you were THE Bishop of your city? How would that enlarge your thinking about what you are responsible for and what is possible?

In minute-rice, microwave America we have far too short a perspective. Our plans are too limited. Our ambition is weak. Our God is small. Our impact window is microscopic. We must broaden our view of what can be done, put our hand to work for the 1000 year project, and do the work for judgment that is 1000 years into the future.

What are you building?

What are you building? Whatever it is, it’s a reflection of your wisdom. Proverbs 14:1 says “A wise woman builds her house, but with her own hands the foolish one tears hers down.” Wisdom builds. Foolishness destroys.

What are you building?

Wise people are builders. They build friendships, relationships, families, connections, businesses, ministries and movements. Fools stand on the sidelines and throw rocks. Fools pick at wedge issues and seek to drive wedges between people. Many of us are foolish with language, letting every moderately-humorous-but-definitely-snarky comment slide from our lips inflicting cuts, scrapes and bruises on our mates, our kids, and those we spend our days with. We’re foolishly tearing down, but so addicted to the aren’t-I-smart, quick-witted narcotic that we can’t see the blood that drips to the ground from our own sharp tongue.

Foolish people destroy. I’ve been foolish. How about you?

Wisdom builds because it is the nature of wisdom to produce life. The Bible teaches that the “person” of Wisdom (yeah, that confuses me a bit, too) was present at creation, participating in the creative process.

Wisdom produces a culture of life. It invigorates.

Wisdom speaks death to death, and life to everything else; because that’s what Wisdom does. It builds.

What are you building?

If any of you lacks Wisdom you should ask God who gives generously to all, without finding fault, and it will be given to you. James 1:5

Sometimes the lessons come slowly, as this one did.

I lost a client. He fired me. Not today. Not this week. Not this month. Not this year. Not even this decade. It’s probably been four years ago.

I happened to think about this client tonight. I was repairing fences on my farm, and for whatever reason he came to mind; likely because he is a farmer, too.

This farmer was not an unsophisticated man. He bore a graduate degree and retired to the farm after a career in administration, so he had thinking capability. He was a financial advisory client of mine. The stock market had treated him badly (as it had everyone) and he was frustrated. I offered him my condolences, and the best solutions that financial planning could offer. I showed him three clear options, and when he couldn’t decide I sent him home to think about it and choose the one he thought best for himself.

The next day, he fired me.

I never knew why. He wouldn’t take my calls and didn’t respond to the letter I sent him. I felt hurt and frustrated. It was OK that he chose to hire another advisor (I presume), but it wasn’t OK that he burned our relationship by slinking away in the middle of the night; disappearing without saying a word—no honest man-to-man talk here. I didn’t need him as a client and the loss of income from his business was minuscule, nonetheless, I was hurt because I really had done the best by him; not my best, but the best. I had given him very solid advice. I had told him the truth even when he didn’t want to hear it. I had offered him solutions and discussed the risks they involved. I gave him the freedom to choose, or not to make a choice. But what I didn’t do was take the pain away with the false promise that the very next investment was guaranteed to work magic, because it wasn’t. I didn’t offer a panacea. I was honest. Evenly manly.

Tonight, in a moment of enlightenment I figured it out. Firing me had nothing to do with me. He was miserable. He couldn’t change his age. He couldn’t change how much money he had. He couldn’t change the stock market. He couldn’t change interest rates. The only thing in his life he could change was me. So in his misery he thrashed about and the tie that broke first was the tie to me. He didn’t really fire me. He flopped around until something broke. Our relationship just happened to be the something.

Perhaps there is someone in your life who is thrashing about; a client, or a friend. Maybe the relationship is already broken. Maybe its just fraying. My advice to you is: be honest, be compassionate, and if they choose to walk away, let ’em go.

It’s not about you.

Do you have credentials, or are you competent? There’s a big difference. It used to be that going to school and earning credentials was how you built competence, but that system is being bypassed by a new way of learning, thanks to the microchip and the internet, that develops competence without necessarily qualifying you for a credential.

This matter came to mind this week as I dealt with a business executive who frankly, didn’t do a very good job of selling me and servicing me, but who wanted to be sure I knew they had both a Juris Doctorate and a Masters in Business Administration. Frankly, I’m not impressed. I needed skilled assistance, and I cared not a whit about the qualifications of the person who provided it; only that they were able to get the job done.

Competency produces value. Credentials produce certificates to frame and hang on your wall. One matters. One doesn’t.

Personally, I have a fair number of credentials; a big wall of certificates indicating that I’ve got degrees, designations, licenses, and titles. At one time I was proud of those. I thought they qualified me for something. But they didn’t. They only gave me entry into the competitive arena where the gatekeepers have arbitrarily decided that you must have that particular credential to enter the playground, but with the advent of technology allowing delivery of content “around the system” of gates that the institutional gatekeepers have installed, those gatekeepers and what they keep inside the gates are becoming increasingly irrelevant.

Credentials give you confidence. You don’t know what you are doing, and you know it. But, because you have a credential you are able to psych yourself onto the playing field because you “feel” like you know what you are doing. That’s why young people are so proud of their credentials, and while middle aged professionals can’t find their certificates, degrees and awards. They have learned that the credentials don’t do anything for anybody. It’s knowing how to use what you know in order to deliver an effective result—that’s what people pay for.

Credentials are optional. Competence is required. If you are a consumer of education, you need to ask yourself whether you’ll be earning a credential, or becoming competent. If you are an educator, you need to ask whether your curriculum which leads to a credential is creating competence. If it’s not, your institution is going to join the dung heap of those that missed the point.