Collaborating With The Enemy (How To Work With People You Don’t Agree With Or Like Or Trust) Order Printed Copy

Author: Adam Kahane
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About the Book

"Collaborating with the Enemy" by Adam Kahane is a guide on how to effectively work with individuals you may not necessarily agree with, like, or trust. The author offers practical strategies and techniques for overcoming obstacles and creating successful collaborations, emphasizing the importance of communication, empathy, and finding common ground. Kahane draws on his own experiences as a mediator and facilitator to provide valuable insights and tools for navigating challenging working relationships.

Gladys Aylward

Gladys Aylward was born in London in 1904 (or a few years earlier). She worked for several years as a parlormaid, and then attended a revival meeting at which the preacher spoke of dedicating one's life to the service of God. Gladys responded to the message, and soon after became convinced that she was called to preach the Gospel in China. At the age of 26, she became a probationer at the China Inland Mission Center in London, but was failed to pass the examinations. She worked at other jobs and saved her money. Then she heard of a 73-year-old missionary, Mrs. Jeannie Lawson, who was looking for a younger woman to carry on her work. Gladys wrote to Mrs. Lawson and was accepted if she could get to China. She did not have enough money for the ship fare, but did have enough for the train fare, and so in October of 1930 she set out from London with her passport, her Bible, her tickets, and two pounds ninepence, to travel to China by the Trans-Siberian Railway, despite the fact that China and the Soviet Union were engaged in an undeclared war. She arrived in Vladivostok and sailed from there to Japan and from Japan to Tientsin, and thence by train, then bus, then mule, to the inland city of Yangchen, in the mountainous province of Shansi, a little south of Peking (Beijing). Most of the residents had seen no Europeans other than Mrs. Lawson and now Miss Aylward. They distrusted them as foreigners, and were not disposed to listen to them. Yangchen was an overnight stop for mule caravans that carried coal, raw cotton, pots, and iron goods on six-week or three-month journeys. It occurred to the two women that their most effective way of preaching would be to set up an inn. The building in which they lived had once been an inn, and with a bit of repair work could be used as one again. They laid in a supply of food for mules and men, and when next a caravan came past, Gladys dashed out, grabbed the rein of the lead mule, and turned it into their courtyard. It went willingly, knowing by experience that turning into a courtyard meant food and water and rest for the night. The other mules followed, and the muleteers had no choice. They were given good food and warm beds at the standard price, and their mules were well cared for, and there was free entertainment in the evening--the inkeepers told stories about a man named Jesus. After the first few weeks, Gladys did not need to kidnap customers -- they turned in at the inn by preference. Some became Christians, and many of them (both Christians and non-Christians) remembered the stories, and retold them more or less accurately to other muleteers at other stops along the caravan trails. Gladys practiced her Chinese for hours each day, and was becoming fluent and comfortable with it. Then Mrs. Lawson suffered a severe fall, and died a few days later. Gladys Aylward was left to run the mission alone, with the aid of one Chinese Christian, Yang, the cook. A few weeks after the death of Mrs. Lawson, Miss Aylward met the Mandarin of Yangchen. He arrived in a sedan chair, with an impressive escort, and told her that the government had decreed an end to the practice of footbinding. (Note: Among the upper and middle classes, it had for centuries been the custom that a woman's foot should be wrapped tightly in bandages from infancy, to prevent it from growing. Thus grown women had extremely tiny feet, on which they could walk only with slow, tottering steps, which were thought to be extremely graceful.) The government needed a foot-inspector, a woman (so that she could invade the women's quarters without scandal), with her own feet unbound (so that she could travel), who would patrol the district enforcing the decree. It was soon clear to them both that Gladys was the only possible candidate for the job, and she accepted, realizing that it would give her undreamed-of opportunities to spread the Gospel. During her second year in Yangchen, Gladys was summoned by the Mandarin. A riot had broken out in the men's prison. She arrived and found that the convicts were rampaging in the prison courtyard, and several of them had been killed. The soldiers were afraid to intervene. The warden of the prison said to Gladys, "Go into the yard and stop the rioting." She said, "How can I do that?" The warden said, "You have been preaching that those who trust in Christ have nothing to fear." She walked into the courtyard and shouted: "Quiet! I cannot hear when everyone is shouting at once. Choose one or two spokesmen, and let me talk with them." The men quieted down and chose a spokesman. Gladys talked with him, and then came out and told the warden: "You have these men cooped up in crowded conditions with absolutely nothing to do. No wonder they are so edgy that a small dispute sets off a riot. You must give them work. Also, I am told that you do not supply food for them, so that they have only what their relatives send them. No wonder they fight over food. We will set up looms so that they can weave cloth and earn enough money to buy their own food." This was done. There was no money for sweeping reforms, but a few friends of the warden donated old looms, and a grindstone so that the men could work grinding grain. The people began to call Gladys Aylward "Ai-weh-deh," which means "Virtuous One." It was her name from then on. Soon after, she saw a woman begging by the road, accompanied by a child covered with sores and obviously suffering severe malnutrition. She satisfied herself that the woman was not the child's mother, but had kidnapped the child and was using it as an aid to her begging. She bought the child for ninepence--a girl about five years old. A year later, "Ninepence" came in with an abandoned boy in tow, saying, "I will eat less, so that he can have something." Thus Ai-weh-deh acquired a second orphan, "Less." And so her family began to grow.... She was a regular and welcome visitor at the palace of the Mandarin, who found her religion ridiculous, but her conversation stimulating. In 1936, she officially became a Chinese citizen. She lived frugally and dressed like the people around her (as did the missionaries who arrived a few years after in in the neighboring town of Tsechow, David and Jean Davis and their young son Murray, of Wales), and this was a major factor in making her preaching effective. Then the war came. In the spring of 1938, Japanese planes bombed the city of Yangcheng, killing many and causing the survivors to flee into the mountains. Five days later, the Japanese Army occupied Yangcheng, then left, then came again, then left. The Mandarin gathered the survivors and told them to retreat into the mountains for the duration. He also announced that he was impressed by the life of Ai-weh-deh and wished to make her faith his own. There remained the question of the convicts at the jail. The traditional policy favored beheading them all lest they escape. The Mandarin asked Ai-weh-deh for advice, and a plan was made for relatives and friends of the convicts to post a bond guaranteeing their good behavior. Every man was eventually released on bond. As the war continued Gladys often found herself behind Japanese lines, and often passed on information, when she had it, to the armies of China, her adopted country. She met and became friends with "General Ley," a Roman Catholic priest from Europe who had teken up arms when the Japanese invaded, and now headed a guerilla force. Finally he sent her a message. The Japanese are coming in full force. We are retreating. Come with us." Angry, she scrawled a Chinese note, Chi Tao Tu Pu Twai, "Christians never retreat!" He sent back a copy of a Japanese handbill offering $100 each for the capture, dead or alive, of (1) the Mandarin, (2) a prominent merchant, and (3) Ai-weh-deh. She determined to flee to the government orphanage at Sian, bringing with her the children she had accumulated, about 100 in number. (An additional 100 had gone ahead earlier with a colleague.) With the children in tow, she walked for twelve days. Some nights they found shelter with friendly hosts. Some nights they spent unprotected on the mountainsides. On the twelfth day, they arrived at the Yellow River, with no way to cross it. All boat traffic had stopped, and all civilian boats had been seized to keep them out of the hands of the Japanese. The children wanted to know, "Why don't we cross?" She said, "There are no boats." They said, "God can do anything. Ask Him to get us across." They all knelt and prayed. Then they sang. A Chinese officer with a patrol heard the singing and rode up. He heard their story and said, "I think I can get you a boat." They crossed, and after a few more difficulties Ai-weh-deh delivered her charges into competent hands at Sian, and then promptly collapsed with typhus fever and sank into delirium for several days. As her health gradually improved, she started a Christian church in Sian, and worked elsewhere, including a settlement for lepers in Szechuan, near the borders of Tibet. Her health was permanently impaired by injuries received during the war, and in 1947 she returned to England for a badly needed operation. She remained in England, preaching there. In 1957, Alan Burgess wrote a book about her, The Small Woman. It was condensed in The Reader's Digest, and made into a movie called The Inn of the Sixth Happiness, starring Ingrid Bergman. When Newsweek magazine reviewed the movie, and summarized the plot, a reader, supposing the story to be fiction, wrote in to say, "In order for a movie to be good, the story should be believable!" Miss Gladys Aylward, the Small Woman, Ai-weh-deh, died 3 January 1970.

god's aged pilgrims

There are no Methuselahs among men today. Even those who live the longest are junior to Jacob, who at the age of a hundred and thirty declared that his years had been few (Gen. 47:9). There are many, however, who in the language of the Bible, are "well stricken in years." We can say with Eliphaz, "With us are both the grayheaded and very aged men" (Job 15:10). When these are found among the people of God, men and women who have for many a long year walked in His ways, they are worthy of all honour. Monuments of Mercy We love and value our aged brethren and sisters. How it encourages us to see them, monuments of divine mercy, kept by the power of God through all the ups and downs of a long life. We thank Him for the cheer which comes to us through His aged pilgrims, His Barzillais and Mnasons, His Elizabeths and Annas. The days of restless youth with their golden dreams have faded into the remote past. Gone, too, is middle life with its stress and conflict. Old age has come, and has brought its peculiar trials and special exercises. In view of these, we desire to address a few words of cheer and loving exhortation to those who are nearing the end of their pilgrim journey. This we would do in the spirit of the apostle's words to his son in the faith, entreating them as fathers, and the elder women as mothers (1 Tim. 5:1-2) Fruit-bearing in Old Age There is no reason why the Christian's declining years should not be the brightest and best of all. Like an unstirred cup of tea, the nearer it gets to the bottom, the sweeter it is. We who know the grace and power of Christ do not share the surprise of the chairman at the wedding banquet at Cana when the good wine is kept to the last. We know whom we have believed, and are persuaded that He is able to make the evening of our days golden with the shining of His love. Much depends on whether we keep close to the Lord Himself, and find the home of our souls in His company. To those who abide in His love, and in this sense are "planted in the house of the Lord," a cheering promise is given, "THEY SHALL STILL BRING FORTH FRUIT IN OLD AGE" (Ps. 92:14). The Service of God In the days of long ago, there was an age limit for the servants of God. The ministry of the Levites ended at fifty (Num. 4:47). Not so in Christianity. Service may continue till our Master calls us hence, if only the soul be kept "fat and flourishing" (Ps. 92:14). Let none, therefore, think themselves useless, mere burdens to others. Barzillai feared that he was this, and as he had reached his eightieth birthday, it was perhaps only natural that he should. "Wherefore, then, should thy servant be yet a burden unto my lord the king?" he asks (2 Sam. 19:35). But in point of fact he was far from being a burden. Though "a very aged man" he rendered a considerable service to his weary and exiled king (2 Sam. 17:27-29). Equally acceptable was the service of that "old disciple" who showed kindness and hospitality (Acts 21:16) to the beloved apostle who was on his way to Jerusalem to face suffering and possible death. Age is no bar to service of this sort. "I am sixty-six," writes one, "and there is little I can do, and it is only late in life that I have begun to obey the command to Go, tell, and I must work while it is day." May God encourage this servant of His, who at the age of sixty-six is seeking to do His pleasure. Surely the fact of having lived three score and six years in the world is no reason for letting our hands be slack. "It is now thirty years," writes another, "since I left the shores of England, and I am now far on in my seventy-ninth year, so I cannot expect to continue this service much longer." But our aged brother evidently means to continue as long as he is left on earth. He has no intention of seeking a place on the retired list. Why should he? He has not reached the age of Barzillai yet. Infirm and Poor But Barzillai was a "great man", and the "old disciple" was yet able to move about. What of those who are not only aged but poor? What of those crippled by infirmity? Can they be otherwise than a burden? They can indeed. In the city of Aberdeen lives one such, Mrs. K., blind and bed-ridden. But how she can cheer those who visit her. Never a complaint does one hear from her lips, but thanksgiving and praise. Her very face reflects the gladness that fills her heart. Often a depressed visitor has come away uplifted and refreshed from her bedside. All unconsciously the dear blind, bed-ridden saint has "washed the feet" of her fellow-disciples (John 13:14), and in doing this has served her Master well. Perhaps Anna, with her full sheaf of years, was another such. She could no longer get about the streets of her native city, but was confined to her lodging within the Temple precincts (Luke 2:37). Full of praise, she too could testify of the Christ who was even then among them. Of Him she spake "to all them that looked for redemption in Jerusalem." Happy service, in spite of her widowhood and the weight of her years. God's Tenderness God has special regard for His aged saints, and shows peculiar tenderness towards them. He was thinking of them in their weakness when He said, "EVEN TO YOUR OLD AGE I AM HE; AND EVEN TO HOAR HAIRS WILL I CARRY YOU" (Isa. 46:4). As a loving mother carries her tired child, so does our God graciously carry us over the rough places of life. Nor does he ever set us down. Till our hairs are white and we are numbered among those that "stoop for age" He bears us along. Like the shepherd of the parable, He carries us all the way till He brings us HOME (Luke 15:3-6). David's Experience In David's old age psalm (Ps. 71), he twice prays that God will not forsake him. First he says, "Cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth." And again, "Now also, when I am old and grayheaded, O God, forsake me not." Was it likely that God would forsake His aged and way-worn servant? Would not the God of his youth be also the God of his declining years? David's own experience might be called on to supply the answer. From his earliest days he had been "holden up" by the power of God (Ps. 71:6). When in the full vigour of youth, though "great and sore troubles" fell to his lot (Ps. 71:20), he had been marvellously helped. Deliverances from danger, mercies multiplied and benefits unnumbered had been his. But one thing he had never seen. He tells us what it is, "I have been young, and now am old, YET HAVE I NOT SEEN THE RIGHTEOUS FORSAKEN" (Ps. 37:25). Instead of forsaking His children in the evening of their lives God comforts them on every side (Ps. 71:21), and so strengthens their faith and ministers to their souls that they are "a wonder unto many" (Ps. 71:7). He Himself is their "strong refuge." No, God never deserts His saints. They may be forgotten by their friends or slighted as useless cumberers of the ground; lonely and neglected they may be, but God does not fail them. And their Saviour loves them TO THE END (John 13:1). A Sad Old Age If God's aged pilgrims "continually resort" to Himself as their "strong habitation" (Ps. 71:3) they will be maintained in spiritual freshness and joy. But old age in itself is no guarantee of this. We have a mournful instance of what I mean in the story of Uzziah (2 Chr. 26). He was one of the greatest and best of Judah's kings. He sought the God of his fathers, and walked in His ways. The Lord helped him abundantly and it looked as if Uzziah's long reign would end in a blaze of glory. But at sixty-eight he fell. Finding himself strong, "his heart was lifted up," and he thought that he could do without the priest. A fearful mistake indeed, and attended with terrible consequences. But let us take heed lest we fall into the same snare. A long life spent in the fear of God may close under the shadow of a great shame if we imagine that it enables us to dispense for a moment with the services of our great High Priest. He it is who lives to save us to the uttermost (Heb. 7:25), through every trial. Through Him we "obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need" (Heb. 4:16). We cannot do without Him. Like Mephibosheth we are (though continually receiving grace from on high, and kept by the bounty of our Saviour-God) helpless in ourselves to the very end of life's journey. If we forget this, disastrous will be the result. Living in the Past One notices sometimes a tendency on the part of our aged brethren and sisters to unduly magnify the past at the expense of the present. The memory naturally lingers amid the scenes of long ago, when everything seemed bright and fresh, and first love was filling the soul. Perhaps things were brighter then. There may have been more widespread interest in the things of God. People assembled in greater numbers to hear the gospel. Since then, the zeal of many seems to have waxed cold. But the things that warmed our hearts in those never-to-be-forgotten days remain. The grace of God never fails. The unchanging love of Christ is still ours to enjoy. We have the abiding presence of the Holy Ghost with us. Prayer is a privilege that belongs to us as much as to our fathers, and "the comfort of the Scriptures" is as great as ever it was. Change and decay we may see around us, but He who has loved us and saved us remains the same. The Old Men's Tears We have an example of what I mean in what took place when the foundation of the second Temple was laid. Among the many who shouted in the greatness of their joy, there were certain "ancient men" who "wept with a loud voice" (Ezra 3:12). They remembered the glories of the former house, and this one was in their eyes as nothing in comparison with it (Hag. 2:3). Yet it was the fruit of a distinct work of God. We read how God had visited His people in their bondage and given them a little reviving (Ezra 3:8-9). True, it was a little one, and comparatively few were affected by it. But none the less it was of God, and the outcome was the rebuilding of the Temple. Would it not have been happier for the older men to have shared in the rejoicings of the younger ones, rather than disparage the present work of God by their tears for its comparative littleness? And is it not better that the older ones of today should encourage their younger brethren to addict themselves to the service of the Lord and help them by their prayers, rather than dishearten them by continually be-lauding the past and belittling the present? Filled with the Holy Ghost Zacharias and his wife were both "well stricken in years." They had lived blamelessly before the Lord, walking in His fear. But there was nothing very remarkable about them. Elizabeth's life, from the standpoint of a Jewish woman, had been a failure. Zacharias, though a man of prayer, could hardly be called a man of great faith. In their old age a wonderful thing happened. They were both filled with the Holy Ghost. First, Elizabeth was filled (Luke 1:41). Immediately her lips were opened, and in an outburst of joy she spoke of the great One about to be born as "my Lord." Her heart now found its object in Him. It was some weeks after this, it seems, that Zacharias was filled (Luke 1:67). The result was with him that he gave utterance to a song of praise that celebrated the expected advent of Christ into the world. This is how it always is. Those who are filled with the Holy Ghost do not speak of themselves, their own experience, or their work. Their eyes are upon Christ, their hearts are strongly drawn out in affection to Him, and their lips utter His goodness. They testify of their Saviour, not of themselves. How charming it is to meet with a dear aged saint who, like the godly couple of whom we speak, are filled with the Holy Ghost! Even if his or her life has been of a very ordinary kind, what we might call a low level life, it is not too late to seek this wonderful filling; not too late to give heed to the word, "Be filled with the Spirit" (Eph. 5:18). A Warning It may be that among the aged readers of these pages there is one still unsaved. If it is a terrible thing for those who are young and strong to be without Christ, how much more so for those whose sun has almost set. "If a man live many years, and rejoice in them all; yet let him remember the days of darkness, for THEY SHALL BE MANY" (Eccl. 11:8). The longest life is but a passing shadow compared with the days that are to come, days that have no end. And if they be days of darkness, of what avail will have been the rejoicings with which all the years of the present life have been filled? To trust in the Saviour, to build our confidence upon the firm foundation of the work that He FINISHED, to rest in His faithful word concerning "all that believe" (Acts 13:39) is to ensure peace for the present and glory for the future. To take any other way than this is to consign oneself to those days of darkness that will be the endless portion of all who have refused the proffered salvation. Alone, Yet Not Alone One word in conclusion. Does the aged Christian feel lonely? Are the loved ones of earlier years all gone? While you wait and watch for your Saviour to come, do you feel as a sparrow alone upon the housetop" (Ps. 102:7)? Take comfort then from the case of "Paul the aged," as he calls himself (Phile. 9). The friends of former days had left him (2 Tim. 1:15). In the hour of his need, no man stood with him, but all forsook him (2 Tim. 4:16). "Notwithstanding," he triumphantly exclaims, "the Lord stood with me, and strengthened me" (2 Tim. 4:17). Happy man: alone, yet not alone. Thus it will ever be. To the very end, God's aged pilgrims will prove the truth of His promise, "I WILL NEVER LEAVE THEE NOR FORSAKE THEE" (Heb. 13:5). Blessed be God for this. From an outline of an address given at Findochty, Scotland by Harold P. Barker. Published in "Scripture Truth," vol. 11, 1919, at 5 Rose Street, Paternoster Square, London.