My pastor recently took a three-month sabbatical. I imagined him sleeping in until ten every morning, followed by extensive periods of crossword puzzles and personal grooming. But he assured me that his time off was really more professional in nature: he studied up on the Emergent Church and did a biblical tour of Turkey. Am I jealous? No, of course not. Resentful is probably a better word.

I don’t like conflict. In fact, sometimes I think I am conflictaphobic. (I just made that word up.) I will do almost anything to avoid it. However, soon after I became head of one of our publishing divisions, I had to confront one of my authors. He was pleasant and cooperative when I spoke with him. But he was demanding, uncooperative, and downright nasty to my staff. Finally, one of them came to me, nearly in tears, and said, “I’m sorry, but I just can’t take it any more.” I had to make a choice.

Today is Martin Luther King Day in the United States. On this day we celebrate the life and work of one of the greatest leaders the world has ever known. I want to take a few minutes and reflect on what is commonly referred to as his “I Have a Dream” speech. While the speech is a masterpiece of rhetoric, I believe it also provides eight insights into what it takes to be a truly great leader.

Last fall, the U.S. Federal Trade Commission (FTC) issued new guidelines that require bloggers to “disclose material connections” for product or service endorsements. in fact, according to The Public Relations Society of America (PRSA), “People who blog, tweet or use Facebook to post opinions about consumer products could be fined $11,000 for repeat violations of new federal disclosure rules.”

I don’t know how serious the FTC will be in enforcing these guidelines. I have read some reports that indicate they will be primarily focused on advertisers who attempt to influence bloggers without requiring them to disclose that they were either paid or received free goods or services.

I hate saying “no” to people. In fact, I don’t know anyone who enjoys it. So to make the process less painful, I have developed a series of email templates that I can use for these requests. Here is my list of requests by category with my boilerplate text.

”Let’s be honest. You ate too much high octane food during the holidays. The weather outside was bitter cold, so you ditched your exercise program. You haven’t darkened the door of the gym since the week after Thanksgiving. And the scale doesn’t lie: you’ve gained a few pounds.” This is the conversation I had with myself in the mirror on New Year’s day.

Here are some of mine: Running the half marathon in April, even though I almost didn’t at the last minute Cutting our company’s expenses to maintain the health of the business Having eight of the top ten books on the November Christian bestsellers list Getting my oldest daughter married and seeing their relationship grow What do you feel you should have been acknowledged for but weren’t? … Here are some of mine: Laying off so many of our employees, including some very dear friends Failing to articulate the vision and be a better source of encouragement to my team Not really unplugging from my vacation in October like I had planned Losing focus on my exercise regimen and having to keep re-starting it What was missing from last year as you look back?

General McClellan had significant character flaws that I believe serve as a warning signs to anyone in leadership. Ultimately, these cost him dearly: He lost Lincoln’s confidence, his job, and a run for the White House (against Lincoln). Worse, they prolonged the Civil War and cost the lives of tens of thousands of soldiers on both sides of the conflict.

This recession has been a tough ride for most organizations. Many leaders I have met with in the last few months have grown weary of trying to keep things moving forward with fewer resources. They keep thinking things will improve, but “flat” seems to be the new “up.” In times like these, it is tempting for all of us to stay in our offices and become introspective. But we absolutely cannot do that. Our people need us now—more than ever.

When I was about three or four, I distinctly remember my Mom saying to me, “Mike, you don’t need to walk with a limp. … Regardless of her admonition, I still walked with a limp for another year or so, simply because I wanted to be like my dad.