“Fred the Penguin”
One of my favorite books on leadership is called Our Iceberg Is Melting.[1] It’s a fable about a colony of Emperor penguins who live on the greatest iceberg in the entire Antarctic. On this great iceberg, they have access to food, shelter, and all the other necessities of life. Because of its abundance, the penguins assume they will live on this great iceberg forever. Yet, one day, Fred (one of the lesser-known penguins) discovered that their iceberg was melting and could soon split apart. Many of the other penguins dismissed Fred’s worries and went about their lives as if nothing was wrong. But Fred couldn’t just let it be…he had to find a way to lead these stubborn penguins toward a more secure future. But it wasn’t going to be an easy journey.
I wonder if this fable sounds familiar to you. The parallels between Fred the Penguin and Moses the Israelite seem obvious, don’t they? A relatively unknown individual recognizes a major problem and has to figure out how to guide an obstinate group toward a “Promised Land” that may or may not exist. It’s the age-old story about leadership in the midst of a crisis, the story of an unlikely hero who displays courage and faith under very difficult circumstances. Like Fred, when the road ahead seems impossible to travel, Moses will have to figure out what he’s really made of.
There is a key difference here, however. Unlike the penguins, the Israelites aren’t just facing an impending sense of disaster; instead, they are running into emergency situation after emergency situation. Last week, we found the Israelites on the brink of starving to death, and now they are practically dying of thirst. Many studies show that human beings, on average, can go about three weeks without food, but only three days without water. And those figures assume normal environmental conditions, whereas the people of Israel were in the middle of a desert where conditions are anything but normal. When you become dehydrated, your body sends you many warning signs that things are out of balance: extreme headaches, deep thirst, fainting spells, increases in body temperature, and rapid heart rate. It’s not a pretty picture.
Imagine what it would be like to have a few hundred thousand angry people depending on you for survival. My only approximation of this experience was about 15 years ago when I was a youth pastor. About two weeks after I started my first job out of college, I was to lead about 40 teenagers and a group of 3 or 4 volunteers out into the wilderness for a retreat. As basically a kid myself, I was responsible for making all the arrangements (transportation, lodging, programming, and most importantly, food). So, we get to the campground on a Friday night around 7 pm and everybody’s starving. Thankfully, I had made arrangements with the camp director to have a fire burning so we could roast hot dogs. When I saw the flames rising, I felt confident that this was going to be a great night.
Without missing a beat, I jumped out of the van to meet the director, and he said, “Welcome to Twin Lakes! Okay, if you’ll go ahead and grab your hot dogs, we can get ‘em roasted and get these kids fed.” Immediately, I felt this wave of anxiety rush through my body. I knew there was something I forgot! We were miles from civilization, not a grocery store within 20 or 30 miles, and I had nearly 50 people that hadn’t eaten in several hours. It felt like the world was ending. In total panic, I told him about the forgotten hot dogs, and the director said, “Well, there’s a little pizza place in the gas station down the road. They might still be open.”
So, after praying like I’d never prayed before, I called the number he gave me and heard the sweetest sound of my life on the other end, “Mama’s Pizza, how can I help you?” I said, “I’ve got a group of hangry kids at Twin Lakes Campground. Give me all the pizza you have.” Honestly, it was like getting water from a rock. Thanking God profusely, I gathered everyone together and told them the situation. I was still a little nervous about disappointing everyone. I knew they were really looking forward to a weenie roast. But as soon as I finished my confession, I heard one of the middle school boys shout, “All right! Pizza!” Crisis averted.
Certain situations thrust you into leadership and require you to act. When I realized I didn’t have the hot dogs, I wanted to go run and hide, but that really wasn’t an option. I caused the problem, and now the group was depending on me to fix it. I certainly didn’t show any great valor that evening, but I did recognize, in a small way, what kind of pressure leaders experience. When the iceberg is melting or the water runs dry, leadership requires that we act with conviction and courage, even when fear threatens to overtake us.
Moses gets an A+ for leadership here, not because he acted without anxiety, but because he took his fears before God in prayer. As he drew near to God, Moses chose faith over fear, walking before the people, striking the rock, and demonstrating once again that the Lord was indeed with the people of Israel. They’re going to need many more reminders along the way, but little by little, God is using Moses to form a community of faith, hope, and love that will truly depend on God’s grace and act accordingly.
So, how do we walk in the shoes of Moses? Which icebergs are melting around us? What situations call us to faithful action in the midst of crisis? And how are you already taking up this mantle of leadership? These are questions that require serious consideration. While there certainly are emergency situations that must be dealt with immediately, many of the leadership challenges we face require planning and organization, which must be accompanied by periods of prayer and reflection. But what I do know for sure is that you, as a congregation, have been rising to the occasion, putting your faith into action in a multitude of ways.
The most obvious to me, though, is your willingness to provide a Sabbath to your pastor. Most presbyteries require congregations to give a minimum of 4 weeks of vacation and 2 weeks of study leave to their pastors. However, I can’t tell you how many pastors and churches simply do not allow that to happen. Either the pastor feels like the church cannot go on without her, or the church has become overly dependent on the pastor. I’m extremely guilty of this, and it’s part of the reason I’m not currently serving a church full-time. Over the course of seven years in congregational ministry, I took two vacations, one of which was only about three days. That was nobody’s fault but mine.
I certainly don’t mean to belittle any other profession, but ministry leadership is exhausting at times. Similar to what Moses experienced, pastors can get into a pattern in which everything seems like an emergency. And during a global pandemic, the stakes get even higher. Yet, what you as a congregation have done is to say, “Pastor Karel, we love you. We want you to rest. Yes, issues will pop up while you’re away, but we’ve got it covered. We understand that these four weeks are not some great luxury, but they are an essential part of your continuing ministry with us.” From a formerly burned-out pastor, thank you for making this happen for Pastor Karel.
Oh, in case you’re wondering what happened to Fred and the rest of the Emperor Penguins. They did start to listen to Fred and, through a long process of preparation, they eventually found a new iceberg. It wasn’t quite the same as their old home…they had to find new places to fish, new types of shelter, new ways of structuring their community. They had to find a new way to be. It was different, but it was good. With the leadership of Fred and others, they learned how to keep taking steps of faith. It’s the same thing the Israelites had to figure out, and it’s exactly what we’re all figuring out as we continue moving forward, trusting in God’s provision. So, may we have faith that, come what may, there is always water in the rock.
[1] Kotter, John. Our Iceberg Is Melting: Changing and Succeeding Under Any Conditions. St. Martin’s Press: New York, 2005.