The True Cost of Leadership

By a servant shaped by scars, anchored in faith, and called to legacy

The Illusion of Leadership: Power vs. Purpose

When we’re young, leadership seems like a spotlight—an elevated seat at the table where others lean in, eager for our words. We dream of it as a crown: polished, weighty, a symbol of power. We imagine that to lead means to arrive—no more late nights grinding out the work, no more answering to someone else’s deadlines. The corner office, the influence, the accolades—they all seem to shimmer like a reward for making it.

But real leadership, the kind that leaves a legacy, tells a different story.

It’s not built in boardrooms or shaped over coffee. It’s forged in the quiet trenches of sacrifice. It’s the long talks with team members after everyone else has gone home. It’s the wounds you carry that aren’t your own—and the courage to carry them anyway.

Leadership isn’t about the title. It’s about the towel.

In John 13, we find Jesus—the one to whom all power belongs—stooping to wash the feet of His disciples. No spotlight. No throne. Just a basin, a towel, and a heart fully surrendered to serve. “Now that I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also should wash one another’s feet” (John 13:14). That’s the kind of leadership heaven honors.

See, bosses issue commands. Leaders carry burdens. They don’t operate with a hierarchy of importance, but with a humility that sees every person as a coworker, a fellow image-bearer of God. And while a boss may build structure, a leader builds trust.

Trust, after all, is the currency of influence.

In every organization, I look not to the org chart but to the people whose presence others gravitate toward. These aren’t always the ones with the titles or the flashiest resumes. They’re the ones who listen before they speak. Who shoulders extra weight when others are faltering? Who shows up early, stays late, and does the right thing—especially when no one’s watching?

These, I believe, are what Jim Collins would call Level 5 Leaders—“infected with an incurable need to produce sustained results.” They are driven, yes. But not by ego. Purpose propels them. Anchored by a deep resolve to do what is right, not just what is required. It reminds me of the wisdom of Proverbs 11:3: “The integrity of the upright guides them, but the unfaithful are destroyed by their duplicity.”

Leadership costs you something. And it should.

And let me say this—real leaders have scars. Not the kind earned from battle for position, but the wounds gained from loving people deeply. From believing in someone others had written off. From standing in the gap when things got messy and murky, and no one wanted to step in. They hurt for their teams. They mourn with those who mourn. They labor in the unseen.

It’s the kind of leadership Jesus spoke of in Mark 10:42–45, when He turned worldly definitions of greatness upside down. His disciples were jockeying for position, seeking places of honor, but Jesus called them together and said:

“You know that those who are regarded as rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them... Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

This is not leadership as domination. It is leadership as surrender. Not lording over, but lifting up. Not clinging to status, but stooping low in service. It is a radical redefinition—where greatness is found not at the top, but at the feet of others. The true measure of a leader is not how many follow them, but how faithfully they serve.

The Deeper Call

To be “slave of all” is to be emptied of self so others might be filled with Christ. And in the economy of heaven, that kind of servant-hearted sacrifice is what true greatness looks like.

And here’s the deeper truth: leaders are not to sit and wait for people to come to them. If God has placed you in leadership, He has also entrusted you with the spiritual sensitivity to see what others do not see. The confusion behind the smile. The heaviness behind the handshake. The despair behind the “I’m fine.” Servant leaders keep their eyes wide open—on the lookout for the broken, the burdened, and the barely-holding-on. And when they see it, they don’t shrink back. They step into the gap. They intercede. They pursue. They take initiative. Because true leadership isn’t passive—it’s perceptive and proactive.

This kind of leadership demands sacrifice. It asks us to lay down our own agendas, to surrender our carefully guarded time, and to make our lives radically available to those we lead. And this isn’t just a word for believers in the pews—it’s a wake-up call to those in the pulpit. To pastors, ministry staff, and spiritual leaders: the call to serve isn’t fulfilled in the spotlight, but in the surrendered moments when no one sees. It means giving up personal comfort for someone else’s healing. It means rearranging schedules, returning phone calls late at night, praying with someone after the service long after the crowd has gone home. It means being interrupted—and welcoming it.

Jesus’ words in Mark 10:44—“and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all”—strike at the very core of what it means to lead in the Kingdom of God. In a culture that prizes recognition, convenience, and personal advancement, Jesus calls His followers to a different standard: voluntary servitude. Not the kind forced upon us, but the kind we choose—daily, humbly, and joyfully—for the sake of others.

Because anything worth building—anything that will outlast you—demands a price.

And here’s the truth most don’t say out loud: sometimes, the ones you invest in will leave. The people you’ve prayed for, coached, poured into—they’ll grow wings and fly elsewhere. And that’s okay. In fact, that’s the goal. Our calling isn’t to keep people under us. It’s to raise people up.

It’s the echo of 2 Timothy 2:2—“And the things you have heard me say in the presence of many witnesses entrust to reliable people who will also be qualified to teach others.”

So, when you identify those future leaders in your organization, don’t hoard their gifts. Sharpen them. Stretch them. Walk beside them. Let them fail and help them rise again. And when they’re ready to go—bless them. Cheer them on.

Because legacy is never measured by who stays under your leadership, but by who carries it forward.

Leadership That Lasts: Stewardship Over Status

In the end, leadership is not about position—it’s about presence. Not about success—but stewardship. Not about climbing—but cultivating.

And if your heart aches from the cost, take comfort. The greatest Leader of all bore the ultimate price so that others could live. He, too, was misunderstood, rejected, and wounded for others’ sake. And yet, “for the joy set before Him, He endured the cross…” (Hebrews 12:2).

So, lead with legacy in mind. Lead with eternity in view.

And remember: when the applause fades and the lights go out, it’s the servant-hearted leader who leaves the most lasting impact.

Dr. Wendell K. Murray is a seasoned educational leader, ordained minister, and leadership coach with over 30 years of experience guiding schools, ministries, and organizations through transformative growth and development. His writings focus on faith, calling, and legacy—encouraging leaders to walk with wisdom, courage, and conviction.