Leading from Within
Introduction
It started on a quiet morning walk.
I was tired. Not just physically, but soul-tired. Leading a team I deeply cared about, carrying the weight of decisions, expectations, and a growing sense that I was slowly disappearing behind a mask of competence. I remember pausing under a line of old trees, asking myself a question I hadn’t made space for in a long time: What’s actually leading me right now?
The deeper I journey into the study and practice of leadership, the more I realize that leading others begins with leading myself. That morning was one of many small awakenings in a much longer path.
Voices like Edwin Friedman’s call to self-differentiated leadership and Simon Walker’s vision of undefended leadership have both challenged and comforted me. They haven’t just shaped how I think about leadership; they’ve touched on something at the level of identity.
As I’ve integrated these insights with my own story, faith, and patterns of leading, I’ve started to notice a shift. I’m less drawn to leading from proving, performing, or pleasing, and more compelled by something quieter and more transformational. Leadership, at its best, is its own ministry of presence because it is about the soul.
This reflection is a kind of map, tracing some of the inner thresholds I’ve crossed, and a few others I’m still approaching.
Inner Vulnerability and the Courage to Be Seen
The first threshold was realizing the emotional cost of authenticity. I experienced this recently when I wrote a blog post for Healing Leadership Trauma, where, for the first time, I shared my full personal story in writing. Though I’d shared parts of my testimony before in smaller groups, this public expression felt different. It was risky. It was exposing. It felt like stepping out onto a ledge. Walker would call this an act of undefended leadership, one that leads not from a polished ego but from the true self.[1] And it was in that vulnerable space that I found my voice.
But that voice doesn’t always feel safe. In my professional and personal life, I often carry anxiety, some of it from trauma, some from past job wounds, and some from internal narratives telling me I’m not enough. I continue to manage this by being self-aware of how my communication lands with others, and careful not to appear arrogant or underconfident. Edwin Friedman would say this reveals an emotional fusion with the system, a form of over-functioning that steals clarity.[2] But I’m learning. Learning to pause. To assess. And to hold firm when I believe something is right, even if others don’t see it yet.
Self-Differentiation, Conviction, and Moral Clarity
Friedman’s framework of leadership in anxious systems continues to teach me about the power of conviction. Consensus, while beneficial, is not always the ultimate goal. Sometimes, the leader must stand alone in moral clarity for the right reason. One key area of growth for me has been embracing the idea that leadership is not always about being liked; it’s about being faithful. The daughter of a self-proclaimed people pleaser, my mother often laments her “disease to please,” which is rooted in trauma. When I encounter pushback, whether from outdated systems or confident voices who are, frankly, “full of it,” I remind myself that my authenticity matters, and so does diplomacy. I have begun to lead with a deeper trust in my internal compass. Self-assessing my thinking, checking it against values, and then moving forward. That said, this quality does not come naturally. There are still many days when I feel underqualified, especially in my newish role as an operations director.
Soul Thresholds and the Ethics of Fundraising
One of the most significant recent threshold crossings I have experienced is my shift in values regarding philanthropy. After decades in the fundraising profession, I now find myself rethinking the very system I helped build. I’ve come to believe that people are worth more than charity. Our nonprofit sector, though often well-intentioned, has created co-dependent cycles that unintentionally reinforce the very conditions it aims to address. Increasingly, I find myself advocating for models rooted in dignity, mutual benefit, openness, bottom-up empowerment, and the self-actualization of those we serve.
This conviction has also reshaped my perspective on innovation. While I deeply believe in diversifying nonprofit revenue models through social enterprise, I have never personally launched one. Yet I continue to speak about the need for innovation, not from experience, but because the current system, built on dependency and scarcity, is unsustainable. That, too, is a form of self-differentiation: leading not from expertise, but from principle.
This isn’t just a policy shift; it is a spiritual one. There will always be poverty. But people in crisis deserve more than a handout; they deserve the opportunity to flourish. And if I am unwilling to say that aloud simply because I haven’t personally launched a social enterprise, then maybe I’m not practicing what I preach. Walker reminds me that the undefended leader doesn’t need to be the expert; they simply need to be present, honest, and willing to invite others into a more courageous future.[3]
The Evolution of My Leadership Identity
A direct result of the lessons of the Doctor of Leadership in Global Perspectives program and my increased understanding of Christ, my leadership identity is no longer built on external validation. Intellectually, I’ve learned to assess my own thinking, to identify credible sources, and to pursue diverse perspectives, not to win debates, but to understand people. Emotionally, I’ve become more attuned to my triggers and more aware of when I’m performing versus when I’m showing up as myself. Spiritually, I’ve come to understand that engagement is not the same as endorsement, and that my presence in challenging situations is sometimes the clearest representation of Jesus that someone may ever encounter.
Friedman’s clarity, Walker’s vulnerability, and my own walk of faith are converging into a more whole and grounded version of leadership, one that listens deeply, discerns carefully, and acts with conviction.
New Thresholds Ahead
I sense that my next level of growth will be stepping into courageous leadership in new environments where I lack deep experience. It’s not easy to speak boldly about ideas I haven’t fully practiced, but if I wait until I’ve mastered them, I’ll never lead. This season is calling me to live what I believe: that conviction is a valid form of leadership, and that vision rooted in dignity and truth can lead even before the proof arrives.
Practically, I’ve also learned to manage my presence and energy better. I discovered that switching between back-to-back meetings and production work erodes my effectiveness. I now intentionally protect space for focused contribution, knowing that presence, not pace, defines my impact.
Conclusion
Leadership formation is not about image, but rather integration. I am learning to lead from the fullness of my whole self: intellectually humble, emotionally aware, and spiritually grounded. I am learning to be proud of my authenticity, rather than apologizing for it. And I am committed to going where others won’t, into prisons, into poverty, into broken systems, because that’s where the margins meet the soul of leadership.
More than anything, I want to lead with presence, not pretense. With courage, not consensus. And with a truth that transforms from the inside out.
[1] Walker, Simon P. The Undefended Leader. Carlisle: Piquant, 2010. P.22.
[2] Friedman, Edwin H., Margaret M. Treadwell, and Edward W. Beal. A Failure of Nerve: Leadership in the Age of the Quick Fix. 10th anniversary revised edition. New York: Church Publishing, 2017. P. 14.
[3] Walker, Simon P. The Undefended Leader. Carlisle: Piquant, 2010.
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