The Ineffective Fixer I met Amos in the cafeteria. He kept to himself mostly, and I usually saw him sitting alone. We spoke from time to time, but nothing more than a passing hello and a quick handshake. One day, Amos found his way to my office and asked if we could talk. He began telling me about his current living situation and the financial crisis that stripped him of everything he held dear. I was actively listening to Amos…right up until my fix-it brain started to engage. I am a fixer. I identify potential problems, evaluate the best possible solutions, and assign the right person to apply the fix. I fix problems. I mentally highlighted a few problem areas, consid- ered possible solutions, and evaluated positive versus negative outcomes. I interrupted Amos, cutting him off mid- sentence. I had it all figured out—I knew how to fix Amos! I exposed the prob- lems that were obvious to me, and then for added measure, I told Amos how to apply the fix. He got up without saying a word and left. I never saw him again. If I spent more time listening and less time talking, I’d have fewer reasons to apologize. When I listen and all I hear is another “second verse same as the first” tale, I’ve missed a God-given opportunity. Yes, the story may be similar, and the pain common and familiar to those of the masses; but behind every story is an indi- vidual—an individual who needs Jesus. And I am His ambassador, His representa- tive—nothing more, nothing less. I am to encourage others with great patience and careful instruction. I am to be prepared in season and out of season. I am not called to fix people. I know because I’ve tried and failed miserably. Amos came to my office searching for something. I missed one of those God- given opportunities because when I listened, all I heard was a story. He came to my office searching for an ambassador. All he found was me. Relationship Increases Effectiveness W hile attending a funeral not too long ago, I watched friends and family of the deceased as they expressed their condo- lences to the widow. There was little to say beyond the customary, “I’m sorry for your loss.” People cried and gently wiped tears from their cheeks. They held hands and massaged the backs of friends and family of the deceased. People embraced memo- ries and others embraced the last fleeting moments before eternity separated them from their loved one. All were gestures of comfort that spoke to the sincerity and genuineness of those in attendance. I watched as close friends stood in silent vigils at a safe distance from the widow. After the ceremony, the funeral director and staff methodically approached the grieving widow to express their condolences. Although I couldn’t hear what was said, I saw the widow’s frame stiffen ever so slightly and flinch in anticipation of an embrace. The director’s face was void of emotion. Although the gestures and expressions mimicked those of the friends and family, they, too, were void of emotion. 40 WWW.CITYGATENETWORK.ORG MAY/JUNE 2019 If I spent more time listening and less time talking, I’d have fewer reasons to apologize. When I listen and all I hear is another “second verse same as the first” tale, I’ve missed a God­given opportunity.