by Eddie Pipkin

In a crazy moment last week, a baseball manager got kicked out of a game for something he didn’t even do.  Yankees manager Aaron Boone was ejected by the home plate umpire for critical comments – except Boone argued – and video clearly confirmed – he was innocent.  It’s a stunning example of how power is exercised, and how those of us who exercise power over others – whether it’s a lot or a little – have an obligation to use that power responsibly.  Do we impose our will arbitrarily, or do we act judiciously and fairly, even when we’ve made an initial mistake?  How we answer that question can deeply influence the institutional cultures in which we serve.

Here’s the context: Yankees manager Aaron Boone was thrown out of the game by an umpire who had cautioned him to stop criticizing calls of balls and strikes at the plate – and for even further context, this was only five pitches into the game!  “One more word, and you’re out,” the ump decreed (as was his right, such authority established clearly by the codified rules of the game).  Then, on the very next pitch, when he did, in fact, hear  one more word, the ump exploded and immediately he ejected the manager.  The thing was, Boone hadn’t uttered the one more word – it was a fan behind the dugout.  The umpire, however, was unrelenting in his punishment.  Here’s a video breakdown of the whole incident (Warning: adult language!).

Boone runs out of the dugout to the plate, hands in the air, proclaiming, “I didn’t say a word!” (using a slightly more colorful phrasing).

The umpire replies, “I don’t care!”

“What do you mean you don’t care,” Boon argues.  “I didn’t say a word.”  And he had not, keep in mind.  It was a fan in the stands (and even the fan’s comment was relatively innocuous).

Boone points out that it was the fan, and the umpire acknowledges, “You’re probably right,” but, even so, he refuses to backtrack, hauling out the convoluted reasoning that the manager is ultimately responsible for all conduct on the field . . . and in the stands!  The ejection remains in force.

This was a decision almost universally lambasted by commentators.  And reading what sportscasters and ordinary fans had to say, I thought this observation by Ken Rosenthal, writing for The Athletic, was a great reminder for leaders in authority everywhere:

If sports are meant to be a metaphor for life, here’s the moral of the story as far as I’m concerned: If you are in a position of authority over someone else – parent-child, police-civilian, umpire-player/manager – you do not have the moral right to escalate conflicts.  Authority is a privilege, and the price of power is maturity.

We all have authority over somebody as we move through life.  How we choose to implement that authority says much about who we are and how successful we will be as leaders.  It is possible to accumulate great power and be despised.  It is also possible to build influence and change the world for good while being loved and respected.

In a blog entry from way back in 2016 (on a timeless subject), Brent Kompelein wrote about this topic, summarizing some of Andy Crouch’s arguments as to how Jesus exercised his power in remarkable and unexpected ways.  As perhaps the most vivid example, on the night before his death, Jesus washes the feet of the disciples:

By recalling this occasion, Crouch reminds us that, like Jesus, we shouldn’t relinquish our power but follow our Savior’s example by redefining it, as he commands us to in John 13: “If I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you” (John 13:14–15).

Much of the rest of Playing God explores exactly how to redefine power. But what did it mean for Jesus to give up the privilege that came with his power in the first place? Crouch notes how drastic this move was for the most prominent person in the room to willingly wash the feet of everyone else. How indicative of Jesus’s condescension; what a clear illustration of his incarnation. Jesus came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many (Matt. 20:28; Mark 10:45).

This redefinition of power anchors the concept of “servant leadership.”  We do not lord our authority over others (whether that authority is established by divine grant, organizational flowchart, or practical realities).  We do what is best for all, even if that means sacrifice and a demonstration of humility on our part:

  • We don’t issue arbitrary decrees with the sole purpose of demonstrating who’s the boss.
  • We always listen with an open mind (even when those to whom we are listening have a history as troublemakers and rabble rousers).
  • We are willing to admit when we make a mistake. (This is not a demonstration of weakness.  This is a demonstration of strength.)
  • We act with mercy and compassion and empathy, even when tough decisions must be made.
  • We communicate openly about what we are doing and why.

There have, of course, been entire books written about servant leadership.  Hopefully, you’ve read a few and applied those principles.  The point of this blog is to remind us all to avoid the knee-jerk overreactions that can flare up in those moments when it feels like our authority is being challenged.  Good decisions, as individual episodes, will rarely be singled out as heroic moments of leadership.  Our reputation as thoughtful leaders who deploy power with grace will be built over time.  In contrast, one glaring misuse of power will be fodder for repeated review and ridicule: it will haunt us.

One overreactive dictatorial moment can destroy years of goodwill.  We have the luxury of not living under the pressure cooker of real-time decision making that defines the careers of baseball umpires and air traffic controllers, but we do regularly face high stakes decisions, so it’s important to mentally rehearse how we will slow down the process when the drama ramps up.

Good habits in small things build reflexes that will serve us well under pressure.  Thoughtful practices in small exchanges make us thoughtful leaders in big moments.  Jesus’ use of power is worth a close study.  He illustrates that power is not a limited resource to be hoarded and defended.  It is part of God’s creative process; its wise use, shared with others to honor their unique gifts and hard work, grows and expands the community.

How do you feel you do with exercising your power?  Are you judicious?  Are you a genuine servant leader?  Or are you just pretending to be one?  Do you lash out at others, imposing your will imperiously when emotions escalate?  Or do you remember your principles, leading by the example of Jesus, using each moment of potential conflict as an opportunity to demonstrate grace and wisdom?  Share your thoughts in the comments section.