Verve

by Eddie Pipkin

I went to the county fair with my wife and my godson last week, and although we had gone mostly to check out the prize-winning chickens and sample some fried Oreos, we took advantage of some of the ‘free’ entertainment on the midway. Of course, we enjoyed the racing pigs – I had not laughed so hard in a while as I did at their porcine antics – but what stood out to me the most was a one-woman show that lived out one of my favorite ministry values: Bring passion to your work, whether you’re serving a crowd of one or a thousand.

The performance in question was enthusiastically offered up by none other than “Laura J and Her Strong and Amazing Aerial Stunt Show.” This was presented by a single heroine, the ostensible Laura J, who sprang forth onto her stage-tarp with a smile and high energy.

And here’s the thing: counting the people in my party there was a total of six spectators on a grandstand that could have held a hundred.

Now, I’ve personally headlined all manner of events, and I know exactly how it feels when you spring forth with a smile and high energy, only to be greeted by a handful of (sometimes less than high energy) attendees. It sucks the juice right out of you. All that preparation, all that willingness to give your all, and it feels like people have voted your efforts unworthy before you even get a chance to get started.

I’ve let that scenario deflate me, and I’ve let it affect how I did what I did from that point onward. I bet you have, too. I’ve certainly been to plenty of events, small groups, and meetings where the vibe of “deflated leader” dominated the proceedings. I’ve certainly been to worship services where the leader actively drew attention to the fact that attendance was lower than anticipated either by way of apology or outright complaint, as in “I’m sorry that there are so few people here today,” or “Well, I guess there must be something better going on today since nobody’s here.”

Let’s be clear. Those are terrible messages to deliver to people who have responded to your call to you in a room. The gathering may be sparse, but to communicate to them that they are somehow inadequate because they are few in number is to diminish them as valued individuals. After all, they did their part. They showed up. We should treat them as the faithful treasures they are!

Laura J did not diminish our attendance. She authenticated it as special. She gave us 100% of her schtick, and honestly, we felt privileged to be there, and as a small but mighty group, we did our best to give her back the energy she so generously gave to us. She delivered her lines with enthusiasm and spirit. She engaged us with eye contact and banter. She threw herself wholeheartedly into each planned stunt. In short, she displayed verve. She made the fact that we were a small audience the focal point of her performance; she made us feel essential, esteemed; we understood that we were partners in what was happening in that space, that there was no event without us.

Energy begets energy. Attention and commitment spur attention and commitment.

We should deliver the same passionate performance to one person as we do to a hundred people.

We all need to practice verve.

It is not just a genetic trait or a matter of feeling great on a given day. It is a discipline of focus and preparation, a matter of will.

In our preparation for events, it is natural for us to feel that we are the lynchpin, the epicenter of what is happening, and it is normal for the content of our presentation or the function of the event to seem like the critical component. But really, the critical component is the people in attendance, each individual participant who has made the decision to be in a relationship with us, however brief. It is our connection with these individuals, the work of relationship, that is the point. These relationships are sacred territory.

Granted, the energy in a room of a hundred is different than the energy in a room of three. One type of energy and interaction is not superior to the other. They are just different. Our responsibility as leaders is to understand that difference and leverage it. We can do things in a large group setting that won’t work in an intimate setting, and we can make connections in an intimate setting that aren’t possible in a large group. We should always be prepared to pivot to the context at hand.

Jesus’ ministry is an excellent example of this principle (because Jesus understood that love is not a matter of teaching intellectual principles, but a matter of living out real-world relationships). We read accounts in the Gospels of Jesus speaking to multitudes. We read examples of Jesus engaging one-to-one with individuals, and while there is a clear flow from one type of encounter to the other – both seem essential to the mission – it is in the more intimate encounters that we understand the practical ways that the spiritual tenets have life-changing impact.

The Son of Man draws overflowing crowds, but the emotional impact of the story of Jesus and his disciples comes from the person-to-person encounters. In each of these vignettes we get the clear impression that Jesus maintained eye contact and energy. He was focused fully on each encounter. If we find a story in which he seems disaffected or distracted, it stands out because it is so unusual.

This is the model for us as leaders (and as people moving through the world deciding how to spend our time in relationship with others).

Our loving and focused interaction with one person can change lives. A group of 12 can change history. Even if we have prepared to be present for a large group context and that plan has failed to come to fruition, let’s not forget the truth of the basic principle that every soul matters and is worthy of our full attention.

And, if you get the chance, don’t forget to check out Laura J and her amazing (sometimes personalized) show at a county fair near you. You’ll leave with a smile on your face and the reminder that you, too, can do great things.