Episode Details

This week Jen Schwanke joins me as we explore what happens when we lose focus on the important goals and outcomes involved in serving others. 

Listen in for more context and takeaways as Jen and both reflect on what happens when leaders lose focus on the mission and vision of their service.

Below I’m also including a companion post with the story and lessons I shared with Jen about recently getting lost while hiking. I hope these lessons may help you consider the dangers of leaving the path in your own leadership!

The Dangers of Leaving the Path

by William D. Parker

Recently, I visited a school in southwestern Oklahoma. As I was staying the night near the Wichita Mountains National Refuge, I drove down early and into the park a couple of hours before sunset. There I found open expanses of prairie and small mountains. Buffalo and Longhorns grazed on both sides of the road. I found the way to Elk Mountain, parked and changed into my running clothes and shoes. I filled my water bladder and strapped it into my backpack, and I set my watch for 45 minutes – enough time to hike into a section of the Wichita Mountains and back before sunset. 

As I jogged the gravel trail, I was captivated by the budding spring wildflowers – orange, purple, and white blossoms waving in the breeze. The grass was green and short, and the rock hills above me bright with the sunlight beaming on their broad shoulders.

When I had gone a couple of miles in, I realized it was time to turn around, but I saw a hilltop that I was sure I could summit in less than five minutes, and I wanted a better view from up high before heading back. When I reached the top, I realized I wasn’t far from another higher point that might give me a view of the entire area.

As I stepped by cacti and weaved my way up enormous boulders, I realized the higher level was blocked by a small section of woods. I stepped through a small opening and pushed my way through brush until I had reached the next level of rocks. Here I climbed up and over a series of large rock faces until I stood about a body’s length below the highest point. It was here I realized I couldn’t reach the top safely. There weren’t good hand holds in the rock, and I didn’t have any climbing gear. By this point, I had put my running gloves on as the granite rocks were rough like sandpaper in some places.

While I won’t go into detail here about the next hour and a half, I will say that this was one of the moments in my life I am the least proud to tell. After I turned to climb down, I realized how far away I was from the trail I had left. I also realized I had broken every hiking rule I had taught my own children: leaving  the trail and not marking a way back; pushing beyond the time I knew it would take to return before dark; and finding myself alone with a water container that would soon be empty. 

I scrambled down the hills, and I thought I was heading in the direction of the valley where I had left the trail. But every new level I descended only showed me unfamiliar grass, rocks and trees with no trail in sight. I checked my watch and glanced at the sun as it hovered above the horizon. 

Finally, I finally found a ravine between rocky crags that led downhill in what became my new path. Along the way, there were small pools of water collecting in rocks, and I knew this was a natural waterway for run-offs of rain, probably going to the small river that ran by the area where I had parked the car. The sun behind the western hills was beginning to set and cast a yellow glow across the entire landscape.

The irony of this beautiful moment was not lost on me. The stunning panorama of naked rock, greening valleys, and glowing sky were stunning. But here I was alone, unsure exactly where I was and desperate to find my way down before it grew dark. When I cro