This morning I spent some time talking to a staff member from Higher Ministries, a non-profit organization that reaches out to pastors and churches in crisis. During our conversation, Tony made an interesting observation: "Guys leave Bible college or seminary full of knowledge in theology but without adequate training in leadership and conflict management skills."

I am continually astounded at the number of leaders I know who are unable to have the difficult conversation or who, like Michael Scott in The Office, equate leadership with being everyone's friend. It causes so many problems and solves so few.

Henry Cloud talks about this in his book Integrity: The Courage to Meet the Demands of Reality. (The title alone is telling.) He points out that truly successful leaders are oriented towards reality--they seek the truth about situations even if that truth is negative. "Reality," he says, "is always your friend."

Unfortunately, we can all point to people who operate as if reality is a problem to be avoided at all costs. As a result, the 40-year veteran of ministry is cruelly let go without dignity or even explanation by a senior leader unable to speak the truth in love. An entire organization fights paralysis while its leader stubbornly pursues business strategies that stopped working years earlier. A board keeps a faltering leader in place because it's too much work to find a replacement--and then wonders why the staff has such low morale. A group of elders talks to everyone on the church staff about a problem--except the staff member who created it.

I could go on, but I'm getting depressed. What baffles me is that despite my youth and inexperience, the solutions to these problems seem clear to me. If I, who have never led anything more rigorous than a small group, understand these issues, why on earth don't others? If I'm able to confront a toxic person or difficult situation, it seems my elders (church or chronological) should be able to as well.

Leaders clutch dog-eared copies of Good to Great but are unable to practice one of its major points: all the great companies (and their level 5 leaders) could “confront the most brutal facts of current reality.” They wait for situations or people to suddenly improve on their own, although every law in the universe says that won't happen. They shy away from conflict but follow Jesus who confronted Pharisees, disciples, entire towns, and the reality of our sin. They avoid unpleasant news but follow God, who moved quickly to deal with Adam and Eve's sin and proactively create a redemptive solution.

It's all rather ironic, and very frustrating, because it's ultimately the staff and the ministry that suffer from a leader's lack of courage (or, I'll be charitable, lack of insight). When he refuses to make a choice, he's making a choice--to postpone the inevitable, to cause even more conflict, and to make the process twice as painful for everyone involved. And it's young 'uns like me and my friends (who have personally experienced every one of the situations I list above) who have to deal with it.

I may never be a good leader, either, but I do know one thing: ignorance does not equal bliss--for anyone.

Things I do not ever want to do again

1. Live in western Pennsylvania
2. Sew costumes for an amateur production of South Pacific
3. Dye my hair red
4. Analyze software systems and financial spreadsheets
5. Watch The Passion of the Christ
6. Eat pureed sea urchin
7. Find a mouse in my apartment
8. Have my teeth cut out of my gums
9. Deal with anyone related to California's Employment Development Department
10. Date an atheist on a mission
11. 6th grade
12. Use the terms "ROI," "best practices," or "impactful" in a sentence
13. Ride any amusement park ride that involves falling 10 stories in five seconds
14. Work at TCBY
15. Drive to LA during rush hour
16. Pierce anything
17. Spend two days before Christmas stuck in a snowstorm, living in a smoking room with a broken TV at the Days Inn in Ft. Wayne, IN
18. Move cross-country

I've got your valentine right here

After four years of dating (and being dumped by) a series of men from other parts of the country, I met a great guy right here in California--just four weeks before I leave.

God has quite a sense of humor.

Nothing's going to come of it, of course, because in addition to being kind, successful, and easy on the eyes, he's also not stupid. Why would he invest in me when I'm bound for the faraway land of fried meat and gun racks?

Even if I were staying, chances are we wouldn't work out any more than my other relationships have. But it's the principle of the thing--it feels like God's getting in one last dig to punctuate several years of disappointments, and it seems rather cruel.

Does that sentence make you uncomfortable? Cruel isn't an adjective we typically apply to God. The Bible says he's loving, gracious, patient, merciful, compassionate. It says he won't give us a stone if we ask for bread. But some days I seem to be knee-deep in stones, and I bet you do, too. How should we process that?

If God is so eager to be in relationship with us, why does he so often keep his distance? (Please no cliched comments about "If God seems far away, guess who moved." Read Psalm 44.) God keeps our tears in a bottle and cares about the direction of our lives--so why does he seem to ignore so many prayers?

In Disappointment with God, Philip Yancey writes, "[This] does not come only in dramatic circumstances....I have found that petty disappointments tend to accumulate over time, undermining my faith with a lava flow of doubt. I start to wonder whether God cares about everyday details--about me. I am tempted to pray less often, having concluded in advance that it won't matter. Or will it? My emotions and faith waver."

I've long since passed the stage of questioning God's sovereignty or his power to do good. Instead, I find myself grappling with his desire to do good. Although I've known him most of my life, I don't yet understand what I can ask for, or which of those bread prayers will result in more stone answers.

One thing I do know: for six months I've smiled patiently while people yank Jeremiah 29:11 out of context and earnestly quote it to me. In honor of Valentine's Day, I'm smacking the next person who does.

The Christmas season ushered in a season of "lasts." Over the holidays I decided to move to Nashville, partly for some professional opportunities and partly to be closer to family. Since returning to California, each day is part of a bittersweet countdown to my departure in March, and everything is a “last”—last trip to Disneyland, last Sunday at my church, last afternoon babysitting Miss It's Not Pink (see November 28), last time cleaning cat vomit off my carpet here, last time elbowing through crowds of thousands to fly out of LAX…….actually, not all lasts are so bad.

Goodbyes tug at the sentimental part of me. People are often surprised at this—they see me as pragmatic and cynical, but like all true cynics I have a deep romantic streak. (As James Cozzens put it so well, "A cynic is just a man who found out when he was ten that there wasn't any Santa Claus, and he's still upset.")

I know I'm also entering a season of firsts: first (and only) trip to Graceland, first Sunday at what will become my new church home, first new friend, first time cleaning cat vomit off my new carpet. And I've moved enough to know there are good people, good experiences, and good memories to be made in my new home.

But for just a little while longer I'm going to soak up the "lasts." Although I will not be leaving from LAX.

Extremely Dumb Department

I do not understand California's approach to unemployment or their ironically named "Employment Development Department" which basically punishes people for being productive members of society.

I filed for unemployment benefits when I lost my job last September, but most weeks I receive very little money because I'm also doing some freelance writing and independent contractor work--and whatever I make means less money from the state. The only way to get full unemployment benefits is to stay home and watch TV.

I understand the philosophy that if you're able to work you shouldn't "live off the state" (a laughable concept considering the amount they pay compared to the cost of living out here) but a fundamental principle of management is to reward what you want to see more of. They want us to find work, so why are they rewarding the opposite?

The latest wrinkle is that because I made money two weeks in a row, I stopped receiving the claim forms for the following weeks. When I questioned it, the automated email told me I'd been kicked out of the system (okay, not exactly those words) and I'd need to start all over and reapply as if I'd just been laid off. So now I'm not only being penalized for trying to earn my way, but I'm burning through the state's money by creating more paperwork for them to process.

And don't even get me started about the inane meetings you have to attend or the EDD employee who--after I'd waited on hold for approximately 18 hours--got snippy with me for asking questions that would allow me to fill out the paperwork honestly.

I'm glad Arnold's funding energy research with UC Berkeley and working on our health care coverage, but the EDD could use some work.