A Leader I Will Follow
We all have our quirks, the things that make us who we are. When we think about the people we love, some of what makes them unique causes us to laugh, roll our eyes, or shrug our shoulders because we know that is who they are.
I have a fear of deep, open water. Imagine this scene. I am at the beach, vacationing with friends. We’ve been hanging out on the shore for hours, and as the sun lingers, someone says, “I’m roasting; let’s get in the water and cool off.” We all make our way to the ocean and begin to immerse ourselves. Step by step, we are moving into deeper water. As the water rises to my chest, I turn around and walk back to the shore. My friends continue until they can no longer touch the ocean floor, and after a few minutes, they notice I’ve returned to the beach. They laugh, not at all surprised by my decision. They know this part of me.
My fear of the deep unknown extends to caves. The idea that someone would walk miles down into the earth, knowing that nature could turn on her water faucet and fill that space like an inground pool at any moment, takes my breath away. While I am intrigued by the ecosystems of cave life, I have no desire to experience it firsthand.
However, over the past few months, I have become fascinated by the experience of the young Thai soccer team who found themselves trapped underground. I have watched every movie and documentary – at times with one hand over my eyes – that I can find. Every version is different, but I believe there is truth in each unique retelling.
In June of 2018, 12 boys between the ages of 11 and 16, along with their 25-year-old assistant coach, began to explore a cave in rural northern Thailand. This was their backyard, their playground. The monsoon season had yet to arrive, and they were unaware that rainfall was in the forecast. After entering the cave, unbeknownst to them, it began to rain. The sudden rush of water forced them to retreat deeper into the cave, where they were eventually trapped on a rock shelf, surrounded by water, 2.5 miles from the cave's entrance, alone in the dark for 18 days.
I am amazed at the resilience of the boys who waited each day without confirmation that help was coming. I am curious about how their young coach remained calm in that space. I am blown away at the international, multilingual, cross-cultural team effort to rescue the boys. There are so many leadership lessons in this real-life case study.
While watching one of the documentaries, I had to press pause and write down what the boys had agreed to because it hit me like a sucker punch to the soul.
In this scene, a diver had just arrived, and the boys discussed who should be the first to leave the cave. They were completely unaware that their family members, local villagers, government leaders, the military, international media crews, and divers from around the world had set up a small city at the cave’s entrance. They had lost track of how long they had been trapped. The boys assumed they would each need to walk home.
They agreed that the boy who lived the farthest from the cave should be the first to leave so he could give the other boy’s parents good news as he walked past their homes. They wanted him to share that everyone was okay and would return home soon.
The mental image of an emaciated young boy, who had been trapped deep within the earth, in total darkness, for several weeks, emerging and walking down a muddy village road, letting others know that hope is alive and announcing that his teammates were safe, did something to me.
On our darkest, most difficult days, we need leaders who will bring us good news. The kind of people who show up when life feels too heavy and too hard. They speak with certainty; they reassure us and remind us that we should continue to put one foot in front of the other. They lift us up.
We need leaders who have been in the trenches, survived their darkest hours, explored the unknown, faced their demons, wrestled with what lurks below, and emerged as dealers of hope.
Too many leaders want to deal in hope without spending any time in the darkness. They want to inspire others to move through the trenches of life without ever setting foot in the muck themselves. They want to point the way and say follow me while never having experienced what it feels like to be lost. They tell you to just keep swimming when they have never dared to dip their toe into the water, let alone fight a current pulling them out to sea. They want to embrace the known without ever being overwhelmed by the unknown.
Leaders who fail to spend time in the dark but speak of the light are inauthentic and untrustworthy.
Give me a leader who has been in some dark places; that is a leader I will follow.
I can’t count the number of times in my life when I have experienced this firsthand. It comes in many forms, but the overall sentiment is, “I’ve been where you are; good is coming just around the corner, don’t give up. You got this.”
That does it for me, and suddenly, I am back on track.
Our difficult days in the caves of life are what make us human.
We need leaders who are human, those who have walked out of the darkness and emerged with a story to tell.
The world needs this good news now more than ever.
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