When Leadership Means Showing Up Without a Script
A Quiet Night, A Gentle Drizzle
It wasn’t a heavy rain that evening. Just a drizzle. Barely enough to wet the ground, but enough to change the air. I had just wrapped up a session with Dr. Elias, and instead of heading straight up, I chose to walk a little. Not because I needed to stretch. But because I needed to breathe.
The day had been full. Devotion in the morning. Back-to-back meetings. Then that coaching conversation that clarified more than I expected. Nothing dramatic happened. No emotional breakdowns or inspiring mountaintop moments. But it was one of those days that stirs something quiet in you. The kind of stirring that lingers.
When Even Miracles Aren’t Enough
Our morning devotion had taken us into the book of Exodus. We talked about Moses, not just as a biblical hero, but as a leader. A man who spent eighty years in preparation before his calling even began.
He had everything you’d expect a good leader to have: a divine calling, clear direction, organizational structure, charisma, experience, strategy. And yet, the people resisted.
They saw miracles with their own eyes. Water turned to blood. The Red Sea parted. Manna fell from heaven. Still, they doubted. Still, they grumbled. Still, they built golden calves and forgot the very God who freed them.
It wasn’t a lack of clarity that delayed their journey. It was emotional depletion. They were simply too tired to believe.
That’s the part that struck me the most. Emotional fatigue, not poor leadership, can turn a two-week journey into a forty-year detour.
Moses wasn’t just leading a people. He was holding the weight of their fragility. Their restlessness. Their inability to keep going even when everything was laid out for them. I don’t think most leadership books prepare us for that.
Leadership Without Titles: A Midwife’s Quiet Defiance
What made the reflection more compelling was the story of Shiphrah and Puah, the Hebrew midwives. They weren’t warriors. They didn’t lead armies or sit in strategy meetings. But they quietly said no when Pharaoh gave them an unthinkable command: kill the baby boys.
They didn’t shout. They didn’t rebel publicly. But they didn’t obey either. Because they feared God more than they feared Pharaoh.
And that decision changed everything. Moses lived. And with him, the future of a nation.
It reminded me that leadership often shows up in the quiet places. The unrecorded decisions. The moments where no one is watching, but everything still matters. Impact doesn’t always come with applause. Sometimes it comes with quiet conviction in unseen rooms.
What Emotions Are Really Made Of
Later that day, we sat with our team for our regular leadership reading session. The topic: emotional energy and its role in organizational behavior. It’s easy to skim articles like that. They tend to sound repetitive. But this one held a mirror.
The core idea was this: emotions aren’t just feelings. They’re finite resources. And when they’re gone, people don’t rebel. They shut down.
Recognition doesn’t restore people like it used to. A plaque, a bonus, a shout-out. It may lift morale for a moment, but the deeper emotional depletion stays. Especially if their family can’t understand the win. Especially if the workplace feels like an island and the home offers no bridge.
We used to live and work in the same ecosystem. In the 80s, your neighbors worked with you. Your family knew your colleagues. Your victory at work brought pride to your home.
But now? We live in isolated apartments. We text more than we talk. We succeed, but there’s no one who fully understands why it matters. And slowly, the meaning erodes.
A Lunch I Didn’t Know I Needed
That afternoon, I took my wife out for lunch. Nothing fancy. She needed to go to the bank, and I offered to accompany her. I thought maybe we could take a pause. Just spend a moment together.
But as we sat there, I noticed something I wasn’t proud of. I didn’t know how to start a meaningful conversation. Not because I didn’t love her. Not because there was conflict. But because I was afraid.
Afraid of triggering something I couldn’t manage emotionally. Afraid of saying the wrong thing. Afraid that even kindness might be misinterpreted.
So I smiled. Stayed quiet. Ate. Paid. And left.
That silence wasn’t indifference. It was self-protection.
And even that, I’m learning, is part of the leadership journey. Choosing presence when you don’t have the words. Choosing caution, not because you’ve given up, but because you’re trying not to make it worse. We don’t always lead with answers. Sometimes we lead with restraint. And that day, restraint felt like the most honest thing I had to offer.
Rebuilding the Loops Between Work and Life
This emotional loop between work and home has been breaking for years. And it shows. People get promoted but feel lonelier. They win awards but wonder why no one seems to care. They pour out, lead meetings, solve fires. But no one sees the cost.
So as a team, we’re starting to rebuild that loop intentionally.
We’re making a few simple shifts that matter deeply.
- First, Family-Aware Recognition. If someone wins something, we’re finding ways to involve their spouse. Not just with words, but with tangible support. Maybe flying them out, or giving space to celebrate together.
- Next, we’re anchoring Stellar 101 and One-to-Ones not just in orientation or performance reviews, but in real conversations and pauses.
- We’re building Emotional Safe Zones: spaces that don’t demand participation. Some people need silence. Some need decompression. Some need less input, not more.
- We’re also celebrating Personal Milestones. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Even small things. Because those are emotional anchors. You can’t run fast if you don’t know what’s holding you steady.
- Finally, we’re Noticing the Quiet Ones. The protectors. The fixers. The ones who hold the team emotionally but never ask for help. They burn out first. And they rarely tell you.
This isn’t about making work softer. It’s about making people stronger by making them feel safe enough to stay.
Life Doesn’t Pause for Strategy
At the same time, we’re preparing to welcome our daughter, Arielle. Every night, I sleep with that awareness. She could arrive anytime. I’ve packed the bags. Made the checklist. But honestly? There’s no real way to be ready.
And that’s where the leadership paradox hits hardest. You build systems. Create plans. Craft strategy. But life moves by different rhythms. Babies. Burnout. Silence at lunch. None of them care about your timeline.
So I’m learning to hold both. To be a CEO and a dad. To run meetings and sit in silence. To love my wife even when I don’t know what to say.
This is the leadership no one applauds. The leadership you don’t post on LinkedIn. The kind that builds legacy quietly.
The 10 Paradoxes I Keep Returning To
These aren’t just catchy phrases. These are hard-earned truths. Biblical. Personal. Tested.
- Strength through surrender – 2 Corinthians 12:9
- Influence through service – Mark 10:43
- Victory through sacrifice – Matthew 20:28
- Wisdom through listening – James 1:19
- Authority through humility – James 4:10
- Peace through truth – Ephesians 4:15
- Leadership through followership – Matthew 4:19
- Growth through pruning – John 15:2
- Clarity through the cloud – Exodus 13:21
- Impact through obscurity – Philippians 2:7
I don’t try to balance these. I carry them. They are the tension I live in.
The Reverse That Redefines It All
Leadership isn’t always about speaking up. Sometimes it’s about knowing when to be quiet.
Not the kind of silence that avoids. The kind that respects. That holds space. That waits.
So no, the opposite of leadership isn’t failure. The opposite of leadership is emotional abandonment.
It’s the slow detachment when presence becomes mechanical and love goes unspoken. That’s what I fear most. Not mistakes. Not breakdowns. But forgetting to show up when it matters most.
So I’m choosing presence. Even when it’s quiet. Even when it’s cautious. Even when I don’t have the words yet.
That’s the kind of leadership I want to build into Stellar. Into my family. Into my life. One slow, emotionally honest moment at a time.
