influence
One of the great tensions that exists in spiritual leadership is handling influence. Nobody comes into a leadership role, a position of influence, or even a relationship with entirely pure motives. Waring beneath the surface of our lives is both the desire to do good and the misguided search to fill our need for validation. At times we can be humble and others-focused, while at different times be self-promoting and manipulative. As Brennan Manning says, “we are a bundle of paradoxes.”
The root of the tension that exists in us as it relates to influence is an issue of glory. When we’re oriented to a greater glory, we discover a deeper validation that frees us from mishandling our influence with others. But in seasons when the momentum of our lives are oriented towards our own glory, we crush the people around us by asking them for treasures they do not possess.
In our online culture, the lines of glory often seem blurred, especially in circles of Christian influence. We post and peddle a version of ourselves, sometimes in the name of God, that may not be congruent with who we are most of the time. We want the false-validation that comes from being seen as someone worth noticing. All of our projecting is hard to reconcile with the way we see Jesus approach influence.
While Jesus certainly would be justified in promoting himself, he rarely did so. He seemed almost reluctant to broadcast his work for fear the masses would try to make him something he was not. Jesus, the king of glory, preferred being secretly incredible. Many times after healing someone, he would ask them not to tell anyone where the miracle came from.
When he transformed nearly 150 gallons of water to wine to save the day for a family hosting a wedding, only a few people close to Jesus knew he was the one behind the miracle. John tells us that upon tasting the water to changed to wine “the master of the feast did not know where it came from” and gave credit to the bridegroom for such an incredible gesture that he would save the best wine for the end of the party (John 2:9-10).
What strikes me is what Jesus didn’t do in that moment. Rather than stepping forward to capitalize on his miracle for the sake of his message, Jesus let the bridegroom become the hero. Almost as quietly as Jesus transformed the water, he was content to slip away with his friends and family and let the real story remain a mystery.
The power of being secretly incredible is that if often makes others the hero. Through our hidden actions, we have the ability to lift others up so they might experience the transforming power of God’s grace. This emptying of ourselves is precisely what Jesus did with his life, death, and resurrection so that we might share in his glory.
Listen to what John says about the highlight reel of Jesus’ life. “Now there are also many other things Jesus did. Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written” (John 21:25). How fitting that as we peer back through history, we only see a small piece of all that Jesus did in his life. So much remains unknown, except to those who experienced it first hand. The most powerful redemptive stories are ones we will never hear about this side of heaven… the quiet obedience of faithful women and men who freely give of themselves.
At the height of his influence, John the Baptist was confronted with this tension. His crowds had begun to thin out as many people were now going to Jesus. When asked about his waning influence from a concerned follower, John replied, “He must become greater, I must become less” (Jn. 3:30). John understood the issue of glory and oriented himself to that which was greater, Jesus.