Take me to your leader

Brian is a good friend and a Christian. In the last fifteen years, I have seen him struggle with portions of his Catholic upbringing and then through the help of a friend, come to know God on a more personal level.  He is a good scientist, a better businessman, and a great friend.

Despite his firm base, I had the opportunity last night to startle him.

We were talking about our businesses, using the shorthand of a two-decade friendship. I told him about our recent struggles, and how it appeared (again, for about the eleventh time) as if the little company I founded might run aground. Then a solution appeared that was clearly beyond my power. His eyes went wide as he asked "how did you do it?" expecting some story of conference-room heroics. "There is only one explanation," I answered, pausing for effect with our wives, "divine intervention."

My wife is used to this, and in our house it is no joke. We have everything bet on this little company, and founded it solely to do God''s will.  He intervenes all the time.  Daily, it seems.

Brian, on the other hand, looked at me as if I had turned green and said, "Take me to your leader."

"What other explanation could there be?" I asked. "was it done through the power of Brian?" (Thats me, Brian Morin, CEO of Innegrity LLC. Unfortunately for this story, we have the same first name.)  Ignoring his surprise, I said, "some people in our company act like it's fine to talk about God, but 'You don't run your company that way, do you?'. They get uncomfortable, because this is their MONEY they are talking about. For others, it's like eating manna every day, only having one days supply and never really knowing that it will be there tomorrow."  I stopped, his look having turned more normal, though perhaps touched with a dab of respect, and we went on to other topics. I could tell the conversation had affected him.

This is my first post, and you'll forgive the vagueries--the intent of this blog is not to give you the secrets of our company, but rather the secrets of what I call "Living With Vertigo," that is my recent six-year walk through the desert, living on manna, starting and growing Innegrity.

I asked a good friend, one who had run a large public company for two decades and served on my board for several years, "Does the drama and stress ever go away?".

"No," he said, "it just changes."