Ego in Service | The Right Call S1E6

When I was at Sprint, my center manager looked like the picture of humility. Easygoing, soft-spoken, asked for input, never raised his voice. A few months in, I realized he wasn't humble at all. He was serving his career. The calm demeanor was what he showed his superiors so he could fit in, make no waves, and keep advancing.

We've all seen versions of this. The boss who acts humble in meetings and still controls every decision. The leader who talks servant leadership and is really only serving his own career. Elizabeth Holmes built a whole persona on it at Theranos, and that performative humility didn't just fail. It enabled one of the largest corporate collapses of the decade.

So here's the wrong assumption most of us carry: that humility means looking modest. Listening first, giving credit, admitting mistakes in the all-hands meeting. Modern psychology calls it intellectual humility, and the research says it builds trust. It also says something else. Over time, teams led that way tend to become more dependent on the leader, and the leader's personal power grows. The ego never left center stage. It just put on a different skin. It's still me managing my image, me avoiding embarrassment, me in the driver's seat while appearing humble.

What humility meant in the ancient world

Ask a Roman senator what humility meant and you'd get a very different answer. The Latin humilitas and the Greek tapeinos meant crushed, debased, brought low. It described slaves, prisoners of war, the defeated. Nobody chose it. It was what happened to you when life or the Empire ground you down. A free citizen avoided anything that looked like it, because Rome ran on honor, status and reputation.

Here's the irony. When leaders deliberately choose that lowliness, the research lights up. A large meta-analysis of truly humble leadership found strong links to the things every executive cares about: emotional commitment to the organization, trust in the leader, job satisfaction, engagement, creativity, and people willing to speak up. That isn't nice-guy behavior. It's a measurable performance advantage. Leaders who step down in status make room for everyone else to step up in contribution.

Jesus didn't shrink his ego. He harnessed it.

The ideal Roman servant was supposed to have no independent ego at all. In reality, plenty of slaves worked hard with one eye on eventual freedom. Jesus had none of that hidden self-interest. He didn't suppress his ego or dilute it. He marshaled it, fully and intentionally, and directed every part of himself in service to the Father's will. He exercised unmistakable authority, confronted wrongs, cast the vision, all from a humble position he chose to occupy.

The result was a handful of fishermen, a tax collector and some laborers who became the core of a movement that has outlasted the Roman Empire and every empire since. That's the multiplier effect at its purest.

As he said, "The Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many." That's our model. Ironically, it's also our freedom.

Pick one habit this week

High-performing organizations train for this. Elite military units hold after-action reviews where leaders own their mistakes before anyone else speaks. We can do the same:

• Schedule an ego audit. Ask the team, "What am I missing?" Then actually listen.
• Celebrate wins publicly; own misses privately, or publicly when it's appropriate.
• Find a mentor who will challenge your self-image instead of stroking it.

We don't grow this by trying harder to look humble. We grow it by accepting that we are servants first, and then building habits that keep the ego harnessed and aimed at the thing we've chosen to serve.

A question to sit with

When we look honestly at our own humility, is the ego gone, or is it just wearing a different costume? And what would it look like to put all of it, ego and all, to work for the mission?

This is Episode 6 of The Right Call: Wisdom Simply Applied.