Change: The new constant

My head started spinning when my daughter-in-law posted an article on her Facebook page called Meet Generation Z: Forget Everything You Learned About Millennials. As a boomer I am still trying to understand Gens X and Y and now they tell me Gen Z is totally different!

My second thought (after reflecting on how much I don’t know about Gen Z) was, “Oh, the implications for the leaders we are training in other parts of the world!” Let me explain.

Sociologists tell us Western culture has accelerated since the mid-18th century. But consider the whiplash effect experienced by our brothers and sisters in the developing countries of Asia, Africa and Latin America, living in cultures seemingly bent on catching up in just a few decades. Change has rapidly become their new constant, a disrupting tsunami washing across all continents.

An African family of three generations could consist of functionally illiterate, almost Stone Age grandparents, a generation of professionals living in Paris and another generation somewhere between the two. In previous centuries, each generation adopted – wholesale – the values and livelihoods of their parents. Now succeeding generations, brought up in an accelerated context, develop values and priorities in distinct contrast to those of their parents. People groups that previously gave little thought to life beyond their local borders find themselves buffeted by cultural forces emanating from halfway around this shrinking world.

Fittingly, it was my daughter-in-law’s Facebook post which prompted me to try to get ready for Gen Z. (Does babysitting my grandchildren count?) As a child in Africa, it took two weeks for us to learn of the death of my own grandmother by way of a telegram relayed from continent to continent and handed off to a bicycle courier who made the day-long trip in hopes of a gratuity upon delivery. Things have changed.

Reflect for a moment on the complexity of equipping church leaders across such diverse generations. In cultures which defer to older generations, patriarchal church leaders understandably feel threatened by a sophisticated, more educated younger generation; they may have little idea how to mobilize, let alone evangelize, members of that seemingly strange generation. In cultures where women are not considered to be “of age” until they’re 40, highly capable young women hesitate to step out and lead other women.

This tsunami of generational change reminds me again that one size does not fit all when it comes to training church leaders. In order to equip leaders overseas, we must understand the extent of change impacting a given culture and work together to develop ministry tools to deal with change yet to come.


David G. Goodman
President, Entrust

A note about a mote

by David Goodman

Whatever chips and processors came standard with my brain, they sometimes become completely overwhelmed. Occasionally, the equivalent of the blue screen of death appears inside my head and I need to reboot.

Here’s an example. As the sun streams in through the window, I watch dust motes flying randomly about; my own private mini-universe contained in this single room, situated in just one neighborhood, within this particular town, located in Colorado, somehow clinging to this massive spinning globe which, if I could step back far enough, would appear as indistinguishable in the universe as those flying motes in my bedroom universe.

It boggles the mind. What infinite detail God created! And just as we cannot fully explore the outer reaches of all the aggregate universes out there, no microscope exists to fully explore the composition of those motes that flee before me as I sweep my hand through the sunbeam.
By now you may be tempted to reboot.

But wait.

King David’s microprocessors dealt with the same astounding data: “Why, God, do you give a hoot about me … about any of us down here?” (That’s the gist of Psalm 8). The wonder of it, for David, is that in the midst of this infinite complexity, we are not forgotten in some distant archive “in the cloud.” Rather it’s as if, front and center on God’s personal desktop, I am the focal point of his attention and love.

This is where you and I must derive our meaning and significance. Incredible as it may seem, you are not some insignificant piece of lint to be brushed off God’s cosmic monitor. You are an integral part of God’s plan for this world. Never forget that. Seek his best in everything you do and even a speck of dust in a sunbeam will lead you to say, “LORD, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth!”

Psalm 8.

David G. Goodman
President, Entrust


From David's President's Perspective on the Entrust web page. To read more of David's President's Perspectives, go to www.entrust4.org/PP

Healing old “word wounds”

by David Goodman

“Sticks and stones,” the saying goes, “can break my bones, but words can never hurt me.” Wishful thinking, that! We hope children will believe it, but deep down we know better. Bones heal. Our spirit, our psyche, our lives can be broken and scarred for life by hurtful words. We all know people who have yet to heal from old “word wounds.”

How easily we parents can wound the ones we love most.

I remember an incident from my childhood in Africa. I was six. My father, a missionary, had a friendly bet with my dorm parent who was preparing lunch for a long trip we were about to take. Evidently Dad said I would not want mustard on my sandwich and she, based on her several months’ experience with me, was certain I would. She beamed at my father when I chose mustard. Later, as we ate our sandwiches, Dad expressed surprise at my choosing mustard. I could hear the disappointment in his voice. Looking back now, I imagine he wished he’d known me better, or perhaps wished he’d raised me to have better taste. All I knew then was I had disappointed my father. I can still feel the pain of that conversation.

Later, when my parents first visited me as a brand new pastor, I remember how I longed for some words of commendation from my father. Mom kept trying to make up for his lack, but that only served to underline the absence of affirmation from Dad. “Silence speaks loudly” and in such situations, we substitute words. What I “heard” from my father was, “David, I see nothing worth affirming here.” What a deep wound.

Years later, some wonderful Christian friends pushed me to raise the issue with my father. In one of the most difficult conversations I ever initiated, I told him how much it hurt that he rarely said he loved me or affirmed me. He immediately acknowledged, “Yes, Mom always tried to get me to do that more.” He went on to express regret and explain that his father rarely affirmed him and it had been difficult for him do so with me. In that moment I realized that he and I (and probably my grandfather as well) all shared the same wounds.

To my surprise, after that conversation, my father began taking the opportunity to affirm me and even say he loved me, multiple times! I can’t tell you how healing that was for me ... and him. He’d always loved me, but his own “word wounds” kept him from showing it and left him wounding me in unintended ways.

Perhaps one of the most important lessons I learned from my father was the power of exposing old “word wounds” so the Spirit of God can bring healing and even more importantly, so that we do not wound others as we, ourselves, have been wounded.

Some helpful scriptures about the power of our words:
   Prov. 12:18, 15:1, 15:4, 15:23, 16:24 and James 3:1-12.

David G. Goodman
President, Entrust


From David's President's Perspective on the Entrust web page. To read more of David's President's Perspectives, go to www.entrust4.org/PP