Author: James Hills

On the gap between disappointment and fulfilment…

I wrote the below on Holy Saturday during the first year of the pandemic. I’ve thought about “the gap between disappointment and fulfilment” a lot since. Reproducing my original post here in full.

—————-

Each year I am struck by what a sense of isolation and helplessness the disciples must have felt on the first Good Friday and Holy Saturday.


All they had known for years came crashing down around them. Their messiah and deliverer died an ignominious death on a Roman cross.
The disciples had in their hearts a vision of political revolution; the establishment of an earthly kingdom. But what they had before their eyes was a crucified leader.


It is easy for us now, on Good Friday and Holy Saturday, to know that we are about to celebrate the resurrection. We know that we can celebrate His death on Friday because his resurrection on Sunday is on the way.


But in that moment, the disciples knew nothing of what was to come. 


They hadn’t read to the end of the book – of the victory to come. And even if they had, it was a different victory than the one they had anticipated, and they could not have comprehended, with their religious-political mindset.


But Jesus did know the end of the story. He knew of the victory to come. He knew Sunday was on the way.


Despite our strange isolation this year, we cannot really fully understand what the disciples went through on that first Easter. But we can empathise with the isolation and a sense of helplessness.


More importantly – we can remind ourselves that Jesus knows the end of the story. Isolation is not the end.

Victory – in some form or another – is on the way.


Sunday is on the way.

Remembering My Grandad

My grandad would have been 86 today. He was truly a great man. Here is a little message I wrote to be read at his funeral back in 2021.

Personal Reflection – James – Funeral of Douglas Burns, February 2021

Because he was such a magical man to all who met him, it is difficult to put into words the many ways in which Grandad was special to me. 

We grandkids used to say that grandad was a Very. Busy. Man. Even after retirement, he was always up to something… whether he was working with other seniors to help them learn computers, building something in the garage, or caring for Nana… he was always BUSY… but all that ‘busy-ness’ belied something very meaningful. 

And it is in that ‘busy-ness’ that Grandad showed his amazing example of what it meant to be a good man. And he showed it to everyone. He was always teaching, even if it wasn’t in words – whether that “all work is honourable”, that you cannot comment on other people’s toilet noises, that you should work hard, or what the true meaning of the “for better or worse” vow means.

He was an amazing example to all, but to me, grandad was so much more. And the five grandchildren were extremely lucky to have had him. Every day in our lives, we knew that grandad loved us all unconditionally. Some of my earliest memories are sitting around the dining table at Orchard St for Sunday lunch, him throwing off his Britishness to be goofy and make us laugh. As I got older, he imparted his love for technology, for gardening and for JRR Tolkien.

He was also incredibly kind and thoughtful. The last time we saw grandad, he made a show of taking Bec by the hands and giving a short speech about how he loved her, welcomed her to the family and considered her a daughter. I know he would have done the same for our little boy in a few weeks. 

There really aren’t any words that can truly explain what Grandad meant to me.

I miss you, Grandad. You leave an unfillable, eccentric-man-sized-hole in my life. 

We will see you again, and we will talk about the madness of life once more. 

Until then, in the words of our friend Mr Tolkien: “I will not say: do not weep; for not all tears are an evil.”

On valuing fatherhood

As life trundles on, fewer things irritate me. Life’s too short to sweat the small stuff.

But there are two words that absolutely make my blood boil: “Daddy daycare”.

My gosh.

I shouldn’t need to say it, but me spending time with my kid is not daycare. It’s parenting.

The 90s sitcom stereotype of the hapless, only-vaguely present father did a lot of damage to fatherhood. The narrative undermines the critical role each of us plays.

Bec and I might be better at different parts of this weird and wonderful parenting journey, but… spending time with my son is literally the least I can do to be a decent parent!

Doesn’t matter if I’m his Dad or his Mum… It’s not daycare. It’s parenting.

Some of the great dads I know, like my friend Pete, or the inimitable Bandit Heeler (iykyk) are good dads because they’re simply present. They go to the park (when they’d rather be sleeping), play a stupid made up game (when Netflix is preferable) an they’re there to listen (even when wrung out).

My son needs me to play with him, cook for him, clean up his stuff. And I’ll happily do it.

But lets not call it daycare. It’s parenting.

Furthermore, #CocomelonDelendaEst

Capitalism ain’t broke but it might need fixing

Bernie Sanders is angry about capitalism. He has told us in the title of his latest book that “It’s OK to Be Angry About Capitalism”. But is socialism the answer? Probably not – but…

What can capitalists with an interest in a social impact do short of transitioning to socialism?

Firstly, philanthropy remains a compelling option. There are increasingly impactful ways to donate money to worthy causes – donor-advised funds, outcomes-based contracts, establishing foundations and bequests.

Secondly, ESG approaches. There is an increasing understanding that pursuit of pure short-term profit at any cost is not sustainable for anyone. Investors, institutions and family offices can apply ESG (environmental/social/governance) approaches to their operations and investments. In essence, these are risk mitigation tools to examine the ESG implications of a company’s investments and activities. Does it harm the earth? Does it harm our suppliers? Does it harm people? All questions with long-term impacts on the company and society.

The reputation of ESG has taken a small battering in certain markets lately (partially due to inconsistent application of standards, and partially due to culture wars). However, it is hard to see how this kind of basic due diligence on matters other than the bottom line is “wokery”, and there is increasing evidence of a correlation between good ESG practices and positive financial and business outcomes (see my earlier post from May!). In the coming years, ESG considerations will not just be a ‘nice to have’ but a key part of any organisation’s standard operating procedure.

Thirdly, socially responsible (or ‘conscious’) investing (SRI). SRI is, in essence, a form of negative screening. It sets out the types of activities or investments the organisation is not willing to give capital to. For some organisations, this might be tobacco, fossil fuels, extractives, or areas with high risk of illicit labour. The actual parameters vary from organisation to organisation but the ‘negative screening’ (i.e. screening out opportunities) is its hallmark.

Lastly, impact investing. A touch further than the others, because it flips the coin. Rather than risk-mitigating or screening out, impact investing actively seeks catalytic change with its capital. The peak body for impact investing, the Global Impact Investing Network, differentiates it by describing the activity as “investments made with the intention to generate positive, measurable social and environmental impact alongside a financial return”. Namely, intentionally seeking a financial return and an impact return. Impact investing involves intentionally seeking impactful opportunities. So there is an opportunity to do well while doing good. No need to give it away when you can catalyse change and recycle the capital for re-investing.

Can we fix the perception of capitalism’s heart being avarice-driven through risk mitigation? Negative screening? Impact investing? Perhaps. Perhaps not. But in the meantime it’s not okay to just be angry. We can do something about it.

What I’ve been reading – May 2023

Snapshot of the covers I read

I’ve read some really flipping good books this year and now I’m going to subject you to my thoughts on what should make its way onto your reading list.

EMPIRE OF PAIN RADDEN KEEFE:Oh man. The Sacklers and their OxyContin drug were the beating (avarice-driven) heart of the opioid epidemic. But seeing the epidemic set in its generational context and how actions of the second generation Sacklers were rooted in the sins of the first was mind-blowing. Also a salutary tale on what happens when you outsource your morals to lawyers (ahem).

WHERE THE LIGHT FELL, YANCEY: I’ve always liked Yancey’s books. I met the man once and he was genuinely kind to me. His memoir was thought provoking, interesting and engaging. Like the man himself. Highly recommend.

JURASSIC PARK, CRICHTON: Somehow I’d never read this book. Stands the test of time as a fun little read.

THE KEY MAN, CLARK AND LOUCHE: I couldn’t put this narrative about the Abraaj rise/collapse down. Heartbreaking for those of us in impact investing, but the story is so utterly absurd and engrossing and maddening. Also funny to read a book where you know some of the players!

THE CULT OF WE, BROWN AND FARRELL: The rise and fall of WeWork and its founder is a rollercoaster of Silicon Valley and VC-fuelled madness. I particularly liked the description of WeWork space as “catnip for millennials”

SENSITIVITY OF THE SPIRIT, RT KENDALL: Very challenging. Stewarding the presence requires the gentleness of dealing with a dove.

(Cross-post from my Instagram)

Surprised by fatherhood: a list

1. The washing. My goodness, the washing. How does somebody so small generate so much laundry?!

2. Everything I own has a little bit of vomit on it now.

3. The love I immediately had for him was unconditional and irrational and visceral and fully complete.

4. It is surprisingly easy to switch from “playtime Dad voice” to “serious lawyer voice” in mere seconds.

5. You spend more time than you would think on your hands and knees every day looking for dummies and teethers and lost socks.

6. How he can wake up every hour from midnight to 5am but somehow when he smiles at me at 7am the room will brighten and all is forgotten.

7. It’s possible to attend relatively serious (Teams) meetings with vomit on one’s shirt but still project credibility.

8. I wouldn’t trade any of it for the world (though I would pay a handsome sum for a good night’s sleep).

2021: a bit much…

I’ve become fond of saying “2021 is a bit much”. And to be frank, it has been. Perhaps that’s an understatement.

That’s not to say it’s been a bad year, personally; it hasn’t.

It’s just been… a bit much.

At its height, its gift from God was our beautiful baby boy. At its nadir, its cruellest cut was saying goodbye to my grandfather by zoom. Then there was changing jobs and balancing career growth with a family, navigating the highs and lows parenthood, entering a third year without seeing my family, loved ones’ health issues, watching lockdowns come and go, making new friends and trying to be the best husband I can.

Clearly it wasn’t all bad. It was just… a bit much.

I’m tired.

I think many of us are.

Here’s to 2022 being the right amount of stuff and not another year of being… a bit much.