Video: 3 Things You May Not Know about Servant Leadership

The Kingdom of God is Like the New Beatles Song

Nearly 50 years ago, John Lennon recorded Now and Then in his New York City apartment. Using nothing more than a boombox and his own piano, Lennon wrote what would become the Beatles' final song some five decades later. Lennon recorded the track through a single mono microphone, resulting in low quality audio that the band declined to release as part of their 1995 Anthology project.

Recent advances in AI made it possible to revisit Lennon's recording, isolating all aspects of the recording as separate tracks. This allowed the surviving two Beatles to add new vocals and guitar atop suddenly crystal clear audio, as if John were in the stuido with them today.

As I have listened and re-listened to Now and Then, I’ve read into the backstory of the song: Lennon’s composition, perhaps written as a statement of love and loss directed at Paul. The band’s decision not to release the track as part of the 1990s Anthology project. And finally, the arrival of new AI technology that allowed McCartney and Starr to finish and release the chart-topping track. 

And as I listen and read about the Beatles’ closing song, I can’t help but think that this track resembles, in no small way, what a life of faith looks like: our small efforts contributing to invisible transformation, one we glimpse in part yet do not experience in full. 

American theologian Reinhold Neibuhr said: 

“Nothing that is worth doing can be achieved in our lifetime; therefore we must be saved by hope… Nothing we do, however virtuous, can be accomplished alone; therefore we must be saved by love. No virtuous act is quite as virtuous from the standpoint of our friend or foe as it is from our standpoint. Therefore we must be saved by the final form of love which is forgiveness.”

Neibuhr’s quote had echoes of Martin Luther, who wrote in the Small Catechism that “The kingdom of God certainly comes by itself without our prayer, but we pray in this petition that it may come to us also.” 

God’s Kingdom breaks in slowly and silently. Our efforts, love, and service feel fragmentary and incomplete. Yet like John Lennon’s recording, they provide the raw material that will one day produce something wonderful, moving, even transformative. They become catalysts to future reversals and redemption that we may not be around to witness.

The Kingdom of God is like a Beatles song, released 50 years later in a way Lennon never would have expected. To paraphrase Walt Whitman, this powerful play goes on, and we may contribute a verse. Whether or not we see that verse added to song, whether or not we hear that song inspire and delight, the song comes nonetheless. 

The Kingdom of God is like a Beatles song. We create our verses. We may not ever press play on their recording. But they join the inevitable song of a band of witnesses, proclaiming grace, goodness, redemption - messages the world needs, both now and then. 

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@ryanpanzer writes about technology, religion, and servant leadership. He is an avid Beatles fan.

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Why LinkedIn Doesn't Want You to be a Servant Leader

Today I'm going to make the case that the greatest impediment to servant leadership in a digital age isn't TikTok, Instagram, Truth Social, or any of our other usual digital bad-guys. Rather, I'm going to suggest that LinkedIn of all places is the greatest obstacle to the practice of servant leadership in the workplace - particularly among Gen Z and Millennials.

LinkedIn creates a perpetual sense of vocational FOMO, limiting our ability to meaningfuly connect with our present moment contexts. The LinkedIn news feed produces this sense of malaise by cramming our feeds with two types of posts:

• "I'm thrilled to announce that I will be leaving to take a job (that sounds more more meaningful than yours)."

• "I'm beyond excited to announce that I have been promoted (to a rung on the career ladder that you may never attain)."

Exacerbating the FOMO, and arguably the imposter syndrome that these types of posts create, are the platform's endless lists of "relevant jobs," offering the allure of meaning and purpose on the other side of the career search.

This creates a vicious social media cycle:

1. I see my connections getting jobs that seem more meaningful than mine

2. This leads me to apply for more jobs

3. I don't land land those jobs, which heightens my FOMO and imposter syndrome

While LinkedIn's mission of creating opportunity is laudable, it's news feed and jobs app both condition us to expect constant and immediate gratification in our career. This expectation leads us to be dissatisfied and disengaged within our current vocations. And as a consequence, LinkedIn limits the practice of servant leadership.

When purpose and meaning are always one career move away from your current vocational home, service becomes secondary to status. Why seek to serve, and serve first, if you'd be better off working elsewhere? Why empty yourselves for the needs of your current vocational home when you'd be better off "bringing your talents" to someplace else? I've suggested that servant leadership is practiced when we commit to listening to one another's stories and learning one another's values. But to what extent is this conversational depth likely in the transient workplace created by LinkedIn?

Certainly, LinkedIn is not the only impediment to the relational depth required for servant leadership. Just as employees are increasingly disloyal to their employers, corporations have become disinterested in incentivizing long-term service. The median employee tenure at most companies is less than four years. Even the highest paid employees, the chief executives, rarely stay within an organization for more than three or four years. Those switching jobs stand to earn more than those who seek raises within their current institutions. And the recent spree of tech layoffs has shown that investors view job stability as less important than the momentary whims of the stock market.

But in our day to day experience, these macro trends are less palpable than the vocational fidgetiness produced by LinkedIn. 200 million Americans have a LinkedIn profile. 137 million Americans used LinkedIn every day. At this scale, we might forget the words of MLK, who spoke of the accessibility of service in all walks of life:

"Everybody can be great … because anybody can serve. You don’t have to have a college degree to serve. You don’t have to make your subject and verb agree to serve. You only need a heart full of grace. A soul generated by love." -Martin Luther King Jr.

Servant leadership is a practice of prioritizing service amongst everyday realities. It can be practiced in all domains and vocations. A servant leader doesn't need to have the best job in their professional network. But they do need a heart motivated by service, a willingness to bring people together, and the ability (to paraphrase Robert Greenleaf) to make their communities healthier, wiser, freer and more autonomous.

When LinkedIn triggers a tinge of jealousy over a rapid promotion cycle, or sends you a jolt of FOMO about the job prospect that seems just beyond your reach, it doesn't inspire service. It stymies it.

Seek first to serve. Seek not to scroll. The world needs servant leaders in all jobs and vocations, especially the one you find yourself in today.

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@ryanpanzer is a recovering regular LinkedIn user.

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