Servant Leadership

Servant Leadership: The Ripples of Service

INTRODUCTION

I remember when I first encountered the concept of servant leadership. Like many terms we hear in management circles, I initially wondered if this was just another buzzword passing through the corporate landscape. But as I’ve reflected on it over the years, I’ve come to see that it touches something much deeper in our human experience – something that perhaps has always been there, waiting for us to recognize it.

Many of us have spent decades in leadership positions—navigating the currents of business, community organizations, and our families. We’ve seen management theories rise and fall like tides. We’ve weathered economic storms. We’ve adapted to technological transformations that changed how we connect and create.

But today, I’d like us to consider something that isn’t merely a trend or a temporary fashion. It’s a timeless approach to leadership that operates in that liminal space between authority and humility. It’s called “Servant Leadership.”

The question I invite us to sit with today is this: Aren’t all true leaders actually servants?

Think about the leaders who have most influenced your journey. Were they the ones who demanded respect through position and authority? Or were they those rare individuals who, like dolphins moving through water, found their path within the current rather than fighting against it? Those who earned your respect not through title but through how they empowered others and advanced something greater than themselves?

THE SPACE BETWEEN LEADING AND SERVING

The term “Servant Leadership” was coined by Robert Greenleaf in 1970, though the concept has existed for thousands of years across many spiritual traditions and cultures. It occupies that fascinating threshold between conventional leadership and something more profound.

Greenleaf was inspired by Hermann Hesse’s novel “Journey to the East,” where the central character is a servant who disappears from a group of travelers. Without him, the group falls into disarray, and they eventually discover he was actually the head of the great order that sponsored their journey.

The insight is simple yet transformative: true leadership begins with the desire to serve others, not with the desire to lead or gain power. Like the mystics who found God not despite suffering but through it, true leaders find their authority not despite service but through it.

RECOGNIZING THE SERVANT IN OURSELVES

I suspect every one of us has practiced servant leadership at some point in our lives, perhaps without having language for it.

Consider Molly (and I’m borrowing from a story I often share). She sits at her kitchen table early one morning, the weight of yesterday’s harsh words with her daughter feeling like a stone in her heart. Her leadership in that moment isn’t about asserting authority, but about finding a path toward healing and connection. The harmony she seeks isn’t about erasing feelings but about weaving them into the bigger tapestry of their relationship.

Many of us who are parents and supporters of children, have lived this paradox. We’ve put our children’s needs ahead of our own. We’ve surrendered sleep, comfort, money and sometimes our own ambitions to create spaces where they could flourish. We’ve held both our sadness and our hope in a delicate balance.

In our careers, the best among us mentored younger colleagues without seeking recognition. We shared knowledge instead of hoarding it for advantage. When things went wrong, we stepped forward. When things went right, we stepped back.

Let me ask you: When in your life have you felt most fulfilled as a leader? Was it when you received accolades, or was it when you witnessed others succeed because of the space you helped create for them? When you saw the ripples of your small acts of service moving outward in ways you could never have anticipated?

THE MIND, HEART, AND WILL OF SERVICE

One of the hardest lessons of leadership—one that I’m still learning myself—is managing what Theory U (developed by Otto Scharmer at MIT) would call the three gates: the open mind, the open heart, and the open will.

If I’m being honest, there have been times in my career when I’ve listened with my ears but not with my heart, when I’ve observed situations through the lens of judgment rather than empathy, when I’ve acted from past patterns rather than present possibilities.

For those of my (older) generation especially, we were often taught that leadership meant having all the answers, being visible, making unilateral decisions. Servant leadership invites us into a different space – what spiritual traditions might call a liminal space – where we’re not sure what happens next, where we don’t appear to have control over next steps and direction.

As Lao Tzu said: “The best leader is the one when the job is done, the people say ‘we did it ourselves.'”

That’s both a humbling and a liberating standard, isn’t it?

THE PARADOX OF PRESENCE

Here’s the paradox we need to wrestle with: True leadership often means becoming less visible while becoming more present. Your greatest impact may come when your title and authority fade into the background.

In Theory U, Scharmer describes this as “presencing” – connecting to the deepest source of yourself and acting from the emerging whole rather than from isolated parts. The question becomes: What mission in your life matters enough that you’d be willing to step out of the spotlight? What cause is important enough that you’d let go of credit and control?

KEY PRINCIPLES OF SERVANT LEADERSHIP

Let me share some key principles that define servant leadership in practice. You might notice how they resemble the steps in both spiritual journeys and organizational transformation:

Holding Space – Creating environments where people can speak truth without fear. Where mistakes are viewed as learning opportunities. Where questions and challenges are welcomed. This isn’t passive listening but active creation of safety.

Observing – Suspending judgment and seeing with fresh eyes. How many problems in our organizations could have been avoided if leaders had just looked with an open mind rather than through the filters of past experience?

Sensing – Connecting with empathy and seeing things as interconnected wholes. In our careers, we’ve all worked with difficult people, but the best leaders find ways to connect with and bring out the best in everyone by seeing the whole person, not just their behavior in isolated moments.

Presencing – Being fully present and connected to purpose. This gets easier with age, doesn’t it? We’ve had enough failures to know we’re not infallible, enough successes to know what matters.

Crystallizing – Clarifying vision and intention. This is about balancing the urgent with the important, the immediate with the eternal.

Prototyping – Learning by doing, avoiding paralysis by analysis. Servant leadership means having the courage to act imperfectly rather than waiting for perfect conditions.

Performing – Bringing it all together in service of the greater whole. How many of us have experienced toxic work environments? Servant leadership is the antidote.

CREATING CULTURES WHERE PEOPLE THRIVE

In my experience, the most successful organizations are those where people thrive, not just survive. They’re like the dolphins describes – moving with grace in their environment and behavior toward each other.

Think about the difference:

In a survival environment, people operate from fear. They compete for recognition. They hoard information. They play politics. They do the minimum necessary.

In a thriving environment, people operate from trust. They collaborate. They share information freely. They take the initiative without being asked. They go above and beyond because they want to, not because they have to.

As someone who has spent decades in management, I’ve seen both types of organizations. I suspect we’ve all contributed to both types at different points in our careers.

The question is: Which kind of environment did we create? Did people leave our teams better than they arrived? Did they grow in capabilities and confidence under our leadership? Were our organizations more like the barista who carried a moment of grace home to her son, or more like the traffic that hums beyond the window, unaware of the life happening within?

A thriving culture built on servant leadership principles includes:

Psychological Safety – Creating spaces where truth can be spoken without fear.

Justice and Fairness – With transparent decision-making and consistent accountability at all levels.

Non-Judgmental Acceptance – Valuing people for who they are, not just what they produce.

Nurturing Growth – Aligning development with individual strengths and purpose.

And yes, Love – Not a word we’ve often used in business vocabulary, but perhaps should have. Genuine care for the whole person, not just their productive capacity.

VULNERABILITY AND SURRENDER

Now, I know that words like “vulnerability” and “surrender” might make some of us uncomfortable. They certainly weren’t part of the leadership vocabulary when many of us started our careers. But then again, neither were words like “agile” or “disruption.”

But I’ve learned that vulnerability—acknowledging limits, admitting mistakes, expressing uncertainty—isn’t weakness. It’s actually strength. It builds trust. It creates space for others to be authentic too. Like the mystics who knew that emptiness teems with possibility, leaders who embrace vulnerability create space for new ideas and approaches to emerge.

And surrender doesn’t mean giving up. It means letting go of rigid control. It means trusting others enough to carry the mission forward, perhaps in ways different than we would. In Theory U terms, it’s about “letting go and letting come.”

I’ll be the first to admit that these are still challenging for me.

PRACTICAL APPLICATION

So where do we go from here? Let me suggest a few practices that might help us move towards servant leadership:

Begin each day with intention – Not a to-do list, but a being list. Who do you want to be today as a leader? How might you serve the mission, not personal ambition?

Practice redirecting attention – Make it a habit to highlight what others are doing well. Be the mirror that reflects their light back to them.

Create regular reflection time – Ask yourself honestly whose needs you’re serving in your decisions. Are you listening to what life is calling you to do?

Find companions for the journey – At our stage of life, we need people who will speak truth to us with love. Who will help us see our blind spots.

Celebrate the ripples – Notice and honor the moments when your small acts of service create changes you never anticipated. When the work continues without your involvement. This is the ultimate success of a servant leader.

CONCLUSION

As we enter what some might call the contemplative stage of our lives, many of us find ourselves thinking about legacy. What will we leave behind? How will we be remembered?

The servant leadership approach suggests that our greatest achievement may be in the ripples we never see – the lives touched by those we’ve served, the changes that began with our small acts of kindness and attention.

As Robert Greenleaf put it: “The true test of a servant-leader is this: Do those served grow as persons? Do they, while being served, become healthier, wiser, freer, more autonomous, more likely themselves to become servants?”

That’s a standard worth aspiring to, isn’t it? Even if, like the mystics seeking union with the divine, we never fully reach it in this lifetime.

Look closely at your hands. Really look at them. These are the instruments of your leadership, the tools of your service. Divine love wearing human skin, though we forget this most days, caught up in quarterly reports and strategic plans.

What ripples might you create today? What spaces might you hold open? What growth might you nurture?

Thank you for your presence and attention.

LET ME BE YOUR SERVER TODAY

Each step is an active part of my love.

Moving towards the table needing clearing,

Responding to an empty cup,

Smiling to a face far from home.


Reponses vary,

According to mood and pressure.

Sometimes I am invisible,

No one sees me,

Only what I deliver,

And if it’s on time.

However, there is always one,

One who sees me and what I do,

For what it really is,

Loving and giving,

Supporting and consistent.

There when others need me,

No asking for gifts or rewards from them.

Just a smile and greeting,

To show they love me.

Just as I love them.

Copyright Reflection, Poem and Image 2025 Michael J. Cunningham

A Liminal Space

Thinking in a Liminal Space

I remember when I first heard the words liminal space. The first thing I had to do was to look up what that actually meant. Here is the Merriam webster’s definition.

occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold.

“I was in the liminal space between past and present”

relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process.

“that liminal period when a child is old enough to begin following basic rules but is still too young to do so consistently”


In the theological and spiritual world we often describe the liminal space as this place of uncertainty, place which might be holding place, a place of transition, decision point, and frequently a place of concern and worry.

Somewhere where we’re not sure what should happen next. Not often when we don’t have any control or don’t appear to have any control of next steps and direction.

Holy Saturday can be considered one of the most profound liminal spaces in our Christian tradition. If we place ourselves in the moment of holy Saturday, at the time of the passion of Jesus Christ, we don’t know what’s going to happen next. Was he a prophet with authority? Was he the Messiah? Is it all over now? What comes next? He was persecuted and I was a follower, am I next on the persecution list? These might be some of the thoughts going through the minds of Christ’s followers in the space just after his crucifixion.

Because we know the outcome it might be difficult for us to consider this liminal space for those that were around at the time. They were suspended between death and resurrection, between despair and hope, the old way and what was to come.

While holy Saturday is a good reference point for us to illustrate a liminal space in the Christian tradition. We have all probably entered liminal moments in our lives, the circumstances being different to Holy Saturday but the feelings and the effect being similar, or at least something we can relate.

In this threshold space, thoughts become fragmented and uncertain. The mind struggles to make meaning when the narrative has been violently interrupted. Consider how the disciples might have experienced this day:

The weight of absence: “He left us.” After following Jesus for years, building their identity around his presence, his absence creates a void that can’t be filled. The teacher, friend, and leader is gone, leaving only questions.

Faith under pressure: “Was He the messiah or just another prophet?” Everything they believed is now tested. Without the resurrection to validate their faith, doubt seeps into every memory and teaching.

Fear becoming tangible: “He was crucified. Will I be?” The threat of sharing Jesus’ fate would have been real. His followers might wonder if they too would be branded as “blasphemers” facing “retribution.”

Cognitive dissonance: “What should I think? What should I believe?” The mind struggles to reconcile what was promised with the reality of the cross. The frameworks for understanding have collapsed.

This liminal space forces a confrontation with our deepest attachments and beliefs. All the disciples and followers have only “word of mouth news reports” – rumors, confusion, contradicting accounts. Without certainty, without “videos” or proof, one is left with the raw experience of loss.

Yet something remains in this emptiness: “Creation, love, care, witness.” The world continues to exist. Relationships endure. The capacity to care remains when all else seems lost. This liminal space invites us to “reflect, discern, renew, trust, believe” – not because certainty has returned, but because waiting in uncertainty is a spiritual practice.

Holy Saturday teaches us that liminal spaces, while disorienting, can be fertile ground. When we step “into the unknown” without guarantees, we discover what remains when certainty is stripped away. This is where fertile ground awaits us: if we dare enter this territory.

Copyright Image and Reflection Michael J. Cunningham 2025

No Matter What

No Matter What

Have you ever thought about what “no matter what” really means? We say it often – to our children, to our loved ones, sometimes even to ourselves. But do we truly grasp the depth of that promise? It’s easy to love when the sun is shining, when life flows smoothly like a gentle stream. But unconditional love asks for more.

This kind of love doesn’t pause to check the weather. It doesn’t measure the temperature of the room before entering. It simply is. Present. Constant. Unwavering. Like the sacred space within us that holds the divine, this love creates a sanctuary that remains intact through every storm.

Most times, we struggle with this concept because we’ve learned to put conditions on everything. If you do this, then I’ll do that. If you meet these expectations, then you’ll receive this reward. But real unconditional love throws away the rulebook. It doesn’t keep score or maintain an internal ledger of rights and wrongs.

Consider, for a moment, how God’s love operates. It doesn’t diminish as we stumble. It doesn’t withdraw when we question. It doesn’t fade when we forget to look up and acknowledge God’s presence. Like the air we breathe, it simply continues to sustain us, asking nothing in return except that we allow ourselves to receive it. And, it takes some effort to avoid breathing!

This is the kind of love that Francis of Assisi embodied when he embraced the leper, when he spoke to the wolf of Gubbio, when he called the sun his brother and the moon his sister. He understood that love transcends our human categories and conditions. It flows freely, like living water, nourishing everything it touches.

Perhaps the greatest challenge isn’t in giving this kind of love – though that’s certainly difficult enough – but in accepting it. In believing that we are worthy of being loved “no matter what.” In trusting that the love will remain even when we can’t see it through our tears or feel it through our pain.

Take a moment to reflect: When was the last time you allowed yourself to be loved unconditionally? Without trying to earn it, deserve it, or repay it? This is the gift we’re all offered, waiting to be unwrapped every single day.

Copyright Image and Reflection Michael J. Cunningham 2024

The Heart’s Wisdom

The Heart’s Wisdom in Difficult Moments

In the Christian contemplative tradition, a sacred space exists between reaction and response—a moment where wisdom emerges in the pause between our thoughts. This pause becomes our sanctuary of discernment when faced with persecution or intimidation.

The Dance of Grace and Truth

As spiritualbreak.com reminds us, harmony often emerges in the space between our breaths. This truth becomes especially vital when navigating challenging encounters. The key lies not in choosing between kindness and firmness, but in allowing both to flow from a heart aligned with Christ’s teachings.

The Power of Heart-Centered Response

Recent scientific discoveries have shown that the heart is more powerful than previously thought, but those of us walking in faith have always known this truth. When we respond from a heart centered in Christ’s love, we naturally find the balance between gentle strength and unwavering truth.

Consider these heart-centered approaches:

  1. Pause and Reflect
    Before responding to hostility, create that sacred space where wisdom dwells. Let your response emerge from a place of centered peace rather than reactive fear.
  2. Speak Truth with Open Hearts
    As we learn from spiritual wisdom, an opening of hearts is the only way to open a mind. When we speak truth from this place, we maintain our integrity and compassion.
  3. Leave a Positive Trace
    Every interaction leaves what we might call a spiritual trace—something that remains after our encounter with another. Choose to leave behind evidence of Christ’s love, even in difficult moments.

Living the Balance

The path of Christ-like response requires neither passive acceptance nor aggressive defense. Instead, it calls us to stand firmly in truth while remaining rooted in love. This might mean:

  • Setting clear boundaries with gentle determination
  • Speaking truth without attacking
  • Maintaining dignity without pride
  • Showing compassion without compromising principles

A Moment of Prayer

Divine Master, grant us the wisdom to recognize the space between stimulus and response as holy ground. Help us stand firm in Your truth while radiating Your love. May our responses to difficulty reflect Your perfect balance of grace and truth. Amen.

Remember: Our strength lies not in our ability to overpower others, but in our capacity to remain anchored in Christ’s love while standing firm in His truth. This is the way of transformative response—one that changes ourselves and, potentially, those who oppose us.

Finding Inner Harmony: Lessons from mystics and Dolphins

Harmony: An instrument of Change

In the gentle whispers of dawn, when the world seems most at peace, we often find ourselves searching for that elusive sense of harmony that seems to be just beyond our grasp. The dolphins, magnificent creatures of God’s creation, show us daily what it means to live in perfect accord with their environment and each other. They seem to emulate grace in their movement and behavior towards each other. A grace that speaks to us of a more profound truth. Once that, mystics have sought to capture in words and prayer throughout the ages.

St. Francis of Assisi, in his Canticle of the Sun, spoke of harmony with all creation – Brother Sun, Sister Moon, and even Sister Death. He understood that harmony wasn’t just about peaceful coexistence but also recognizing the divine thread connecting all living things. This Franciscan vision of universal kinship calls us to see harmony not as an end goal but as a way of being in the world.

Consider Molly, sitting at her kitchen table early one morning, tears falling silently onto a recently placed plate. The weight of yesterday’s harsh words with her daughter feels like a stone in her heart. If she was present, the mystic Julian of Norwich might tell her, “All shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well.” But how does Sarah find her way to that place of harmony?

Perhaps the answer lies in how dolphins move through the water – not fighting the current, but finding their path within it. The 13th-century Angela of Foligno would understand Sarah’s pain. She spoke of finding God not despite our suffering but through it. The harmony we seek isn’t about erasing our feelings but about weaving them into a bigger tapestry. The tapestry of our lives.

In the Christian contemplative tradition, harmony often emerges in the space between our breaths, in the pause between our thoughts. The Desert Fathers and Mothers knew this well. They sought not to escape the world’s discord, but to find the underlying harmony beneath it all. Meister Eckhart preached that this harmony already exists within us – we need only to clear away what is blocking us from experiencing it.

For Molly, harmony might begin with acknowledging the love which is the underbelly, that underlying her pain. The very depth of her hurt speaks to the intensity of her connection with her daughter. Like the dolphins who never truly sleep but rest one hemisphere of their brain at a time, she can hold both her sadness and her hope in a delicate balance.

St. Clare of Assisi, who understood the power of contemplative harmony, might guide Sarah to her mirror – not the physical one on her wall, but the mirror of Christ’s love in her heart. There, she might see that harmony doesn’t require perfect conditions. It requires only our willingness to remain open to grace, even in our brokenness; particularly when we feel broken.

As the morning light grows stronger, Molly finds that harmony isn’t about returning to yesterday’s peace. It’s about finding today’s rhythm, even if it comes with tears. The dolphins know this – each day brings its own song, its own dance, its own way of moving through the waters.

Molly’s Dawn

The morning coffee grows cold

And memories of yesterday’s storm

Ripple across the surface of the lake which is her mind.

She watches sparrows outside the window,

Their morning dance is a reminder

That harmony doesn’t require perfection.

As they stumble around looking for seeds of nourishment.

Meanwhile, Molly looks inside for

movement.

breath.

Just the courage to begin again.

Her tears now mixed with a purpose,

As rain joining the sea,

Finding its way home to something larger,

An ocean of love.

This is how we learn to swim

In deeper waters,

Where harmony isn’t just a word

But a way of being.

Molly rises,

Picking up her phone,

Typing: “I love you, even when we disagree.”

And waits.

The dolphins would understand –

How the pod moves as one

Through both calm seas and storms,

Never losing their song.