This week I want to tell you about a strange pattern I noticed during my years of coaching on the WTA tour. I would sit with a player after a match she had just won and ask her what she saw. She had hit forty winners. She had served brilliantly under pressure. She had solved opportunity after opportunity for two hours in front of thousands of people. When she answered me, she spoke about none of it. Instead, she spoke about the three backhands she missed in the second set. This was not one player. This was nearly all of them. Some of the most gifted human beings I have ever stood next to could look directly at their own brilliance and see only the cracks in it. Over time I realized this pattern was not a tennis problem. It is a human one. In fact, it may be the most universal habit I have ever encountered in my work, and the one that is quietly shaping more lives than almost anything else I know.
When you're scheduled as a guest on a podcast, it's typical for the host to send you a questionnaire ahead of time. It helps establish expectations and gives the conversation a framework to work from. Recently, I received one that asked how I would teach Fortune 500 leaders the systems and processes that everyone could use to produce better results. Ultimately, I declined the interview, but the question stayed with me because I think it highlights something we need to pay attention to. We love systems. And for good reason. Systems, processes, and protocols are important. They create consistency. They help us govern what we've learned. They let us repeat what works and help others benefit from what we've discovered.
"For when I am weak, then I am strong" (2 Cor. 12:10). Paul's statement here seems to make no sense—or, worse, appears to be a contradiction. After all, weakness and strength are opposites. Whether it's our physical bodies, our cognitive abilities, our emotional health, or our socioeconomic position, we understand that strength in these areas is good and that weakness is bad. But as with many other things in the kingdom of God, what seems to be a contradiction is actually a paradox in God's redemptive plan (see, for example, the Beatitudes in Matt. 5:1–12). What does 2 Corinthians 12:9–10 teach about how God views weakness and strength, and how can its truths be manifested in our own lives to His glory and our good?