True leadership is not measured by eloquence or strategy, but by presence, by the willingness to stay when others turn away. From the pulpit to the campus, from hospital rooms to the quiet moments of motherhood, this reflection explores what it means to lead like the Shepherd who never leaves the flock.
The Call to Stay
There are moments in ministry when words fall short, when the air itself feels heavy with sorrow, when prayers sound like groans, and when silence becomes the only honest language left. Early in my years of traditional pastoral ministry, I assumed leadership meant projecting strength, offering clarity, and finding answers. But experience, through pulpit, campus, and hospital, has reshaped that understanding.
I’ve learned that leadership is not proven in how quickly we resolve the pain of others, but in how faithfully we remain beside them. Lament, I’ve discovered, is not a pause in the work of leadership; it is the sacred ground where leadership is formed.
- As a pastor, I learned to speak life into weary hearts.
- As a campus chaplain, I learned to hold space for questions too complex for tidy theology.
- As a hospital chaplain, I learned to listen when language collapses into tears.
- And as a mother, I’ve learned to embody the God who stays, the Parent who runs toward a crying child, not away.
There have been nights when I’ve simply held one of my children as they sobbed, whispering only, “Hush… I’m here.”That holy hush mirrors divine leadership, the kind that meets us in the storm, not to scold or silence us, but to stay until peace returns.
The God Who Leads by Coming Close
From Eden’s garden to the ICU, God’s leadership has always been defined by proximity. In Genesis 3:8, when Adam and Eve hid in shame, God did not lead from a distance, He walked toward them. That was the first pastoral visit: not to preach, but to seek. Ellen G. White wrote,
“In taking our nature, the Saviour has bound Himself to humanity by a tie that is never to be broken.” (The Desire of Ages, p. 25).
Jesus’ life was divine nearness made flesh. Every tear He wiped, every table He shared, every pause He honored became a lesson in leadership, presence before proclamation. C.S. Lewis observed,
“God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pain.” (The Problem of Pain).
Pain, then, becomes not the failure of leadership, but its proving ground. I have heard that holy shout in every setting I’ve served, from pulpits echoing with praise to corridors echoing with cries.
The Shepherd Who Stays
Psalm 23 reminds us that
“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.”
Leadership modeled after the Good Shepherd is not about controlling the flock’s path, but accompanying them through the valley.
- In traditional pastoral ministry, I learned that sermons end but shepherding continues. Presence after benediction is often where true healing begins.
- In campus chaplaincy, I discovered that leadership sometimes looks like listening without correcting, letting students wrestle with faith until it becomes their own.
- In hospital chaplaincy, leadership means standing in sacred tension, between life and death, faith and fear, and trusting that presence itself can be prayer.
David’s psalm reframes leadership: it’s not about avoiding shadows, but walking through them, trusting the Shepherd’s nearness.
When Leaders Lament
Jesus led with tears before He led with triumph. He wept at Lazarus’s tomb before He spoke resurrection. He stayed in Gethsemane before He conquered the grave. He took the middle cross, between two sinners, embodying the courage to stand between heaven and heartbreak. Ellen White wrote, “Christ was treated as we deserve, that we might be treated as He deserves.” His leadership was not distant or detached; it was incarnational love, love that stayed when everything else fled. To lead in this way, as pastor, chaplain, or parent, is to reflect the God who leads by staying close. It’s to understand that tears are not the enemy of leadership but its truest anointing.
The Ministry of Nearness
In every season, I have found that leadership that weeps is leadership that transforms. It teaches teams, congregations, and families that strength and softness are not opposites. It shows that lament, when held with faith, becomes a sanctuary where the Spirit still breathes. Some days, leadership feels like being in that storm-tossed boat with the disciples, waves crashing, fear rising, and no clear horizon in sight. Yet Jesus remains in the boat. His presence doesn’t always end the storm, but it anchors our hearts until peace returns.
Poem: When Shepherds Stay
When words grow thin and wisdom fails,
Stay.
When answers hide behind sighs,
Stay.
Not to fix, but to feel;
Not to preach, but to pray.
For somewhere between the tears and the tomb,
Love lingers
and the Shepherd still walks
through every shadowed valley,
calling us to lead not with power,
but with presence.
And when we stay,
He stays with us.
Reflective Questions
- When have you felt God’s leadership most deeply, in His words or His nearness?
- How might your own leadership change if you led more through presence than performance?
- What does “staying in the storm” look like for you, as pastor, caregiver, or parent?
