Are You a Hunter or a Shepherd Leader?

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown... especially when you realize the crown was never meant to be worn."

Here's what nobody admits about being "the one at the top":

You can't be human:

• Can't show weakness

• Can't admit uncertainty

• Can't have bad days

• Can't ask for help

• Can't be yourself

You can't have real relationships:

• Everyone wants something

• Every conversation has agenda

• Trust becomes transactional

• Loneliness becomes normal

• Isolation becomes safety

You can't stop performing:

• Always "on"

• Always deciding

• Always responsible

• Always alone

• Always pretending

Kevin and I were deep in conversation about this when a picture emerged that stopped us cold. Picture two types of leaders:

The Opportunist stands on the hill, eyes scanning. Always looking for threats to eliminate, opportunities to capture, resources to claim. Eyes focused on "opportunities and advantages." What's next, what's more, what's out there?

The Shepherd stands among the flock. Eyes turned inward on the fold. Watching holistically, emotionally, practically – are they engaged? Are they drama-free? Are they hitting targets? But also: How is their spiritual formation? Are their bills being paid? How are their marriages?

To the former, people are a means to the end. To the latter, the people are the end. When someone's living as an opportunist, always looking for external threats and resources, they miss what's happening with their people. But when they look inward at the fold, they see who's struggling, who needs support, what's really happening, where the pain really lies.

There's something Jesus said that should have revolutionized leadership forever: "You want to be first, be last. You want to be the leader, be the servant of all."

"Heavy is the head that wears the crown."

When we’re opportunists, everything becomes more challenging the higher we climb. We have fewer people to talk to about what’s going on. We become more isolated. Not because leadership requires isolation, but because we’ve created that world.

We can become so afraid of appearing weak that we create the very isolation we fear. We're so afraid of losing control that we create chaos. We're so afraid of being human that we become machines.

This story that perfectly illustrates this: A mother who grew up in a broken family wanted nothing more than to create a perfect family. But that desire was fear-driven – she never wanted to experience dysfunction again.

So her fear controlled the rest of her decision making. And what ended up happening? She created the same situation she was raised in because of the fear. Her eyes were solely focused on the fear, and it controlled everything.

The ego loves to have the answers.

If you want to shepherd people, you must be willing to let go of being the “answer” person. The world has grown sick of the “answer” people. They’ve become sick of pretending to be one, as well—in communities, in churches.

What if we instead, commit to walking with each other through whatever comes as a community? Because that's the pledge that the community makes to each other.

Perhaps we need language for these types of sherpas:

The Armchair Sherpa: Standing on the peak, looking down into the valley, saying "Don't go there. You don't want to go there." They're experts on the valley, but they've never actually been in it. You can tell because of the language they use – it's all avoidance language.

The True Sherpa: "Keep walking. I'm with you." They're not trying to sell you anything. They've been there. They have dirt under their fingernails. They're not offering five-step methods to avoid the valley. They're offering to walk through it with you.

A pastor once asked me, “How are you doing?” I shared with him, “I feel like God’s dismantling everything that I’ve built on my own so that he can rebuild. It’s been hard, but it’s been good.” He looked me in the eye and told me with gut-wrenching honestly, “I’m not ready to go there.”

It was an honest admission.

How would businesses, churches, cities, and communities change if we as leaders would promote capable servant leaders into the number one position?

Don’t all issues around retention and growth ultimately center around culture? And doesn’t cultural health grow under the care of leaders who are shepherds, not opportunists?

What if we change the definition of leadership?

• What if leadership isn't about having the answers?

• What if it's about something else entirely?

• What if it's about walking with people through whatever comes?

• What if it's about admitting, "I don't know why you're here either, but let's find out"?

Here's what we keep coming back to: Real leadership requires integration of head, heart, and gut. It requires what we might call a "triune conversation" – where all parts of you are engaged and aligned.

But most of us operate from just one part. We lead from our heads with logic and strategy. Or from our emotions with charisma and feeling. Or from our gut with instinct and drive.

True servant leadership requires all three working together, in service of others.

Here’s the invitation for you and I.

"The first shall be last" isn't a nice metaphor. It's how transformation is made.

When you stop trying to be first, you become the leader that lets people become who they were meant to be.

When you admit you've been in the valley too, people trust you to guide them through theirs.

Take one conversation…
Take one meeting…
Take one moment of leadership…

For one moment, stop pretending you have all the answers. Start walking with your people through their valleys. You’re not obligated to have the answers. You’re free to simply say, "I don't know, but let's figure it out together."

P.S. This email was inspired by a conversation with Kevin David Kridner, a spiritual director. This is as much his work as mine.