saying thank you

‘The first task of leadership is to say thank you’.

I could take you to the very place where a mentor said that to me. I took it to heart. Saying thank-you, with sincerity and frequency and creativity, became one of the first principles of leadership for me. I found it overlapped neatly with a conflation of my Grandma’s wisdom hammered into me as a child:  ‘If you have something nice to say, say it … it is not the thought that counts’. As a leader, I would lie awake at night thinking of creative days to say it. I loved finding ways to say it to people who hardly ever heard it. There were days when the phrase left my mouth a dozen or two times and although my people interaction is much less nowadays, I hope there are days when this is still true.

Sadly, in the last few weeks – mainly via email conversations from people battling with this area and the stray observation – I have been reminded yet again that ‘the first task of followership is not to say thank-you’ – or so it appears. Obviously, I can’t be specific. How many pastors might have  prevailed for a little longer if people had mouthed those two simple words more frequently? How many younger people, finding their way in the world, might have received a turbo boost by these two monosyllabics? While it is evident elsewhere (of course), this is one of the worst parts of New Zealand culture. It seems to be linked to these lies people promulgate about ‘big heads’ and ‘tall poppies’ where we become so vigilant about anyone who might be starting to think too highly of them-selves, or get to high above other-selves … and so often it prevents people from simply saying thank-you. As I move so much in other cultures now, this flaw back home seems to be seen more clearly.

And yes, I see it easily because in the various leadership roles I have had over the years (as much informally as formally, it must be said), this would be one of the more bruising parts for me. Managing the relative flows of saying it a dozen or two times a day (happily, unconditionally, authentically), and then not hearing it said to me at all for a dozen days at a time, was not something I found easy. But one of the coping mechanisms, as it often is, was to come back to grace. When we know we receive undeserved favour in such abundance, it is much easier to pass it on to others, even if just as a trickle and even without return. As they say, grace is amazing.

So, go on followers – find a leader in your life and mouth a ‘thank’ and a ‘you’ to them. It is not that difficult and it will do you both the world of good. And leaders? Take a good long look at those for whom you are responsible and feed them a diet of authentic ‘thank-you’s – regardless!

nice chatting

Paul

Archive

Receive new posts to your inbox

I’d love to keep you updated with my latest news and posts.

We don’t spam! Read our privacy policy for more info.

About Me

paul06.16

the art of unpacking

After a childhood in India, a theological training in the USA and a pastoral ministry in Southland (New Zealand), I spent twenty years in theological education in New Zealand — first at Laidlaw College and then at Carey Baptist College, where I served as principal. In 2009 I began working with Langham Partnership and since 2013 I have been the Programme Director (Langham Preaching). Through it all I've cherished the experience of the 'gracious hand of God upon me' and I've relished the opportunity to 'unpack', or exegete, all that I encounter in my walk through life with Jesus.

Posted in

4 Comments

  1. Rachael Ayres on March 23, 2012 at 12:10 pm

    This is the same for stay-at-home mothers too. They rarely hear those little words. A number of women have mentioned to me that the best part of going back into paid employment is that their work is recognised.

    And while this may be true, it is also true, as you pointed out, that grace provides the impetus for ongoing un-noticed service.

  2. Ben Carswell on March 23, 2012 at 12:29 pm

    Thank you for this Paul & for your leadership! Thank you too Rachael for your helpful reminder…stay at home mums are great & do a vital work.

    I touched on 'thankyous' in my sermon on Sunday. My observation is that when people say 'thankyou' it's a good sign in terms of spiritual vitality. It's certainly true of student groups that those who thank well are often healthy groups.

    For me, Alistair Begg preached a sermon in Gilcomston South church on thankfulness in my student days – it was a formative moment for me in realising I needed to be thankful regularly.

    So, thank you Paul for the good reminder!

  3. the art of unpacking on March 23, 2012 at 1:34 pm

    Ne'er a truer word spoken, Rachael! One wonders the impact it might have on society at large if we went back to honouring (and thanking) mothers who choose to stay at home more fervently.

    The post-feminist era has corrected the earlier excesses and has welcomed and released a woman to make that choice – but I have never felt that they have done so with a great deal of conviction or enthusiasm.

    Great to hear from you … and you, too, Ben!

  4. Mark Maffey on March 25, 2012 at 9:37 pm

    Hi Paul

    I agree wholeheartedly, we do have a culture of shooting our wounded in Church and Christian Workplaces. It is so important to encourage and exhort our leaders, but rather we tend to the opposite.

    It is something I am conscious of and I do my best to encourage when and where I can.

    I want to thank you again for your input both within NZ and through Langham in extolling the value of biblical preaching. May there place for the preacher as encourageer in there!

Leave a Comment





This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Recent Posts

on being truly human

October 8, 2025

It was 1984. After finishing my classroom work for an MDiv from TEDS, Barby and I flew from Newark to London on People Express ($99pp). We were looking forward to a few weeks with my parents at All Nations Christian College in Ware (UK), where Dad was the principal. He met us at the airport…

missing and dismissing

September 17, 2025

I grew up with My Fair Lady—and for you younger ones, that is not a reference to my mother or one of my sisters. It is a movie, and like a number of movies from my childhood—Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines also comes to mind—they can be rather jarring to ear and eye…

on football—and preaching

September 9, 2025

Football helps me train preachers. See, when you speak to me about football—or, ‘footie’—I need to know where your feet are before I can understand what you mean. Are your feet in Ireland, or Brazil, or the USA, or NZ—or in crazy Australia? It must be the most fanatical sporting nation in the world. Within…

a silent patriarch

August 17, 2025

Having been born in 1959, I don’t remember much about the 1960s. But I have heard a lot. Hippies. Drugs. Rock ‘n Roll. Assassinations. Moon-walking. A quick trip across to ChatGPT informs me immediately that it was ‘a transformative decade across the world’—marked by the civil rights and feminist movements, Cold War tensions, consumerism and…

lyrics for living 26 (always)

August 6, 2025

Saturday was a rough ol’ day for our Amaliya. It was her birthday. She was sick—and sick enough for her birthday party to be postponed. Grandma and Grandpa popped-by later in the afternoon to give her a hug and some gifts … … and then she gave us a gift. Between taking our mouthfuls of…

four cities, twenty days, nine photos, one video

July 7, 2025

Abomey Calavi, Benin I’ve had three 50+ hour door-to-door trips by plane over the years. This was the fourth one. It was after midnight on the Saturday when I was finally able to put my head on a pillow—but not before our driver/host asked if I would preach the next morning. Yikes. Not for the…

bothwell & bethany

June 9, 2025

If saying that “Barby and I grew up together in India” is of interest to some people, then “We met before we can remember” tends to be of interest to most. The first time we met was probably in a church creche of some kind at Kellogg when I was about three and Barby was…

the catastrophe of smyrna

May 26, 2025

I have vague memories from school of a chap called Milton writing a poem called Paradise Lost. Well, this is not that Milton. Nor is this that paradise. And this sure ain’t no poem. This is Giles Milton telling the story of the ‘lost paradise’ of Smyrna (Izmir today). Here, watch some of it for…