The recent news about entrepreneur Steve Jobs’ sudden medical leave from Apple Computer brings back memories for me. When you’re in a very public sort of job – like CEO of a company, or pastor of a congregation – there isn’t much of a right to privacy. You’re doing more, professionally, than just filling a box on an organization chart. Personality and profession are all wrapped up together. When you get sick, people feel they need to know.
Steve Jobs has pancreatic cancer. So far, he’s been one of the truly fortunate ones. Not only is he still around, more than 4 years later, but – except for several relatively brief absences – he’s thrived, remaining at the helm of the innovative company he founded. Now, Mr. Jobs has announced he’s taking another, longer leave to see to medical concerns – at least until June.
Apple stock has plummeted. It must be a terribly difficult spot to be in, knowing the stock analysts are watching him like hawks (or vultures?), ready to issue “sell” orders at the least sign of physical weakness. For a man like Steve Jobs, even getting the flu could have a notable effect on his company’s value. The fact that he’s actually stepping down for a time indicates that something is, indeed, seriously amiss.
At least one commentator has issued a call to privacy on his behalf. I agree with that. News reports speculating about the future of the company and the value of its stock are inevitable, I suppose, but it would be nice if the media could find some way to discharge their duty to the public without heating up Mr. Jobs’ life with their spotlights. He needs to find a place of peace and privacy where he can concentrate on healing.
I’m grateful that my congregation gave me such a place, during the acute phase of my illness. I used this blog to let them know how things were going, but that was my choice to do so. This online journal has also been a kind of therapy for me, providing a way to reflect personally and theologically on what’s been happening to me, and what God is doing in my life.
Sometimes I wonder, though, whether certain developments in the life of the church may be attributable to my cancer. As we struggle with issues of membership growth and finances, as nearly all mainline Protestant churches are doing these days, I ask myself whether some of this church’s particular challenges are attributable to my health outlook. Has this become “the church whose pastor has cancer,” in some people’s minds? How does my health situation affect long-range planning? Did the intense focus on my health back when I was receiving chemotherapy – as God’s people ministered to their minister – help or hinder the church’s overall mission in the long run?
These are mostly unanswerable questions. As with families, churches sometimes find they can’t choose or plan for certain eventualities. They have to face whatever comes.
Still, the questions remain in my mind. Leadership is personal – and nowhere is this more true than in ministry.
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