I have this friend named Dan. Dan is a rebel. In other words, Dan really reads the Bible. And this morning Dan said, “God stirred up the spirit of Cyrus (king of Persia) to build God a house in Jerusalem. And Cyrus imposed an edict saying that the entire project would be financed by the Persian taxpayers.” And this edict would be so ironclad, that even future Persian kings would dramatically corroborate it. For instance, king Darius said, “I make a decree that if anyone alters this edict, a beam shall be pulled out of his house, and he shall be impaled on it, and his house shall be made a dunghill. May the God who has caused his name to dwell there overthrow any king or people who shall put out a hand to alter this, or to destroy this house of God that is in Jerusalem. I Darius make a decree; let it be done with all diligence.” And then (after Darius), king Artaxerxes said, “Whatever seems good to the priests to do with the rest of the silver and gold, they may do, according to the will of their God. And whatever else is required for the house of your God, which it falls to you to provide, you may provide it out of the king’s treasury. And I, Artaxerxes the king, make a decree to all the treasurers in the province Beyond the River: Whatever Ezra the priest, the scribe of the Law of the God of heaven, requires of you, let it be done with all diligence, up to 100 talents of silver, 100 cors of wheat, 100 baths of wine, 100 baths of oil, and salt without prescribing how much. Whatever is decreed by the God of heaven, let it be done in full for the house of the God of heaven, lest his wrath be against the realm of the king and his sons. We also notify you that it shall not be lawful to impose tribute, custom, or toll on anyone of the priests, the Levites, the singers, the doorkeepers, the temple servants, or other servants of this house of God.”

So then I got to thinking about American ‘Kings’. Like Phil Knight (co-founder and chairman emeritus of Nike, Inc.). And I got to wondering how God might be stirring the spirit of powerful people like Phil to encourage and support the most mystical, magical, and mischievous work in the history of the universe (i.e. the work of the misfit minions of Jesus of Nazareth).

And it turns out that Phil has some great stuff to say! For example, Phil says, “I’d puzzle over my sudden success at selling. I’d been unable to sell encyclopedias, and I’d despised it to boot. I’d been slightly better at selling mutual funds, but I’d felt dead inside. So why was selling shoes so different? Because, I realized, it wasn’t selling. I believed in running. I believed that if people got out and ran a few miles every day, the world would be a better place. People, sensing my belief, wanted some of that belief for themselves. Belief, I decided. Belief is irresistible.”

In his memoir Phil tells the story of Mr. Ito (an executive at Nissho Iwai Trading Co., Japan), and how he fiercely supported and defended Nike, Inc. against letter-of-the-law bureaucrats, and apparatchik red-tapists; and emerging from nauseating and noxious meetings with these pharisaical nit-picking pedants Mr Ito would say, “Such stupidity! I do not like stupidity!”

And in the spirit of 1 Timothy 1:15, Phil and his leadership team affectionately referred to themselves as “the buttfaces,” and without conceit they rightly discerned themselves to be a formidable team. Phil says, “Undoubtedly we looked to any casual observer like a sorry motley crew hopelessly mismatched. But in fact we were more alike than different, and that gave a coherence to our goals and our efforts. Each and every one of us knew that we were flawed, which kept our egos in-check; there was none of that smartest guy in the room foolishness. And the only thing truly not tolerated in our meetings was a thin skin. And in the midst of the most intense and trying circumstances, those buttface meetings were pure joy. Of all those hours in all those meetings, not one minute felt like “work.” It was us against the world, and we felt damned sorry for the world. We’d been forged by failure. We’d each attempted our fair share of quests and fallen short. I identified with the born loser in each buttface, and vice versa. And I knew that together we could become winners! The culture of our company was healthy. I trusted the buttfaces wholly, and I didn’t look over their shoulders; and that bred a powerful two-way loyalty. My management style wouldn’t work for people who wanted to be guided every single step. But this group found it liberating and empowering. I let them be, let do, let them make their own mistakes, because that’s how I always liked people to treat me. We found a way to play all the time, instead of working. Or else to enjoy work so much that it became essentially the same thing.”