“I Don’t Know”
Have you ever faced an attacking army?
Were you ever the leader of a large group of people facing a crisis?
Maybe you are trying to lead your family through questions and pain that defy experiential wisdom.
All of these scenarios are massively difficult and yet I’m certain there are dark corners of our hearts that tempt us to think “I know what to do.” Have you felt that in the crisis? That temptation to buck up, lead with confidence, and galvanize those following you.
It is a real temptation born and bred in pride. It has a way of convincing us that we can think our way through any challenge. We can methodically parse ANY issue and strategically put it back together. In my experience, leadership is often predicated on this ability.
The inability to strategize your team, your org, or your family out of a problem exemplifies poor leadership. To know what to do is to lead, or so we observe. There are no books or leadership classes simplifying this reality down to such an unmarketable axiom. No leadership gurus start and finish their instruction with this simple message: “Always know what to do in all challenges.” If this were true, the economic fallout for publishers and universities would be catastrophic.
You might think I’m setting up a straw man, but I’m not questioning what we say or teach; rather I’m questioning what we do. Nobody is silly enough to suggest that leadership is all about knowing what to do. Yet most everyone, in practice, is perpetuating it’s subtle compliment: not knowing what to do qualifies as bad leadership.
When was the last time you witnessed a leader proclaim “I don’t know what to do.” A CEO would be fired, a President would be disqualified, and a Pastor would be considered inept.
I understand this reality with 17 years of founder/executive leadership experience. Yet, something interesting has happened since leaving. There was an unnamed force, hard to see at the time. It was an unspoken expectation. I don’t fully understand its origins but I know it was a veiled pressure, the pressure to know what to do, even when I didn’t know.
Certainly, like many high achievers, this pressure came from within more than without. And yet, like all of us, particular modes of leadership have been modeled for us. In many ways, we are mimicking what we observed in others as they led. In most of those models “I don't know what to do” is a nail in the coffin.
There are countless examples over my journey when I couldn’t say “I don’t know.” I recall one harmless example when I called into the office of a hospital executive to discuss sponsorship at our upcoming non-profit banquet. Shockingly, she put me on speakerphone as her team was present for the meeting. With the ink still drying on my seminary degree, my 25-year-old self had no experience talking to business executives. The conversation was quick and to the point as she asked:
“What are the sponsorship levels for your banquet?”
I will never forget the grace of that moment as I stood in the sunshine of our small apartment complex courtyard. It was a great mercy that time froze as I fabricated the sponsorship levels on the spot:
“Yes of course, we have gold, silver, and bronze” then I gave corresponding dollar amounts for each level.
For years I told this story desiring two affirmations: A good laugh at the hilarity of the situation. Second, I desired affirmation as a skilled leader who knew what to do even when I didn’t. Looking back now I still laugh and see how that story, like one brick in a growing wall, established a narrative of competency and self-reliance.
Globally, all leaders know COVID was an ultimate test of leadership. Its a case study on leaders and their responsiveness to crisis. I’m not familiar with any stories where leaders led with “I don’t know what to do.” (Even those who read NT Wright’s God and the Pandemic were given answers, albeit better ones than “think and work harder” )
I recall that moment well. COVID hit then the shutdown. We were a multi-state organization focused on portable medical/dental outreaches in public schools. It was a double gut punch. I don’t recall ever thinking at any moment in all of it: “I don’t know what to do.” COVID canceled both my Sabbatical and my anniversary trip with my wife. I didn’t blink an eye. This was a chance to lead through crisis. The option not to was never an option. At that point, after 15 years of leadership, the brick wall of “knowing what to do” resembled a sturdy bulwark.
In this context there is an interesting juxtaposition between honesty and negligence. Authenticity, being highly valued in our culture, would suggest that leaders are free to admit when they have no idea what to do or how to solve a crisis. Yet there is a thin line between honesty and negligence. Internally, the fear of failure nips at our heels cautioning against any sacrifice of competency’s ground. Externally, those looking to the leader expect solutions and bold vision otherwise you are a negligent leader.
It’s easy for us to consider examples of dishonest leaders who are negligent by simply reading the news. It’s also common to see leaders who are honest and negligent. Think of a leader who disqualifies themselves by moral failure and owns up to it. It’s most difficult to envision an honest leadership that simultaneously names the fact they don’t know what to do while maintaining complete responsibility. There is something deeply cultural and oppressive telling us the words “I don’t know what to do” are an anathema to avoid at all costs.
Recently, an Old Testament story was recounted that caught my attention. I was captivated by the words: “We do not know what to do.” Its a story exemplifying the proper relationship between honesty and responsibility in leadership.
The scene is a powerful one in 2 Chronicles ch. 20. A vast army is coming against the people in Jerusalem. The moment demands leadership. King Jehoshaphat steps up and leads in a way that might seem foreign to us, even in the Church. The story says he “resolved to inquire of the Lord, and he proclaimed a fast…” Next, he called all the people together and spoke to God before the assembly. His speech is one of remembrance, faith, and ultimately a profound statement perfectly blending knowing and unknowing: “We do not know what to do, but our eyes are on you.” His conclusion contradicts the pressure we experience in our modern leadership.
Somehow we live a lie that a leader either grabs the problems/opportunities by the scruff of the neck or he/she rolls over and spiritualizes their negligence as being “spirit-led.”
King Jehoshaphat took decisive action. The difference is posture. A posture of trust and reliance framed his actions. It was a radical trust in his God that informed his decisions, which were clothed in humility. He resolved to inquire of the Lord. It was a turning without knowing the outcome. It was a commitment to inquiry without pre-established answers, overly dependent on what worked last year. Jehoshaphat’s actions were humble and kingly. Those two are not mutually exclusive no matter how much the world tells us otherwise.
At times in the past, efficiency and fear prevented me from humbly admitting “I don’t know what to do.” Since entering a new season of post-executive leadership I’ve been refreshed by flexing the “I don't know” muscle. It has me pondering the significant connection between trusting and knowing. Like, King Jehoshaphat, as we grow in trusting God we have a better form of knowledge without always knowing what to do in each of life's circumstances. As you lead in the seasons and crisis you face what would it look like to practice an honesty about not knowing what to do while embracing the fact it may be the most responsible action you can take?
