The Leader's True Power: From Intimacy to Authority

Picture a rookie police officer, fresh from the academy. He’s standing on the side of a busy road, his uniform crisp, the badge gleaming on his chest. In his hand, he holds all the legal authority to stop a speeding truck. But as the vehicle barrels towards him, his heart pounds in his throat. He raises a trembling hand and squeaks, “Maybe, please stop?” He has the authority, but he hasn't fully stepped into the identity of an officer. What's missing? It's not more training or a shinier badge. It's a deep, internal confidence in who he is. This is a challenge many of us face, especially in leadership. We have the title, the position, but we lack the unshakable confidence to act.

My son-in-law Matthijs, once shared a simple, three-word progression he touched in bible school that completely reframes this challenge: Intimacy, Identity, Authority. The secret to true, godly authority doesn't start with power; it starts with connection. It's an order of operations for the soul, and it begins in the quiet place of fellowship with God. 🙏

The foundational secret: intimacy

Everything of substance begins with intimacy. It’s a concept that is both profoundly simple and, for many Christians, the single greatest struggle. We can get so caught up in the 'doing' of faith—the service, the prayers, the study—that we miss the 'being'. The foundation of a leader's life isn't their skill set or their charisma; it's their closeness to the Father. When you are deeply connected with God, He begins to give you clarity on your identity. That clarity builds a quiet, resilient confidence. And it is from that place of confidence that you can begin to exercise godly authority. Psalm 25, verse 14 puts it beautifully: “The secrets of the Lord is for those who fear him.” Another translation swaps “fear” for “friendship.” This isn't a fear that makes you run and hide; it’s an awe-filled respect born from deeply knowing who He is. God is longing for friendship. He has called us, as it says in 1 Corinthians, “into fellowship with his son, Jesus Christ, our lord.” This fellowship is the starting point. It's so much more than reading a book or reciting a prayer; it's a living, breathing relationship.

The effortless growth of an apple tree

Jesus gives us a perfect picture of this in John 15 when He says, “I am the vine, you are the branches. The one who remains in me bears much fruit.” Think about that for a moment. An apple tree doesn't strain and sweat all summer, working really hard to produce apples. It’s the natural, effortless result of being a healthy apple tree, connected to its roots and its life source. The fruit just happens. This is one of those beautiful contradictions of faith. We feel we must work so hard to produce results, to be 'good' Christians, to be effective leaders. But Jesus says the key isn't in the trying; it's in the remaining. The only thing you have to 'do' is stay connected to Him. The fruit-bearing is His part. And the promise that follows is staggering. In verse seven, it says, “If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask whatever you wish and it will be done for you.” This isn't a magic formula; it's the natural outcome of a life so intertwined with God that your desires begin to mirror His. The 'remaining' is the intimacy we’re talking about—pulling Him into every aspect of your life, every thought, every decision.

A practical experiment in constant connection

How do we cultivate this kind of 'remaining' in a world of constant distraction? In our church, we once took on a challenge that made this abstract idea incredibly tangible. It was called the “60/60 challenge.” For sixty days, every sixty minutes you were awake, you would set an alarm. When that alarm went off, you would pause and intentionally spend a moment with God. It wasn’t about long, drawn-out prayers. Sometimes it was just a moment to thank Him. Sometimes it was asking Him a specific question about the situation you were in. Other times, it was simply remembering a piece of scripture or evaluating your thoughts. It was an exercise in active, constant fellowship. The experience was eye-opening. It made me realize how conditioned I was to make decisions based purely on my own thoughts or what I could see around me. This simple, repetitive action retrained my spiritual muscles to turn to the Holy Spirit first, to treat Him like someone who is truly with you all the time, not just someone you check in with at the beginning of the day. It was a powerful way to practice what it means to remain in the vine. ⏱️

The disciple who heard a heartbeat

There is a moment in the Bible that, for me, is the most profound and touching example of what this intimacy looks like. It’s in John 13, during the Last Supper. The atmosphere is thick with tension. Jesus has just announced that one of His own disciples will betray Him. Imagine the confusion and fear in that room. But then, verse 23 gives us this incredible detail: “One of his disciples, whom Jesus loved, was leaning against Jesus’ chest.” This was John. He was so physically close to Jesus that he could hear His heartbeat, so near that he could probably smell the bread and wine on His breath. He wasn't just near Jesus; he was resting on Him, drawing comfort and security directly from His physical presence. In the midst of the turmoil, Simon Peter, ever the bold one, wants to know who the traitor is. But he doesn't ask Jesus himself. Instead, he motions to John, quietly asking him to get the answer. Why? Because everyone in that room knew the unique connection John had. They knew he was close enough to ask the whispered, intimate questions. John then leans back against Jesus’ chest and asks privately, “Lord, who is it?” This is the friendship God invites us into. A closeness where He doesn't just reveal His plans, but He reveals His heart. He wants us to lean against His chest and talk with Him about everything—our life questions, our struggles, our sins. He wants to be that close.

From intimacy to identity: knowing who you are

When you experience that level of closeness with God, something fundamental begins to shift inside you. Intimacy forges identity. You stop defining yourself by your successes, your failures, or what others think of you. You begin to understand who you are in His eyes. I learned this in the rawest way when my mother passed away ten years ago. I was shattered. The grief was so overwhelming that I couldn't bring myself to do my normal devotionals or structured time with God. I was too broken. So I simply told Him, “I want to grieve when I’m with you. I need you to heal me.” In the weeks that followed, my time with God looked very different. Looking back, it felt like I was doing nothing but leaning on His chest, just like John. I was just crying, and He was just holding me. He answered my prayer by becoming the safe space for my grief. Through that process, He didn't just heal my pain; He solidified my identity. I felt so incredibly special to Him, not because of anything I did, but simply because I was His. I felt secure in who I was for Him, a security that can only be born from that kind of profound, personal encounter.

An unexpected answer in a car

God’s intimate care isn’t reserved only for moments of deep grief. He meets us in our shame and our struggles, too. I remember a time when I was wrestling with a significant mistake from my past. A feeling of shame hung over me like a heavy blanket, and I carried this old, nagging feeling that I had to work harder, do more, to make it right with God. I felt I hadn't shown enough regret. One day, I was driving to a random church service somewhere in the country, and I was just talking to God about it in the car, pouring out my frustration and my feeling of inadequacy. I arrived at the church, sat down, and the pastor began to speak. The entire sermon—for two hours—was about my exact struggle. It was about forgiveness, about forgetting what is behind you, about the freedom found in grace. It was as if God said, “Okay, you’ve been asking me about this. Sit down. I'm going to give you a two-hour lesson to make sure you get it.” It was such a direct, personal, and overwhelming response. It was the answer of a Father who listens intimately to the cries of His children and desires to set them free. This is the God who wants to talk with you. ✨

A word for men (and everyone) struggling to connect

I know that for many people, especially men, this concept of 'intimacy' with God can feel difficult or unnatural. Our culture often teaches men to be stoic, to handle things on their own, to not be vulnerable. But God made you a man, and He still longs for your heart. So, what’s the advice? Three words: just do it. Be honest. If you’re angry, confused, or frustrated, tell Him. He wants to hear your real heart, not a polished, religious performance. He values your raw honesty far more than a perfect prayer. The Psalms are filled with complaints and raw, honest emotion! God can handle it. To be clear, being angry *at* God implies He has done something wrong, which isn’t the kind of fear of the Lord we should have. But saying, “I am angry, and I don’t understand you or this situation,” is absolutely allowed. He appreciates that honesty. And then, you have to find what works for you. Your connection with God won’t necessarily look like someone else’s. I know a man who has his best times with God while driving in his truck. Another connects deeply while listening to classical music. Find your way. Sometimes the word 'prayer' itself feels like a religious activity. If that's a hurdle, then just think of it as 'talking with Jesus.' Make it a conversation. 💬

Stepping into your authority

When you have walked this path—when you have cultivated intimacy and allowed it to forge a secure identity in who you are as a child of God—you can finally circle back to that rookie police officer on the side of the road. But now, he is different. He is no longer trembling. When he raises his hand, it is steady. When he speaks, his voice is firm. He says, “STOP,” and the truck stops. Why? Because he is operating from a place of deep, internal confidence. He knows who he is. This is the nature of godly authority. It isn't loud, arrogant, or authoritative for its own sake. It is a quiet, confident strength that flows naturally from a secure identity, which in turn is rooted in a deep, intimate relationship with the Father. So I want to challenge you. Stop striving for authority. Stop working so hard to produce fruit. Instead, seek intimacy. Make it your life’s goal to lean against His chest and listen to His heartbeat. The identity and authority will follow. 💖Pioneers are everywhere, though sometimes we forget to recognize them. The Wright brothers took to the skies when everyone thought flight was a fantasy. Alexander Graham Bell’s crazy contraption lets us speak to loved ones across the globe. And, yes—Elon Musk is pushing us to a future with electric cars and reusable rockets. But what about in the Church? Apostles are those unique pioneers who don’t fear failure because their eyes are on a bigger reward: seeing God’s Kingdom advance. Where most people crave comfort, apostles are itching to break new ground, always pushing for more—even when it seems impossible.