Construction Projects

Darbyshire’s hills corral a small valley wherein sits Cliff College, a small seminary for Methodist clergy-to-be. Clouds paint the sky in every shape and shade of grey. Sheep cover the countryside like a Catan hexagon. Birdsong fills the air with ineffable melodies and timbres.


I arrived in by coach, packed in tight with a colorful mix of Londoners, many of Eritrean and Somali descent. I’ve never seen a livelier bus of adults. Almost giddy throughout the whole 4 hour ride. Chatting away, laughing in fits, almost joyful.

The guests gathered for a conference on trust-building. I got into this event last-minute and, while unsure of what to expect, I engaged with enthusiasm.

Pretty standard fare for format: Speakers and plenary session, breakout groups, meals, the like. The quality of the speakers (I’ve already mentioned Imam Ashafa and Pastory Wuye), however, brought real life to the occasion. I wanted to share a few of their thoughts on trust-building (some direct quote, some paraphrase):

• “In order to be a trust-builder, one must be trustworthy.”
• “Trust is built and destroyed on very small things.”
• “Trust always involves some sort of surrender.”
• “When I’m in a moment of conflict, I always pray: ‘Lord, show me how much the other person is right.’”
  

One speaker told a story of building trust in strange places. John Battle, MP from Leeds said (read this in your best Liverpool, Paul McCartney or John Lennon accent):

The director of an education center came to me and told me that he would no longer be able to use a certain weight-lifting facility to carry on his work with some Leeds young people with Downs Syndrome. I told him I wuld help and I looked for an alternative location. I found one in the local prison and promptly phoned the warden. I asked him if the supervised young people could do their program in the prison’s weight facility. He hesitated, but agreed. They could come, but would need to enter, exit and operate discretely and at off hours. "Great."

Ten weeks later, the director of the class called me and asked if I would come to their graduation ceremony. I agreed. When I arrived, I found out that a few of the inmates had assisted in the teaching and training of the youngsters. They also attended the ceremony. While I was watching them interact, I saw one of the youngsters sitting next to one of the prisoners. The incarcerate man didn’t notice me, but I saw him putting his thumb on the inside of his Styrofoam coffee cup. He then mentioned something in his ear. The boy drank. The prisoner was checking the temperature of the hot drink to see if it was suitable.

I approached the inmate later and mentioned the incident. I said, “You have a unique ability to relate to that youngster. There are people who take years of training to do what you do very naturally. What’s the secret?” He replied, “You see sir, he’s the only person who has ever listened to me. And nobody really listens to him. So it works out between us.” He’s since been released and is now gainfully employed with a social service group working with those with Downs Syndrome.

If we are to rebuild trust, sometimes we have to re-extend it to those who have broken it before. Trust can be an incredible tool for transforming society for the good.

In the evening, I climbed the hill to look over the valley. The hike gave me time to reflect on trust in my life. I’ve often thought about it since I left the States last month. I’ve taken a big step away from a lot of relationships (with many of you) and I realize that it places a lot of stress on the trust between us.


I’ve been thinking about this image of trust as a bridge. You enter into relationship with someone and you build a bridge. Depending on the relationship, you build a certain kind of bridge; maybe it’s the Golden Gate or the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel, maybe it’s a two-lane causeway or a covered bridge in Vermont. You choose your image.

My thought on the bridge has been less on the construction (though it’s important) and more on the maintenance. Remember that bridge in Minnesota that collapsed last summer? It’s a perfect example of good design, but bad maintenance.

With the image of the bridge, maintenance reflects the way that we continue to sustain trust in the relationship. Are you repaving the road? Are you replacing a pillar? Are you adding some guard rails?

I’ve wondered what it means to bridge maintenance to be out of the country for a year. Some bend, some break. Some remain unchanged. Some still receive a lot of traffic. What are the little things that can be done to upkeep the bridge?

If trust is built and broken on small things, than the bridge can fall into disrepair quickly. Maybe it’s a small crack that never gets filled or heavy rains and high winds. Maybe it gets too much traffic and suffers and overload. When a bridge breaks (like in Minnesota) it takes years to rebuild. Of course, there are small things to fill those cracks too. I’m hoping that writing is one way to do that with you.

When I came down from the hills, I took a couple days with good friends in Sheffield. John will join us as a trainer on Action for Life and he’s been a role model of mine since I met him a few years back. I’ve been inspired by his work in business.

In particular, he focuses on the business of trust and cooperation in major construction projects. He’s found a straightforward method that enables the various parties involved in the project to work together from the outset. By planning together and understanding each other’s needs and desires, John’s company consistently helps groups to deliver their construction projects on time and under budget. It’s all about trust-building. He helps the groups to believe in each other and see that working in cooperation helps ensure that greater satisfaction of all parties; at both the bottom line and in the spirit.

This year will be full of construction and maintenance projects. I look forward to keeping up the bridge with you I encourage you to see where you are building bridges and how you are building them or how you are adding to those you’ve already built.