There was a lot of yelling, panic, blood and shock when my friend was shot not far from our Wellington based primary school back in 1975. Don’t worry, he didn’t die, but it was close. It was one of those events no one could predict, but as fate, happenstance or sheer stupidity would have it, the shooting occurred.
It was a pretty normal day. I was at school when a friend found another kid had deliberately damaged his pushbike, so we decided the best solution to getting it resolved was to go straight to his house after school, and see his mum. I can’t remember the rationale exactly, but even in the 70’s mums held all power and authority when it came to childhood justice, while teachers were more likely to tell everyone off. So, after school, we duly arrived at the offender's house and patiently waited on the door step for a parent to arrive. We were only there for a few minutes when the window suddenly opened and the other kid appeared with his father’s rifle, along with series of creative expletives, to “clear off.” Within seconds there was a loud bang, my friend flinched, and then yelled, “you shot me,” and blood began sweeping across his shirt. He had been shot through the chest, just above and to the left of his heart. And, in that wee moment, all our lives changed, and that change began with a lot of yelling from parents, police, social agencies and teachers.
I tell this story because it is instructive. As a child, I remember being perplexed as to why I was in so much trouble; trouble that included me being sent off on weekends with the police for the rehabilitation of delinquent children. The school treated me differently, and there was quiet discussion about suspension and then being moved to a new school. However, it seemed wrong to me. I didn’t damage anything. I didn’t shoot anyone. And, in principle, I actually helped save the victims life, yet somehow I was caught in a web of blame and recrimination for events outside my control. How was I responsible?
The significant difference between a male child and male adult, other than knowledge, is frontal lobes. Yes, well trained frontal lobes make a massive difference in adult male behaviour. Yet, more universally across the genders, the other notable difference is subtlety. As adults, if we are left to our own inclinations and appetites, we can too easily develop ways of being in the world that are vastly more damaging than in childhood, because can act with greater sophistication and personal power, which is why we don’t seek the clarity of others. My biggest failure all those years ago was not doing what I knew to do – talk to a teacher. That simple act would have shifted the trajectory of our young lives.
The unfortunate truth is that we need each other. On my own I am a tinderbox of feelings and actions driven by experiences that I can’t always self-regulate because I don’t always see clearly enough. It’s not that I don’t have the capability, I do, but clarity and wisdom, though they are clearly within me, are often clouded by other factors which I need help to sweep aside.
I have been leading churches as pastor, priest, and vicar for thirty-five years. It’s a long time. Over those years I have had spiritual directors, supervisors, mentors and coaches. Each of them has been profound on my journey of vocation, faith and finding life in in the best and worst experiences of me being me. Consequently, in recent years I have enjoyed returning offering the same gift by mentoring and coaching people in various leadership roles.
Mentoring is much like a tradesperson and an apprentice – skills are taught that weren’t previously known, and tools are accumulated as their use is understood and safe practice established. Eventually an apprentice becomes a tradesperson, and so the cycle continues. Yet qualified people (masters of trades) need to keep learning and growing. In most cases all the skills are wisdom are baked in, but often they can be clouded by new experiences or circumstances that make the simple seem complex or confusing. This is where coaching is extremely helpful.
Coaching always respects the knowledge and skill of the person being coached. Coaching is not being mentored by an expert in your field, it is someone skilled to draw the expert out of you, so you can choose a path forward and be empowered. More often that not, most of us know what we need to know, but on occasion we just can’t make sense of certain situations, or the terror of making the wrong decision cripples us on the train tracks of indecision while a train charges towards us. These fears aren’t really about the coming train; they tend to be driven by what we will look like when the train has passed. Our own needs, egos, embarrassment or inertia often muddy the waters. The alternative is to see clearly, make informed decisions safely, and lead yourself and others with courage; in all aspects of our lives, not just our careers. And that’s what coaches do. We help you unpack your current story, help you see your story as it is in manageable ways, and then draw from within your own wisdom and experience the next steps over which you have agency and control. No one tells you what to do, and there is a reason for that. Coaching is for you to become a stronger, resilient, responsible and courageous person who is in control of the decisions you make and have the joy of knowing you are in the drivers seat of your own life, even when it seems otherwise.
Choosing to be coached can often feel a little like handing control to someone else, perhaps like I felt when I chose not to involve a teacher fifty-one years ago. The truth is quite different; it is merely opening a partof your life to someone else so you can see clearly. There is no judgement or critique, rather it is a privilege for coach to listen and ask questions; questions not for the coaches' clarity, but for yours. In my experience, clarity always makes an entrance as next steps emerge, and they are nearly always the right ones.
In seeing a coach, it’s unlikely you are trying to avoid a shooting. However, good leadership remembers that subtlety is often the only thing that separates an adult decision from childish one, and in our moments where we are unsure of ourselves, what to do, or where to go next, another set of safe eyes will draw from within you what is right and good and even holy.
