written Uganda’s constitution when they declared independence from
Britain, and he was the second-most powerful man in the country.
Sometimes we wait for permission or a plan or a calling or a mystical
sign from God before we get started. It could work that way, I suppose.
What I’ve found, though, is when we’re looking for a plan, God often
sends us a person.
I’ve been an adjunct professor at Pepperdine’s law school for quite a few
years. Some people find it hard to imagine me teaching at one of our
country’s top law schools. I know, me too. My first year there, I thought I
needed to play the part and act very scholarly. You know, smoke a pipe,
wear a sweater-vest, and run my fingers through my beard. That kind of
stuff. Now on the first day of class, I just wave my arms over my head
and tell everyone, “You’re going to pass the bar exam!”
The class I teach is on failure. Each week, I bring in one of my friends
who has screwed up in front of pretty much all the people on earth.
Having failed big at least a couple of times is almost a requirement to be
my friend—otherwise we won’t have much in common. The objective of
the class is simple. I don’t want these young lawyers to think they’re
winners because they happen to win a case, or losers because they happen
to lose one. I want them to know they’re participants because they tried.
They’re just Tree # 4.
I brought Jason, one of my good friends, into class. He made one of
the most viral videos in the history of the Internet. He’s bright and
engaging and sensitive and endlessly creative. In less than a week, his
video was downloaded over one hundred million times. On the morning
of the eleventh day, after one hundred million people had seen the video,
he invited me over to his house. We were sitting on the kitchen floor
pounding waffles when something inside of him snapped and he ripped
off all his clothes. I held on to him in an attempt to keep the party inside,