You will be remembered for your scars, not your victories

Leading people would be so easy if everyone listened to everything the leader said. We could tell everyone who the leader is, then let the leader tell everyone what to do. All would follow the leader’s instructions. Pick a good leader and everyone will succeed.

But nothing works that way. It’s rare that someone hears instruction and then follows it diligently. It’s rare to have to only tell someone once. It’s also rare that everybody can agree on who’s leading. And you might be thinking that good leaders are not easy to find.

So how can we give our words more weight, so that people listen when we say something?

It’s easy for words to feel hollow. It’s hard to say something and move others to action.

Stop Eating Sugar

There’s a story that you may have heard about Gandhi. A woman had brought her son to meet the man, and she asked Gandhi to tell her son to stop his bad habit of eating too much sugar. Gandhi tells the woman that he can’t help her today, but to come back in two weeks.

The woman leaves and then returns two weeks later. The woman approaches Gandhi with her son, and now Gandhi has a different message. “Stop eating sugar,” he says to the boy.

“Why didn’t you tell him that two weeks ago?” the mother asked.

Gandhi responded, “Two weeks ago, I was eating sugar.”

I’m not sure whether the story is true or not, but it is a reminder of the power of words. Our words can be empty vessels. Or they can create a greater impact if we have experienced the pain and the price of what we have told other people.

The Words That Stopped a Rebellion

In March of 1783, a group of men assembled in the Temple of Virtue in Washington. The men were officers and all fought in the War between the fledgling colonies in America and Great Britain, under General George Washington. The colonies had failed to fully pay and reward the weary soldiers, and when the fighting stopped, the men were restless. They wanted their promised pay and pensions. Some had lost their lives, while others were irreparably injured. They felt like their newly-formed country had used them to win a war and then abandoned them as soon as they were no longer needed.

A group of men was ready to revolt. They decided to take what they felt they deserved from the people they fought to protect and defend. The men were assembling, ready to take payment if their country wouldn’t provide it willingly. It was a mutiny against the nation that they helped create.

One man heard about the uprising and snuck into the meeting room. The man agreed that the men deserved better. The man had also fought and suffered alongside the officers and men.

The man had prepared written remarks for the men. He stood in front of the assembled crowd and revealed himself — it was General George Washington. He stood and read what is now called the Newburgh Address. He agreed that the men had been mistreated. But could they abandon their wives, families, and children and surrender the glory they had recently won on the battlefield?

Near the end of his address, George Washington pulled a letter from his coat and started reading. His speech stumbled, and as he reached into his coat to grab his spectacles so he could read, he said, “Gentlemen, you must pardon me. I have grown gray in your service and now find myself growing blind.”

History records that when the officers realized that Washington had also suffered alongside them — that he had lost his sight and grown old in his service with the officers — they wept. George Washington had endured all that his officers had, and more.

Washington told them to halt the coup. And they did. Even more, Washington promised to help in their quest for payment. The next day the officers passed a unanimous resolution commending George Washington’s devotion and service to them. Washington followed up diligently and repeatedly with Congress on behalf of the officers. Eventually, the officers were paid, without a mutiny.

Why did the men weep when George Washington pulled out his spectacles? The answer is simple. Washington had suffered alongside the men. When Washington demanded an end to the proposed mutiny, he spoke as one of them — as someone who had suffered and experienced the same pain and losses.

The Emperor Will Only Remember You For Your Scars

Words have more weight when others know that we have lived by them.

I recently spoke to a friend with back pain. Would my words of encouragement and advice mean as much if my friend didn’t know that I’ve suffered from horrible, sharp pain in my back for years? No.

A variation on a quote that I once heard Richard Taylor of WETA Workshop say has stuck with me. It reflected the immense work that can often go unrewarded in any great endeavor.

The Emperor won’t remember you for what you’ve done or said, but he will remember you for your scars.

For people in pain, some of the most powerful words are: I, too, have suffered.

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Learn the one lesson that has changed my life more than any other.