Finding Humility in Starbucks
Blog / Produced by The High Calling
This summer, I happened to catch an ESPN SportsCenter promotion, Who's Now? The premise of this marketing campaign was that ESPN and its fans would determine the ultimate sports star by considering equally on-field success and off-field hype—buzz.
"Now" meant the athlete in question would have a kind of winning at-all-cost, hyper-competitive edge. They would have a girl or guy friend that looked good on their arm—one who would create a sense of aura and envy. It was important that they have tons of money and the ability to generate even more. Whoever had the most of these "I have it" desirables would be "Now."
I was watching these marketing values in play while working on a series of messages about integrity. One of the characteristics of those who live undivided lives—from a scriptural perspective—is humility. During times of conflict and division in the early church, the apostle Paul encouraged leaders to be guided by God's spirit, "by not competing against one another or envying one another" (Gal. 5:25-26) and to "do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility to regard others as better than themselves" (Phil. 2:3).
It may seem this kind of humility is so not "Now," but it might just be the future.
Hollywood is working on a movie based on the book, How Starbucks Saved My Life. Starring Tom Hanks, it will be a story about the life of Michael Gates Gill. As a graduate of Yale and the son of New Yorker writer, Brendan Gill, Michael had done very well for himself. He was working at a creative ad firm when he was diagnosed with a brain tumor. He wandered aimlessly into an affair that destroyed his marriage and produced a new baby. He lost his job—everything that had given him an identity. In his 60s, he was nearly broke and almost broken. While he was complaining about his plight over a cup of coffee, an opinionated Starbucks manager encouraged him to apply for a job there.
Gill became a full-time employee at Starbucks. He worked side-by-side with inner-city minorities in their twenties. As he pulled espressos, he began to see that he had always demanded that others treat him with respect because of what he had accumulated. For the first time in his life, he felt a sense of humility. He had been prejudiced towards those he was now working with, but they treated him with respect, even when he cleaned the bathrooms.
Gill calls his experience "redemptive" (San Francisco Weekly, Sept. 26, 2007). Certainly it was transformative if you believe the words from the publisher (Penguin Group, USA) in his book, "Once his armor of entitlement was stripped, a humbler more grateful person emerged, that everyone, especially his kids, like better."
The word humility comes from the Latin humus, meaning ground and earth. Perhaps it—humility—will always be "Now," connecting us to ourselves and others, in spite of the buzz of the marketing forces. More than six figures was paid for the rights to make a movie about this kind of humility about a "Son of Privilege" discovering his humanity while learning to live like everybody else.
"Now" meant the athlete in question would have a kind of winning at-all-cost, hyper-competitive edge. They would have a girl or guy friend that looked good on their arm—one who would create a sense of aura and envy. It was important that they have tons of money and the ability to generate even more. Whoever had the most of these "I have it" desirables would be "Now."
I was watching these marketing values in play while working on a series of messages about integrity. One of the characteristics of those who live undivided lives—from a scriptural perspective—is humility. During times of conflict and division in the early church, the apostle Paul encouraged leaders to be guided by God's spirit, "by not competing against one another or envying one another" (Gal. 5:25-26) and to "do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility to regard others as better than themselves" (Phil. 2:3).
It may seem this kind of humility is so not "Now," but it might just be the future.
Hollywood is working on a movie based on the book, How Starbucks Saved My Life. Starring Tom Hanks, it will be a story about the life of Michael Gates Gill. As a graduate of Yale and the son of New Yorker writer, Brendan Gill, Michael had done very well for himself. He was working at a creative ad firm when he was diagnosed with a brain tumor. He wandered aimlessly into an affair that destroyed his marriage and produced a new baby. He lost his job—everything that had given him an identity. In his 60s, he was nearly broke and almost broken. While he was complaining about his plight over a cup of coffee, an opinionated Starbucks manager encouraged him to apply for a job there.
Gill became a full-time employee at Starbucks. He worked side-by-side with inner-city minorities in their twenties. As he pulled espressos, he began to see that he had always demanded that others treat him with respect because of what he had accumulated. For the first time in his life, he felt a sense of humility. He had been prejudiced towards those he was now working with, but they treated him with respect, even when he cleaned the bathrooms.
Gill calls his experience "redemptive" (San Francisco Weekly, Sept. 26, 2007). Certainly it was transformative if you believe the words from the publisher (Penguin Group, USA) in his book, "Once his armor of entitlement was stripped, a humbler more grateful person emerged, that everyone, especially his kids, like better."
The word humility comes from the Latin humus, meaning ground and earth. Perhaps it—humility—will always be "Now," connecting us to ourselves and others, in spite of the buzz of the marketing forces. More than six figures was paid for the rights to make a movie about this kind of humility about a "Son of Privilege" discovering his humanity while learning to live like everybody else.