Cross-Shaped Leadership

Cross-Shaped Leadership

Mark 10:35-45

Let me start with a question that might make some of us squirm just a little: If James and John—the Sons of Thunder—were sitting in our pews today, what do you think we'd say about them?

They come to Jesus and basically say, “Teacher, we want You to do for us whatever we ask.” Bold, right? Then they drop the request: “When You come into Your glory, let one of us sit at Your right hand and the other at Your left.” Thrones. Status. The top spots. If they walked into a leadership seminar or church growth conference today, we'd probably pull them aside afterward and say, “Boys, you've got vision! That's the kind of ambition we need. Keep dreaming big—seize the moment!”

We'd hand them a copy of a leadership book, maybe even John Maxwell's The 21 Irrefutable Laws of Leadership, and say, “Here, Law #18 is all about sacrifice—give up a little now to go up later. You've got what it takes to climb the ladder.”

And honestly? We'd mean it. Because in the world—in business, in politics, even in too many corners of the church—ambition like that gets applauded and rewarded. We celebrate the climbers. The ones who grow the biggest churches, fill the biggest roles, get the biggest titles. Success looks like going up the ladder. That’s the world’s mentality—Leaders climb ladders!

But here's the thing that stops me cold every time I read this passage: Jesus doesn't applaud them. He doesn't hand them a promotion plan. He looks at these two ambitious disciples—right after He's told them for the third time He's going to suffer and die—and He says, in essence, “You have no idea what you're asking for.”

This morning we're looking at Mark 10:35–45, a passage that turns everything we think we know about leadership upside down. Jesus doesn't give James and John a pep-talk about seizing opportunity. He gives them—and us—a vision of greatness that doesn't run through boardrooms or bishop's chairs or even overflowing sanctuaries. It runs straight through a cross.

The path to greatness in God's Kingdom doesn't go up. It goes down. Leaders in the Kingdom don't just serve—they sacrifice. And the surprising truth is, this isn't just for pastors or missionaries or young people. This is for every one of us who says we want to follow Jesus.

Today I want us to look at what ‘cross-shaped leadership’ really looks like. And if we're honest—and I plan to be very honest with you—it might mean laying down some ladders we've been climbing. It’s not just about laying down. It’ll also be about picking up.

Let's look at what happens in Mark 10. James and John come to Jesus and say, “Teacher, we want You to do for us whatever we ask.” Jesus, patient as always, says, “What do you want Me to do for you?”

And they lay it out: “Grant us to sit, one at Your right hand and one at Your left, in Your glory.” Thrones. Honor. The prime seats in the Kingdom. These are the same two who, not long before, wanted to call down fire from heaven on a village that didn't welcome Jesus. But notice the timing. Jesus has just told them—for the third time—He's going to Jerusalem to suffer, be rejected, killed, and rise again. And right after that prediction, they ask for the VIP spots.

If I’m honest, I understand that impulse. We've all had moments when we wanted the spotlight, the recognition, the place of influence. Maybe not thrones, but the committee chair, the board seat, the “well done” from the right people. James and John weren't evil; they were ambitious. And ambition isn't always bad—until it blinds us to the way of the cross.

Jesus doesn't scold them. He simply asks them a question: “Are you able to drink the cup that I drink, or be baptized with the baptism with which I am baptized?” The cup—suffering. The baptism—immersion in pain and death.

They say, “We are able.” Brave words. Jesus tells them they will drink that cup and share that baptism—James would be martyred, John exiled—but the seats? “That's not Mine to give.”

Then the other ten hear about it and get indignant. Jealousy flares up. The whole group is caught in the same trap: who's the greatest? Sound familiar? They just had that discussion back in Mark 9. Let’s not be hard on them. We've had the same discussion in churches, in families, even in our own hearts.

This is where the rubber meets the road for me personally. Because if I'm honest—and I told you I would be—this passage has been confronting me hard this Lent. For years in ministry, I climbed the ladder too.

The weekly preparation has been challenging on every level as the Holy Spirit has confronted me with my own failures as a disciple. I won’t go into all those ways. This week I’ve been confronted with my own ambition and jealousy in years of ministry. Here’s the confession, and here’s our jumping off point: For years in ministry, I climbed the ecclesiastical ladder.