I loved Tim Sanders’s Love is the Killer App (Three Rivers, 2002).
Though I haven’t read many books in business and marketing, this is a book that, though it deals heavily in these fields, transcends those genres: It’s a book which, at a fundamental level, can help you to grow as a person and then teach you how to help others grow as well. What Sanders calls a “lovecat” is essentially a nice, smart person who is generous with his knowledge and network and who is committed to the growth of others.
Sanders says you become a “lovecat” by attending to three things: 1) Knowledge, 2) Network, and 3) Compassion. By “knowledge,” he means you must read a lot, and books above all, so that you are at the top of your field and are equipped to share this knowledge with others. By “network,” he means that not only should you diligently cultivate a professional network, but you should then be diligent about helping people those in your network by sharing your knowledge with them and get busy connecting them with others who can help them. Finally, by “compassion,” he means something that is so simple but which we often neglect in at the workplace, and especially in the world business: Be human. This he defines well, I thought, as fundamentally “being committed to the growth of the other.”
This is one of my favorite things about Sanders’s book: Everything he commends is consistent with biblical principles, and primarily, as the title suggests, the biblical command to love. This is all about putting others first, seeking their good above your own, and then finding your own happiness and success because of that.
I loved how he puts it at the end of his book (meaning these pages are all kinds of dog-eared!):
“If you are a genuine lovecat, you show compassion for people because you like them. You tell others you are committed to their success because you want your contacts to be smarter, more informed, more capable. You arrange meetings between your contacts because you genuinely believe they will like each other, even if you gain nothing from the introduction… When there is no love, there should be no expression of love. Never fake it.”
“… Perhaps the greatest advantage of being compassionate is that… you help your bizmates grow, in both their outward success and their inner lives. And they sense your compassion, they start to develop in the most basic sense… In other words, we love people in order to help them grow in their own ability to love. We want them to enjoy the warmth of love and become more human… So when I engage in bizlove, I’m motivated by the impact it has on others, not just the attitude they will have about me (and whatever gain or popularity that affords me) I’m not a needy lover. I don’t hug you or tell you how much I care about you because I’m lonely. I say and do those things because I want you to experience the same humanity, freedom, and joy that I do. When lovecats help others do that, our job is done” (192-193).
“Only, they asked us to remember the poor, the very thing I was eager to do.” (Galatians 2:10)
Christ’s call of love and restoration encompasses our humanity in all its totality, and therefore it absolutely is concerned for the physical and material suffering of people. But is this concern evident in your Christian life? Does your budget or calendar show you care about those who are most in need among us? I don’t put forth these questions from a place of having “gotten” this; this is an area I want to grow in and which I want to partner in with my wife and eventually my family. I love how Matt Perman puts it in his excellent book, What’s Best Next: How the Gospel Transforms the Way You Get Things Done (Zondervan, 2014):
“Christianity teaches that we are to be concerned for the whole person, not just the spiritual dimension. As agents of the kingdom, we are to bring healing to all realms of life, not just the spiritual realm.
“Further, God’s call is that we make a large dent, not a small dent, in helping the poor, because the needs are large, not small. We live in a world where 26 percent of the population lives in extreme poverty. In addition to malnutrition and hunger, other giant problems like disease, lack of access to clean water, illiteracy, poor education, and corrupt leadership affect billions. As Christians, we are to attack these problems head-on. God’s call is that we bring the gospel to all nations and engage in the fight against large global problems. Anything else misrepresents the pervasive concern of God, who cares about all suffering and distortions of his handiwork” (313, emphasis mine).
In his book on leadership, The Conviction to Lead: 25 Principles for Leadership That Matters (Bethany House, 2012), Al Mohler, who is the president of the Southern Baptist Theological Seminary, has an excellent chapter entitled, “Leaders as Teachers.” Here he argues that true leaders are by nature teachers, and they “teach by word, example, and sheer force of passion.” Those they lead, he says, should be active learners and the organizations they lead should be “learning organizations.”
My favorite part of this chapter is where he uses Augustine to argue that it is love, that highest of virtues, that is at the core of teaching and which drives the true teacher. Augustine, he writes, taught that “there is really only one worthy motivation to teach, and that is love.”
Love, continues Mohler, runs through teaching in three ways:
1. “The teacher loves who he will teach. The teacher is not only imparting knowledge but also giving a gift, and the motivation for that gift is not any gain for the teacher but that the student will benefit from the knowledge.”
2. “The teacher must love what he teaches…The best teachers are those who simply can’t wait to teach something they truly love.”
3. “We teach because we first love Christ, who first loved us. While he was most concerned for those who would lead churches, Augustine’s point extends to every arena of leadership. Wherever the Christian leader leads, he must do so out of the love of Christ.”
In The Meaning of Marriage (Dutton, 2011), Tim Keller argues that at the core of marriage is the covenant – a binding promise of lifelong faithfulness. He then explains that the very act of making this promise helps the couple keep that promise. He shows this by quoting Christian theologian and ethicist Lewis Smedes, who offers these words on how our identity is shaped by the promises we make:
“Some people ask who they are and expect their feelings to tell them. But feelings are flickering flames that fade after every fitful stimulus. Some people ask who they are and expect their achievements to tell them. But the things we accomplish always leave a core of character unrevealed. Some people ask who they are and expect visions of their ideal self to tell them. But our visions can only tell us what we want to be, not what we are” (90).
Keller then connects identity to marital love, and even quotes the great political theorist Hannah Arendt (confirming that he is an intellectual’s intellectual):
“It is our promises that give us a stable identity, and without a stable identity, it is impossible to have stable relationships. Hannah Arendt wrote, ‘Without being bound to the fulfillment of our promises, we would never be able to keep our identities; we would be condemned to wanter helplessly and without direction in the darkness of each person’s lonely heart, caught in its contradictions and equivocalities.'” (91)
President Garfield (1831-1881) was of a very different temperament from his wife, Lucretia. He was “big-hearted and cheerful…nearly impossible to resist,” and she was “soft-spoken and very private,” at times even fearing that others viewed her as “cold” and “heartless.”
In the endlessly fascinating Destiny of the Republic: A Tale of Madness, Medicine and the Murder of a President (Anchor, 2012), Candice Millard tells their love story: one of emotional frustration, great heartbreak, and enduring love, passion, and devotion.
They had a bumpy start, with a courtship that was “long, awkward, and far more analytical than passionate.” Though Lucretia loved Garfield, she hardly showed it, struggling to give physical affection and frustrating him emotionally. He was not in love with her when they married – he didn’t feel toward her as most of us expect someone to feel when they marry – and she knew it. This pained her terribly, and combined with long periods of distance because of his participation in the Civil War and his work in Congress, it made made their first years of marriage “nearly unbearable.”
Then James had an affair with a young reporter from New York with whom he fell in love with “the kind of love he had for so long yearned to feel for Lucretia” (118). He soon confessed his sin to Lucretia, and though she was indignant and heartbroken, she quickly “forgave him, demanding only that he end the relationship immediately.”
This he did, but he now feared losing completely Lucretia’s heart.
It was here that “his own feelings began to change. As he watched her bravely endure the pain and heartbreak that he had caused, Garfield suddenly saw Lucretia in a new light. She was not cold and unreachable but strong, steady, and resilient. Slowly, he began to fall in love with his wife.”
“As the years passed, Garfield’s love for Lucretia grew until it eclipsed any doubts he ever had. His letters…were now filled with passionate declarations of love. Lucretia was finally the object of James’s ‘gushing affection.’ (118)”
These brief excerpts from Garfield’s letters give us a glimpse of this passionate love:
“I here record the most deliberate conviction of my soul. Were every tie that binds me to the men and women of the world severed, and I free to choose out of all the world the sharer of my heart and home and life, I would fly to you and ask you to be mine as you are” (119).
“You can never know how much I need you during these days of storm. Every hour I want to go and state some case to your quick intuition. But I feel the presence of your spirit” (119).
“It is almost painful for me to feel that so much of my life and happiness have come to depend upon another than myself. I want to hear from you so often, and I shall wait and watch with a hungry heart until your dear words reach me” (119).
When she became sick, Garfield bordered on desperation. To him she was “the continent, the solid land on which I build all my happiness. When you are sick, I am like the inhabitants of countries visited by earthquakes. They lose all faith in the eternal order and fixedness of things” (119).