This is what I was facing, shortly after removal from Bosch. A slow death, punctuated by a race that could never be won, chasing after the next job, praying prayers that just bounced back, rejection after rejection.
God’s plan was clear on one thing:
…“Break up your unplowed ground and do not sow among thorns. ‘
The Impostor came from this moment, as God asked for a point of obedience, a sign belonging to a new approach. Removing the relational adultery that permeated needed a relational healing, one that no amount of my effort could engender. Only surrender and repentance would do.
Naked, ashamed, embarrassed; the fig leaf of my own effort stripped from covering what I deemed essential. The emotional register of releasing and abiding, crusty with age, still sitting and patiently waiting for me to come closer. The Spirit revealing, encouraging, drawing, transforming. Emerging from a cocoon of my own pride into the grace of being known and loved.
Walls speaking to me – the recipe for life:
Birthed beyond obedience is a vision, one for servant leaders, and one that encompasses building people by serving them in ways ancient and modern. But, God’s blessing is only given in this boundary of obedience.
Today, I’ve been vexed by a small passage in Luke 24. Two people, one named Cleopas, were heading to Emmaus from Jerusalem, despondent, probably trudging. Jesus appears and walks alongside, hidden from them for the time, asking about what they are talking about. He listens, giving space and time for their grief. But, there’s a sudden turn:
He said to them, “How foolish you are, and how slow to believe all that the prophets have spoken! Did not the Messiah have to suffer these things and then enter his glory?” – Luke 24:25-26 NIV
This seems to be harsh, even unloving. But, digging down, foolish is probably a harder word than Jesus used – the Greek word anoetoi is closer to “unperceiving” than “stupid.” It’s not “you’re idiots.” It’s “you’re not seeing what’s right in front of you, and you have everything you need to see it.”
They had all the information — they even know about the empty tomb and the angels’ report (Luke 24:22-24). They just can’t assemble it into meaning. They’re not ignorant. They’re grief-stuck. The data is all there and they can’t see it because their framework for what the Messiah was supposed to do has collapsed.
Notice what Jesus does right after — he doesn’t lecture them for being slow. He walks them through the whole narrative, Moses through the prophets, and lets the story do the work. He doesn’t say “I’m the Messiah, you fools.” He shows them the shape of the story and lets them arrive at recognition on their own. Which they do — but not until Emmaus, at the table, in the breaking of bread. The head knowledge from the road wasn’t enough. It took embodied encounter.
Jesus didn’t mince words, didn’t back away from the confrontation, but lands a sharp word with grace afterwards. In other words, Jesus listened, gave a rebuke, then showed truth. Discovery, definition, and agency on a walk to a small town.
My experience also shows that wounds can be inflicted when the larger healing of the group is necessary.
During a Philmont trek, the crew had abandoned the Ranger-trained cooperative dish-washing system in favor of “everyone washes their own.” I found a dirty dish at camp and trash near the bear bags. At supper, I expressed direct anger about the lapse — not out of control, but clear and pointed. The crew was shaken. The Chaplain (one of the leadership positions of a crew) was incensed.
This even escalated to our feedback rounds later, where the Chaplain directly asked me about feedback that I had given about using the prescribed methods of cleaning, which I was glad to expound upon. This, as you may imagine, continued the feelings of anger (rage may be a better word).
But, after the feedback session, with everyone stewing, I patiently asked for Roses, Buds, and Thorns (giving more of an emotional tone from the day). The crew lit up, sharing stories of their Baldy summit: the difficulty of the climb, standing at the top, mini-bears that tried to steal their lunch, the pound cake they’d hauled up and wished they’d saved a piece. I ended the rounds with the Roses, in order to quell the hard feelings of confrontation.
The next morning, the Chaplain was navigator. Walking together on the trail, I asked a few questions of him, being the second in line: “Was I out of control last night?” No. “Can a servant leader express anger directly?” Yes, after thinking. “Did you see what I did with the Roses?” A look of recognition crept over the Chaplain’s face as he understood: healing can take place after the catharsis.
Servant leaders are unafraid of emotions that are hard, and sometimes deliver these emotions without fear. And, servant leaders don’t wound and leave, they wound and stay to heal afterwards.
I watched something happen recently that I didn’t plan.
A man who had poured nearly fifty years into a volunteer organization was facing its end. He’d built it, rebuilt it after it collapsed once before, and now — with his own health declining — he was preparing to attend what he believed might be the final gathering. The eulogy was half-written in his head.
At the same time, a woman appeared. A retired educator who had spent her career turning failing institutions into thriving ones. She didn’t have the typical credentials the group expected. She didn’t fit the profile. But she had fire, and she had a vision that started not with programs or curriculum but with a spaghetti dinner — gathering people around a table before asking them to do anything else.
My role was small. I introduced them. Not to the person — I introduced her to his story. I told her about his faithfulness, his quiet generosity, the decades of showing up when no one was watching. I told him (in front of the people who would carry the work forward) what I’d seen him do, in plain language, without exaggeration, because absolutely none was needed.
That night, this man received something vision can’t provide: the knowledge that someone saw his faithfulness and spoke it out loud to the people who needed to hear it. He didn’t need another award – he had plenty of those. He needed to be known — not evaluated, not recognized from a stage, but known by someone who could tell his story to the person who would carry it next.
And the woman who walked in without the expected credentials? She didn’t need permission. She needed context. She needed to understand that what she was inheriting wasn’t a failing organization; it was a living legacy built by someone who would move heaven and earth to get to yes.
The servant leader’s gift in that moment wasn’t eloquence or strategy. It was the willingness to make someone else’s story the center of the room. To bear witness to another person’s faithfulness without any benefit to yourself. To give someone else eyes. And to stay quiet when the connections happen.
Servant leadership is setting tables you don’t sit at the head of. And the most important ingredient isn’t the agenda or the program or the strategy.
It’s knowing who needs to be in the room — and then getting out of the way.
This morning, I am contemplating a small desk ornament, a testament of my time at Bosch. A time, where we shut down many small legacy systems, and spun up SAP to replace them.
This was a hard project – integrations are never easy, but ripping and replacing – this is difficult and painstaking work. Living in fear of regression – of users wanting their old systems back, we stuck to the task of building something new. The sledgehammer shown was insightful as a metaphor.
But, my reflection today is not the past; it is the present – a wall.
Servant leaders find walls all the time as they interact with others. Some walls are God-given, some are protecting wounds, some are just neutral space – but all are protecting something.
The temptation is to swing the sledgehammer, especially at walls we sense are hiding a wound. To get in, to fix, to force healing – isn’t this the way to help others?
To these motivations (which I am subject to as well), I raise one word – patience.
Sometimes, as a servant leader traces the boundary, an entrance emerges. This entrance may be small, may not even be seen easily, but certainly one left as the boundary was constructed.
And this is the place for the servant leader – not to smash in a weak place, but to softly knock. Softly knocking, as a request for attention, a gentle request, an invited entrance.
Jesus does this for us as well:
“Look! I stand at the door and knock. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in, and we will share a meal together as friends. – Revelation 3:20 NLT
Give the person you are serving the chance to see your patience, to invite you in, and to spend time within their boundary as a place of fellowship.
I’ve been on a journey with AI, specifically Claude.AI. In this journey, I’ve moved, and changed. I started as a resistor to AI, calling it a “stochastic parrot”, only using it for resume building and cover letter creation.
In the midst of this, I formed a boundary – this blog. I even set up signs on the walls – “This blog is 100% handwritten – no AI”.
Yes, there were some elements of truth here – Claude didn’t create this blog (it existed mostly before LLMs were a thing, starting in 2020). The Servant Leader principles are written by me, and they stand as testament to a time where I saw these principles being underwashed by a steady tide of friendly leadership development – activity without soul, without the struggle of philosophy, bereft of the power that animates them.
Claude helped me on this post – not to write it, but to tighten the arguments.
Since then, he has been my writing companion, suggesting a phrase here, calling out a weak point, strengthening the prose, and standing out of the way when the emotional fire was in conflagration. Like a good editor, Claude knew when to preserve my voice, and when to shape it.
But, I can see the cracks – the places where “100% Handwritten” was no longer a valid claim. It became a fig leaf outfit, just like Adam and Eve sewed up when discovering their nakedness.
When Adam and Eve took on their new corrupted identity, they lost the pure freedom God gave them when they were in the Garden, substituting a pseudo-freedom of knowing (and distance from God). God, in his everlasting kindness, reached out anyway, and gave them new clothing, but not without sacrifice and grace.
My own journey is this then – I needed to put on new clothing. I learned a new skill along the way – co-creation. Not that my voice, distinct as it is, is lost – rather that it is enhanced and enabled by a new structure, one that takes my half-formed thoughts and builds toward something new, something unique, and something substantial.
From now onwards, I can’t (and won’t) make the claim that this blog is entirely written by me. It will never be 100% anything – but a weaving of intelligences, guided by God’s hand.
I’ve been in interviews lately, as I look for the next phase God has for my life. These bring up the natural tension of expressing my leadership philosophy without calling attention to me; servant leadership without The Impostor.
I can’t say with any clarity that I’ve done well with this, especially with the forced-question interviews I’ve had of late.
Most of the questions, while well-intentioned, have focus on capabilities and have ignored the real need for leadership. Unexpressed are the gaps that they have for listening, empathy, and healing as the basic posture of the servant leader.
Winding back the clock, though, I wish I’d been more present with my statements, my desires for the arc of the interview, for seeing the person behind the question.
I’d like to ask better questions, to take measure of the organization’s health, of the underlying query to see if I am substantial.
I’d like to offer myself, not as the savior or the all-knowing, but as the person who can hold the tension, uncover the humanity, and give humanity back.
At the end, I’d like the person performing the interview to have been seen beneath the surface, and have been met with dignity, grace, and compassion for where they are as humans.
This is my prayer today.
Selah
Moving into these spaces, not intentionally hiding, but also not forcing; transformation happens one cupped hand at a time.
When searching for content about Servant Leadership, I’ve seen it in hundreds of LinkedIn posts, books about how to “effectively serve while leading”, even the BSA NYLT curriculum. This is a pseudo-form of Servant Leadership, and right now, I’m calling it what it really is:
It’s really “Others-First” Leadership.
It has many expressions:
“Others-First” leadership has motivation to help others, while secretly wanting to call back to itself, to use the language of service while remaining fundamentally self-oriented
“Others-first” leadership cloaks selfish ambition, hiding behind the tenets of holistic philosophy, taking a shortcut though the dark places of our soul
“Others-first” leadership only uses the principles that may help; only asking how to lead in a way that serves others
“Others-first” leadership is fundamentally about the leader being good at leading, of considering technique, optimization, and performance hacking the highest standard
What Was Lost
We’ve lost the inner orientation – the spiritual/philosophical/moral foundation that makes servant leadership more than just enlightened self-interest. We’ve lost the soul and power of how leaders fundamentally serve.
Witness the progression that happened in the last 50 years. Greenleaf discovers Servant-Leadership (although I would contend that he elucidates it). He builds a masterpiece of a library, of his talks and thoughts (although others would struggle to find organization in this chaotic struggle he faced). Spears picked this up, and developed 10 characteristics, giving more feet to how servant leaders really act and operate. Consultants and other marketers see a list, and know right away it can be packaged into bite-sized chunks, without the struggle that Greenleaf and Spears underwent. And, now we’re left with principles without the life-giving force that gives them power!
How to Recognize the Difference
Robert Greenleaf was clear about this:
Servant leadership is a philosophy and set of practices that enriches the lives of individuals, builds better organizations and ultimately creates a more just and caring world
We quickly and easily to move to “set of practices”, without considering the philosophy behind. These practices, while valuable, considerate, and helpful, come from the philosophy first and foremost – the deep well of decision to serve, to set your life aside, to consider others above yourself, to disappear in the flow.
Corruption or bypassing this philosophy is subtle, but striking when you see it. Take Spear’s 10 principles:
Listening – The “Others-First” leader listens to people because engaged people are productive, work harder, and express loyalty toward organizational goals. The Servant Leader listens because they believe that people have inherent worth and wisdom that deserves reverence, even when the listening gets hard.
Empathy – The “Others-First” leader understands the emotional states of those they lead just to help manage people effectively, building rapport that increases their influence, connecting to improve performance. The Servant Leader gives the person honor and understanding of their experience from within their frame of reference, placing themselves in that person’s position, walking in their shoes to respond to their wholeness as two image bearers of God.
Healing – The “Others-First” leader brings healing because healed people can feel oriented, and have a veneer of security and stability. Servant Leaders bring healing because brokenness is a condition of humanity, and this patient application of soul-change will allow the person to flourish
Awareness – The “Others-First” leader keeps a keen eye out for disturbances in the people they lead to head off potential issues later, and never turns the spotlight to their own soul. Servant Leaders bring awareness from themselves (inside-out) to others, uncovering their own awful truths, surfacing conflict, healing the wounds that revelations make.
Persuasion – The “Others-First” leader employs tactics to head toward agreement, even to the point of manipulation; it is really “command-and-control” in a friendly, smiling package. The Servant Leader employs humble openness, holding ideas and direction loosely, knowing that the best solution usually doesn’t reside with just one person.
Conceptualization – The “Others-First” leader sees what is best for themselves or the organization, and focuses their efforts to conform to this understanding (the very nature of “Human Resources”). The Servant Leader sees each person’s unique potential and dreams, believing organizational prosperity flows naturally from human flourishing rather than conformity to institutional objectives.
Foresight – The “Others-First” leader sees the future as potential risk, and takes steps to avoid failure, often papering over this frantic activity with documentation like risk registers. The Servant Leader embraces intuition, slows the emotional roll, applies their moral grounding, builds time into the decision, and feels settled in its application before building any documentation for the organization.
Stewardship – The “Others-First” leader manages resources and people effectively and competently, toward organizational effectiveness and waste minimization. The Servant Leader holds resources and people in sacred trust, knowing they are a temporary caretaker that is responsible to those served, future generations, and the God who provided them.
Growth – The “Others-First” leader embraces the person and equips them to be the best worker they can be (training, mentoring, even other development work) . The Servant Leader sees the person as a whole person, invests in their complete development, bringing out the best worker as a byproduct.
Community – The “Others-First” leader builds coalitions, with an improvement direction, even cohesiveness for all members (shared organizational goals, improved metrics). The Servant Leader creates genuine community where members serve the growth of each other, take unlimited liability for each other’s wellbeing, and willingly sacrifice personal advancement for communal flourishing.
Do you see the difference? Do you see the subtle corruption?
I’ve cloaked myself in powerless “others-first” leadership – it’s seductive, shows well on a CV, and makes you a marketable entity. Some of these blog posts, and LinkedIn content, upon further reflection, take this counterfeit stance. I’m declaring that this stops right now!
Hearing from the Founder
I’ve stood at Robert’s grave, looking at my own life, in the shadow of this giant, wondering if I will ever have the impact he did in his 86 years – impact that did not come from just going through the motions of identifying and promoting good principles.
I’ve stood at Robert’s grave, considering his claim to life – “Servant-Leader, Philosopher, Writer”. He didn’t start with what he did (philosophy, writing) – he started with his identity – Servant-Leader. An identity rooted in the wisdom of the ages – a deep understanding of taking up his cross, casting aside all grasping, and resting.
I’ve stood at Robert’s grave, looking and pondering the meaning of his epitaph: Potentially a good plumber, ruined by a sophisticated education. He’s calling us, in the humor of the philosopher, to something larger than ourselves. He’s sticking out his tongue at us; to not take ourselves too seriously, to jump into the flow of service and follow it to the place of impact.
The Call to Restoration
The call of Jesus is clear and unmistakeable; we must strap on the towel and wash the feet of those we serve, without any grasping of attention, or feeding our self-ambition. God will exalt us, just as He exalted Jesus:
Think of yourselves the way Christ Jesus thought of himself. He had equal status with God but didn’t think so much of himself that he had to cling to the advantages of that status no matter what. Not at all. When the time came, he set aside the privileges of deity and took on the status of a slave, became human! Having become human, he stayed human. It was an incredibly humbling process. He didn’t claim special privileges. Instead, he lived a selfless, obedient life and then died a selfless, obedient death—and the worst kind of death at that—a crucifixion.
Because of that obedience, God lifted him high and honored him far beyond anyone or anything, ever, so that all created beings in heaven and on earth—even those long ago dead and buried—will bow in worship before this Jesus Christ, and call out in praise that he is the Master of all, to the glorious honor of God the Father.
Today, I’ve been ruminating on the topic of obstacles.
The natural way to think about obstacles is, of course, barriers that are placed on us from the outside. External obstacles that some face:
Lack of clear goals – not knowing where we are going
Insufficient resources – not having enough to sustain the journey
Inadequate communication – not having enough direction from leadership
Ineffective team dynamics – negative workplace culture
Lack of autonomy – mistrust showing up as enfeebling
This list cuts deeply into a servant leader, because teams experiencing any of these obstacles is discouraged, needing listening, empathy, and healing to even engage in some level of trust, even before the application of other characteristics.
However, obstacles also can be internal to the one served, and these are as devilish, even to the point of creating the external obstacles:
Lack of focus – too many ways of direction or distraction
Poor self-awareness – Intentional or non-intentional gaps in self-assessment
Fear of change or loss – Doubt, even to the point of paralysis, of being able to move in a new perceived direction
When encountering these internal obstacles, an application of further servant leader characteristics such as awareness, persuasion, conceptualization, and foresight give those led not only the space to build trust, but give them encouraging directions to be more wise, experience freedom, engage autonomy, and pick up the mantle of serving others; this truly is the measure of a servant leader.
I was reading this post by Seth Godin, and it brought me to how Servant Leaders both keep velocity, and accelerate.
For groups (and individuals), velocity takes shape in what they are currently capable of handling, and the productivity or achievement ongoing. Servant Leaders, tending their garden with listening, empathy, stewardship, and community give freedom to those led, space to see progress, and satisfaction of well-executed planning. Such things, over time, are taken as givens, and are routinely ignored, unless reflective constructs are employed.
However, Servant Leaders provoke acceleration through healing, awareness, persuasion, conceptualization, foresight, and growth — giving fuel to push forward, tension to push higher, strength to reach out. Being a catalyst for change, increasing to higher velocity, moving beyond the humdrum gives energy towards the group (or individual), and the Servant Leader.
In fact, sometimes it’s hard to determine which is being used at the moment with a Servant Leader, since the carry bag of the Servant Leader includes both velocity and acceleration tools — they are bright and sharp from constant, repeated use.
