By Seth McManus
May 1, 2024
Listen to this post.
I don’t think I’m a very good leader.
I grew up in the South of the United States in a small, homogenous town. The churches I went to while growing up were small and unremarkable but warm and welcoming. Leaders were people out there doing big things in Washington, D.C., and in big churches. Then there was us in our small town.
My small Southern church began mirroring the teachings of pastors like Mark Driscoll and Bill Hybels in the early 2000s as they loomed large in my Evangelical world. These men were pastors of massive, growing churches in big cities who talked loudly and confidently. They influenced thousands of Christians in the white Evangelical church of the United States for decades through sermons, Bible studies, church growth models, and more. Surely, I thought, they were prime examples of true leaders.
White, Influencer Jesus
My vision of what a leader ought to look like greatly colored my view of Jesus. I knew that Jesus spoke to massive crowds and influenced their hearts and minds. He started a new movement and founded a new religion. (That’s an impressive list of accomplishments for someone in their early 30s!)
In my previous context, I had all my high school and undergraduate confidence, optimism, and ignorance. I admired a Jesus that looked a lot like me—but better.
If this Jesus lived today, he would certainly write something that would soar to the top of the New York Times Bestseller list. His book would eventually make it into the curriculum of my small town’s youth group. This Jesus taught me that seeking notoriety was a godly endeavor because of the possibility for impact (for the “sake” of the Kingdom, of course). This Jesus gave me all the answers of how to understand science, history, and politics. This Jesus neatly agreed with my binary view of the world. This Jesus valued truth over grace.
This Jesus taught me that my own emulation of other white Christian leaders with massive platforms was something the rest of the world needed to experience.
Then, allegations of manipulation, abuse, and harassment were publicly launched against the pastoral leaders I was once taught to imitate.
The people around me seemed to just shrug these stories off. But to me, it felt like the very core of my religion was crumbling around me. I felt completely overwhelmed and isolated. If these were our best examples of leaders, then why on earth would I want to become a leader? If these were the men who were supposed to be our prophets and teachers and they were full of lies, what else about this whole faith thing isn’t actually real?
If these were our best examples of leaders, then why on earth would I want to become a leader?
Was I missing something? I thought I knew Jesus. I thought Jesus looked like me—like these leaders.
These leaders did not look like Jesus at all. They looked like white, influencer Jesus. A Jesus who comforts the comfortable and afflicts the afflicted. An image of success that is unfortunately hollow and not faithful.
A “New” Jesus, A “New” Vision for Leadership
I was always deeply committed to my Christian faith, and it seemed the most deeply committed people I knew about were missionaries. So, at the end of high school, right before beginning my time at university, I decided I would study to become a “missionary.” I left my small, homogenous town and started on a journey with intercultural ministry. I started that journey thinking that I understood well exactly who Jesus was and that I ought to share that understanding with others. I was given the opportunity to travel the world and learn. My life went from monocultural to intercultural quite rapidly, and this gave me a new vision of leadership.
I started that journey thinking that I understood well exactly who Jesus was and that I ought to share that understanding with others.
I moved to a low-income neighborhood in a Midwestern United States city. I walked a vibrant Dominican neighborhood with a local pastor. I sat in the court of a West African Muslim king. I spent a summer shadowing Kenyan pastors and social workers who were facing the challenges of extreme poverty. I sat in the homes of Syrian refugees while using odd jobs to make it by in Lebanon. I brushed shoulders with those who survived, fought, and defeated apartheid in South Africa. I shared a meal with a survivor of the Khmer Rouge genocide in Cambodia. The experiences go on. Today, I have the opportunity each week to teach refugees how to ride my city’s bus system.
And to my shock, none of the people I met on these journeys had cult followings or massive platforms. None of them were on the NYT Bestseller list. They had no slick graphics outlining their strategic plan. Yet, they were incredible leaders—the finest I might ever meet in my time on this planet.
At some point, it became painfully clear to me: white, influencer Jesus does not exist.
Each relationship, story, and lesson along the way slowly chipped at the shiny mosaic of white, influencer Jesus in my head and in my heart. At some point, it became painfully clear to me: white, influencer Jesus does not exist. It was through the gift of these relationships and encounters that I began to truly understand Jesus—the real Jesus.
Jesus, born to an unwed mother in a cave used for housing animals.
Jesus, born into an infant genocide in the area of the world we now call Palestine.
Jesus, forced to be a refugee to Africa.
Jesus, the brown-skinned carpenter from the bad part of town.
Jesus, the traveling teacher who relied on women for his needs.
Jesus, the nonviolent revolutionary who was murdered by the state.
Jesus, who came to release the prisoners from their bondage.
Jesus, who came to give good news to the poor.
Jesus, the one who cared for the whole of a person: the physical, the spiritual, the economic, and the social.
Jesus, whose life was much more about service than spectacle.
A “Re-Conversion” Into the Way of Jesus
I thought that I knew Jesus—until I met him. I met him in the refugee, the poet, the social worker, the survivor, and the activist. None of them looked like me. But they sure looked like Jesus.
As my view of Jesus changed, my view of leadership changed. Those the world calls the “least of these,” in my experience, are often the best leaders. They’ve encountered obstacles that I still cannot imagine working through.
I used to think the best leader was the loudest, the most confident, and the one with the strongest vision. Now, I deeply believe being faithful, constant, present, and humble is what it means to be a good leader. The deep hurts and needs of the world need faithful presence, not another strategic posture or poised platform.
Now, I deeply believe being faithful, constant, present, and humble is what it means to be a good leader.
Now, the journey of being a Christian leader to me looks like finding ways to leverage my privilege for the benefit of others. It often looks like using any platform I have as an opportunity to share the stories of folks who don’t look like me but who look a lot like Jesus.
Taking up space in the spotlight is easy. Learning to see and transform your own ignorance is much harder. But it’s worth doing.
So, yes, I don’t think I’m a very good leader. Even today, I often find myself trying to emulate white, influencer Jesus. But I know better, and I’m trying to do better. The stories entrusted to me deserve that much.
The way of Jesus calls me to be more gracious, more loving, more inclusive, and more just. My leadership is a work in progress. And I’m still learning to put my faith in the real Jesus, the one who comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable.
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Seth McManus, Polaris Fellow 2023
Seth grew up near Tallahassee, Florida, and currently lives in Indianapolis, Indiana. He’s been involved in intercultural and campus ministry for a few years and has had the privilege to be shaped and changed by visiting places like Cambodia, Kenya, Cameroon, South Africa, Mexico, and more. Seth enjoys movies, trying new food, traveling, and playing and listening to music. Currently, he is working with partners across the world to start a campus ministry in Gqeberha, South Africa. He also facilitates a racial justice-based leadership cohort for students at Butler University. He studied at Johnson University and Asbury Theological Seminary in Intercultural Studies. Seth was nominated by Discipleship Initiatives with Young Adults at Fuller Youth Institute.