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Volunteering—A Call to a Life Poured Out

April 10, 2025
By Heidi Stevens, Board Advisor and Fine Arts Director (Fall 2025)

When the Trellis (Parent Volunteer Network) leadership team asked me to put together some thoughts for their kickoff, they said it was because I’ve been around for a while and have memories of volunteering during Rockbridge’s first years. My husband Rick and I were on an early iteration of the working board of Rockbridge Academy, and I well remember what it took to open the school doors each year. By the grace of God, and through the tireless work of volunteers who gave endless hours of their time to make the audacious dream of starting a classical Christian school in Anne Arundel County come to fruition, Rockbridge Academy was born.

So, what did volunteering look like in 1995 and the years following? While there were certainly lots of important things to be done—like creating budgets, filing for permits, and writing curriculum—most of my own memories of the work are of a far humbler ilk. I remember the shoulder-to-shoulder physical work that went on every August, when parents, teachers, and board members did whatever was needed to ready the classrooms for the new school year. Secondhand desks were scrubbed and repaired, curtains were sewn and hung, and floors and baseboards were scoured and polished. And so many hours were spent—standing on ladders, dabbing with little sponge brushes—painting colorful wall stencils in each classroom. (It was the 90s, so of course, we painted wall stencils!) Painted apples bordered the walls of the kindergarten, colorful Egyptian hieroglyphs ringed the second-grade room, and nearly an entire wall of the fourth-grade classroom was transformed (thanks to laboriously rendered rocks) into something that looked like a medieval fortress. To supplement this trendy painted decor, we all scavenged from thrift stores, yard sales, and our own basements to find bookshelves and clocks and art for the walls and everything else you can imagine a school, created from nothing, needed.

Books for our fledgling library had to have those little borrower’s card pockets glued into the back cover, with a corresponding 3x5 card written out by hand for our cataloging system. Black and white pictures for the bulletin boards were colored with crayons or colored pencils. Posters, signs, lists, and rosters all needed to be carefully hand-lettered. (Did you know we also hand-wrote every report card in those early years?) We, virtually the entire community, spent so much time working at the school during those early days that many of us would bring pillows and blankets for our kids so they could go to sleep under a teacher's desk when it got late. The work would quietly continue apace around them. One or two people would always have crock pots full of food plugged in so that we could take a quick break for dinner and fellowship before getting back to work.

I think back on those days now and sometimes wonder, “How was that even sustainable? Was there anything healthy about that? What on earth were we thinking? Was it all worth it?”

Was it really worth it?

As I sit down to write out these thoughts, I admit that there is some irony in how long I’ve procrastinated about pulling together a few paragraphs of ideas for a ten-minute talk, even though I was asked to do so weeks and weeks ago. My slowness to get at this particular “volunteer” task makes me recognize how often I balk at interrupting my own life these days.

The current zeitgeist consistently tells me that “me time” is to be fiercely guarded and that “boundaries” are essential to my mental well-being. And even though the Christian will recognize the incongruity of hyper-self-focus with the biblical call to die to ourselves, I don’t believe we should throw out these notions entirely. The Bible has much to say about the need for rest and quiet, after all, and the notion of boundaries can help those who are chronic over-workers set a more reasonable and well-paced cadence to their commitments.

But musing about the early days of Rockbridge—and the question “Was it worth it?”—has reinvigorated me with hope for, and delight in, the work that might be put in by this current Rockbridge community. Because, you see, my chief memories from those first years actually have very little to do with the work itself. Rather than detailed recollections of every task on our endless checklists, my memories mainly involve the people and our “life together.”

But if our scale of worth runs broader and deeper—that is, if the doing itself becomes our own participation in the slow but beautiful work of weaving the fabric of life together—then every moment we spend is, of course, “worth it.”

Life together: this is the enduring memory for me, and it’s a large part of the sustaining vision that has kept me involved in this community for nearly thirty years. Because, if Rockbridge is a mere commodity—a place aimed only at creating a product that is the best quality at the highest value—then our work will always and only be measured on an economic cost vs. benefit sort of scale, and how we feel about our work will be tied to the unpredictable vicissitudes of what the results seem to be at any particular time.

But if our scale of worth runs broader and deeper—that is, if the doing itself becomes our own participation in the slow but beautiful work of weaving the fabric of life together—then every moment we spend is, of course, “worth it.”

Of course, there’s a reason we call volunteering an “investment” of our time. We use that financial language because we rightly recognize that God has ordained a limited number of hours and days and that we should spend them with wisdom. But he does not leave us without direction about what wise stewardship of that commodity looks like, and what the reward or benefit of our task should be.

Paul says, in Philippians 2:17, “But I will rejoice even if I lose my life, pouring it out like a liquid offering to God, just like your faithful service is an offering to God. And I want all of you to share that joy.”

Do you hear the language (here paraphrased in the NLT version) that re-orients us into a better way to think about the commodity and payment relationship? While Paul acknowledges that he may quite literally lose his life, he likens that loss of life to his hearer’s willing giving of their service. He says his offering of his very life is just like their offering of their “faithful service,” and tells them he longs for them to rejoice in that pouring out to which they are called. All of this, he frames, in the preceding verses, in the light of the gospel truth: that Christ came and poured himself out—perfectly, freely—for us.

I was delighted when Mr. Griffith chose Philippians 2's theme of “Life Together” for the theme for this school year, because I’ve been chewing for some time on the notion that I’m called to “pour out” my life. The question that’s been increasingly nagging at me as I get older is simple: What is my life for, if not to be poured out?

That question, which I’d often rather not listen to, is a gentle challenge to my self-protective tendencies, but it’s counter-balanced by the earlier question I acknowledged. Is it worth it?

Philippians 2 mercifully answers that it is. “Life together” is both the business we’re to be about and the bounty we’re meant to have. It’s the call on our lives and the consequence of pouring out our lives. It’s the requirement of life in community and the reward of life in community.

Life Together is worth it, for what are we made for, if not for pouring out?

Life Together is worth it, for what are we made for, if not for pouring out?

Especially at such a time as this.

Such a time at this, when it’s tempting to look at Rockbridge as well established, with loads of paid staff and growing programs and at least some small manner of bells and whistles…

It’s tempting to sit back and glory in accomplishments and achievements, and, if we’re honest, just as tempting to grumble about deficiencies and defeats. I’m not reminding you of these temptations, by the way, without reminding myself.

But in as much as I’m admitting my own need to guard against these temptations, let me ask YOU, again, as a curative to our consumer mentality, that question I can’t get out of my head.

What is life for, if not for pouring out?

What the founders of the Trellis organization have begun to put in place is a gift for our entire community. Their vision for quantifying and filling the many needs of our “Life Together” reminds me of a grown-up version of those early hand-written  “to-do” lists we had as a fledgling Rockbridge Academy. While desks may still occasionally need scrubbing if you have a willingness to do that, and while it’s possible painted wall stencils may come back into vogue (though I sincerely hope not), the breadth and vision of possibilities for service that Trellis has identified is so much broader.

With the scope of service opportunities identified by Trellis, I believe that everyone in this school has the opportunity to be woven into the richness of a life together. That life together is one of the sweetest distinctives about this place and, simultaneously, one of the chief rewards that make the work worth it. In fact, I might say, as Paul said to the Philippians: I want all of you to share in that joy.

I can’t wait to see how this vision unfolds and see how a community whose members continue to pour out their lives for one another bears witness before the watching world to the love of Christ, who didn’t hesitate to pour out His very life for us.

In all the big and small tasks that Trellis can help you discover, let's get at it together. Life together. It’s worth it.

Please reach out to the Trellis group if you're interested in sharing your gifts and coming alongside to help and support the mission and vision of the school. Reach out at: volunteer@rockbridge.org

Heidi Stevens has a long history of serving in various capacities (parent, teacher, board member) at Rockbridge Academy. She and her husband, Rick, have two daughters who are Rockbridge alumni. She joined the staff and faculty in 2000, and beginning in 2025, will serve as Rockbridge Academy's Director of Fine Arts.

 

Eight Lessons on Authority

February 20, 2025
By Jonathan Leeman, PhD

Authority has not been a popular idea since Genesis 3. Yet it has become especially unpopular of late.

We’re told we cannot trust the authority of the government, the church, the pastor, the media, the scientific establishment, definitely men, and probably not our parents, at least the ones who insist on their rules. Watch out for the Deep State, Big Eva, Mainstream Media, #metoo, #churchtoo, abusive pastors, and the list goes on. Both the political left and right have their list of bad guys. We’re all pretty suspicious.

The trouble is, we cannot live without authority. Should we drive on the right side or left? How does this game work? Who is married to whom? Am I responsible for these kids? What does she do when assaulted?

The solution to bad authority, it turns out, is not no authority, but good authority. Just ask the child who has been abused, the minority who experiences discrimination, or the church member whose conscience is violated. In each case, justice requires some other authority figure to step in and rescue.

Yet how much time have you spent reflecting on what good authority is? Here are eight lessons on authority—both the good and the bad.

1. Authority is a good and dangerous gift.

My friend Anthony told me about two of his high school coaches, one good and one bad. The good coach had high expectations, drilled the team, offered correction, and worked them hard. Yet he also knew the boys’ limits, sometimes joined them in the drills, and let them know he was for them. He cared more about their good than his own ego, and they felt it. Therefore, the boys worked hard and won games.

Meanwhile, Anthony explained the bad coach did just the opposite. He seemed most interested in feeling good about himself. Therefore, he belittled the boys, played favorites, pitted them against each other, and regularly mocked them. For him, they played poorly and lost games.

Authority is a good and dangerous gift. People can use it for great good or great harm. Authority in creation and redemption is good. Authority from the fall is bad. Christians must keep one eye on the good and one eye on the bad.  

Authority well used, said King David, is “like the light of morning at sunrise on a cloudless morning, like the brightness after rain that brings grass from the earth” (2 Sam. 23:4).

Meanwhile, authority wrongly used lies egregiously about God because it tells people that God uses his authority for harm.

2. Good authority doesn’t steal life but creates it.

Bad authority steals, oppresses, uses, usurps, exploits, violates, undermines, destroys, dehumanizes, annihilates. Sometimes it wears an empathetic and understanding face, but it uses you to serve itself.  

Good authority creates, builds up, strengthens, disciples, disciplines, corrects, encourages, gives opportunity, gives life, passes out power. Think of God. He created the universe and exercised rule by authorizing Adam and Eve to rule over the earth. He told them to be fruitful and multiply, subdue the earth and have dominion (Gen. 1:28). He “crowned” them and “put everything under their feet” (Ps. 8).

In other words, good authority goes right to the heart of human existence. God created every one of us to rule. Like the word author-ity, it authors life.

Good authority is the teacher teaching, the mother mothering, the pastor modeling. It says, “Watch me swing this golf club; now you swing it.” “Listen to me play this scale; now you play it.”

One of my daughters can be absent-minded. On one occasion, when teaching her to drive, she barreled toward a red light at full speed. She slammed on the breaks only after I said her name a third or fourth time, by that point quite loudly. Arriving home, I said to my wife, “That girl will crash our car.” We briefly wondered if it was foolish to teach her to drive. Just as quickly we said to ourselves, no, this is how people learn. Those with the authority have to instruct but then take risks, giving people a chance to make mistakes and grow.

3. Good authority is not unaccountable but submits to a higher authority.

Think of the incarnate Son. He only did what the heavenly Father told him to do, only said what the Father told him to say (John 5:19; 12:50). By submitting to the Father’s authority perfectly, the Son proved he was worthy of all authority (Matt. 28:18; 1 Cor. 15:27-28).

Authority and submission are two sides of one coin. By learning to submit we learn to lead. Never put someone into a position of authority who does not know how to submit, who doesn’t know that human authority is never absolute but is always accountable to someone, most of all to God.

When you lead, you're asking people to submit. So if you don't know how to submit, you're asking people to do something you don't know how to do, which is to say, you won't really know how to ask them to do it, other than by force of personality. That's not very good leadership.

Teachers, you want students to submit. If the students could see you after hours, would they see that you do a good job of submitting to the authorities over you?

A pastor once asked me how to instruct a woman who had shoved her teenage daughter in anger. In addition to apologizing to her daughter, I advised, the daughter needs to see her mother submit to the authorities over her, at least if she wants the daughter to learn to trust her authority again. Good authority submits—even a king (Deut. 17:18-20).

4. Good authority is not unteachable but seeks wisdom.

Compare the two Pharaohs, one at the time of Joseph and the other at the time of Moses. One sought the counsel even of the slave who had been locked in prison. The other rejected the instruction of an adopted prince raised in the palace. One sought wisdom, the other despised it. And in so doing, one saved his kingdom, the other destroyed it.  

Bad authorities believe they know everything they need to know. Good authorities seek out wisdom as if it’s hidden treasure.

So learned NASA. Before the Columbia and Challenger Space Shuttle disasters, the agency had ignored the warnings of their engineers. Afterwards, they spent days in flight readiness reviews, seeking as much counsel as possible. Those reviews made all the difference and saved lives. 
In the places of authority in your home or workplace, do you seek the counsel of those under you, like NASA learned the hard way to do? Do you ask your kids, how do you think I’m doing? How could I be a better mom or dad? Do you do that with your colleagues, administrators, and parents?  

5. Good authority is neither permissive nor authoritarian but administers discipline.

Failing to discipline and draw boundaries for children, for instance, creates narcissists—kids centered on themselves and ruled by their feelings. Boundaries teach a child, “You’re not the center of the universe. You must relinquish some of your desires, conform yourself to wisdom and the structures of the world around you, and consider other people.” Not only that, undisciplined children never learn the humility of accepting fences and disappointments. When college and adulthood then impose those boundaries—a failing grade, an employer’s reprimand, even encountering people with different political perspectives—they claim to be “triggered” and regard themselves as victims. Sociologists in turn write books criticizing the theories that contribute to a victim mentality. Yet the larger problem is the previous generation’s failure to draw boundaries and discipline their children.  

Good discipline, like trimming a rose bush, causes people to flourish. It makes the runner run faster, spouses love better. That’s why: “The Lord disciplines the one he loves” and “chastens everyone he accepts as his son” (Heb. 12:6).

At the same time, we all know stories of harsh and abusive authoritarians whose discipline didn’t strengthen, but diminished those under them. People often ask me what’s the sign of an abusive or harsh authority. Here are a few signs. An abusive or oppressive or harsh authority figure characteristically . . .
●    plays favorites;
●    blames those underneath them quickly—gaslights, you could say;
●    quickly pushes the costs downward onto those under them, rather than absorbing the costs (I’ll come back to this);
●    punishes those who disagree with him;
●    employs extreme forms of communication (temper, followed by silent treatment);
●    recommends courses of action that always, somehow, improve his or her own situation, even at the expense of others;
●    speaks often and quickly;
●    seldom does good deeds in secret;
●    seldom encourages;
●    seldom gives the benefit of the doubt;
●    emphasizes outward conformity rather than repentance of heart;
●    is a glory seeker and not a glory-to-God giver.


But even more, you can see an abusive or harsh authority in its effect on those who are being led. It affects different people differently, but over time, those who are led harshly can 
●    be diminished, anxious, suspicious of others.  
●    be self-doubting. 
●    become people-pleasers.
●    become trained in knowing how to smile on the outside, but think otherwise on the inside, which is to say they learn to be false, not sincere, cynical.
●    be unable or unwilling to trust.
●    learn to work hard only when people are watching them, and be lazy when people are not watching them. 
●    learn to be self-interested and not others-directed, because they live in a self-protective, defenses-up posture. 
●    learn to hate work and live for pleasure in a hedonistic way. Some form of hedonism (which combines moral rebellion and pleasure-seeking) becomes their escape. 

Teachers, if you’re too harsh, they’ll hate school and learning. 
I could go on.

May the Lord give you and each of us wisdom in knowing how to be a person who draws boundaries and implements discipline, yet always doing so carefully, circumspectly, lovingly, tenderly. Perhaps one of my biggest regrets in life is how hard I insisted on my firstborn finishing her food at the table when she was three or four. Really, Jonathan? Is that the fight you want to pick?

If you’ve been too passive, repent. You’re missing an opportunity to strengthen and equip. The Lord forgives. If you have been overly severe, you’re undermining personhood. Repent and seek the Lord’s forgiveness. He’ll give it.

6. It is not self-protective but bears the costs.

The temptation in leadership is to use the control we possess to push the costs downward. My eight-year-old daughter and I both sit comfortably in the living room. I ask her to get me a drink from the refrigerator, since I know she’s compliant and—at this age—happy to serve me. Yet notice what I’m doing. I’m using my authority to push the very light costs of getting out of a chair downward in the hierarchy to her. You might argue that this serves a good purpose in her life of teaching her to honor her father. Yet whether that’s true or not, I know my heart in that moment isn’t seeking her good. It’s just being lazy. I want to avoid the cost, so I pass it on to her.

No doubt, part of being in authority is distributing the costs of labor to different parts of a body or organization. Good leaders will delegate.

Still, there is a sense in which good leaders seek, as best as they can, to minimize the costs for those beneath them, all the while absorbing what costs they can upward. They want to spare those beneath them those difficulties and hardships. As I said, that’s the job…

In that sense, being “the boss” often is and should be one of the hardest jobs in any group. How often is the school principal or office manager the first to arrive and the last to leave on any given school day? So with the hard-working father. So with the coach.

It’s Sunday afternoon. Both my wife and I worked full time all week. Now I’m watching football. What’s she doing? Doing laundry in preparation for the week. Making meal plans. Running out to the grocery store. Looking over the kids’ assignments. There’s something wrong with this picture. Do you see it? I actually have a stronger physical constitution than her. I need less sleep than her. So how am I using those resources? Am I spending them on her or on myself?

I have to admit, I hate bearing the costs, especially of others’ mistakes. But isn't this instinct in me the least Christ-like part of me and my leadership? Didn't Jesus come not to be served, but to serve and give his life as a ransom for me? And the giving of his life--was that for his mistakes or for ours?

Have you noticed that the New Testament texts on authority all seemed to communicate that part of your job as an authority figure was to help ease the burden of those under you in their job of following you. "Fathers, do not exasperate your children." "Husbands, live with your wives in an understanding way." "Masters, stop your threatening." "Masters, treat your bondservants justly and fairly."

Good authority spends itself; it pays the costs. For the Son of man did not come to be served, but to serve, and give his life as a ransom for many (Mark 10:45). For the Son of man did not consider equality with God something to be grasped but made himself nothing and took the nature of a servant (Phil. 2:5-6).    

7.  Not All Authority Is Exercised in the Same Way

The Bible outlines at least two different kinds of authority: the authority of command and the authority of counsel, and understanding the difference will help us to exercise our authority rightly.

With both authority of command and counsel, you have been authorized to make commands and bind the conscience. They have this in common.

What’s the difference? Someone with an authority of command also has the right to enforce what he or she says; while someone with an authority of counsel does not, but must rely upon the power of the truth itself or upon Jesus to enforce it on the Last Day.

A few illustrations should help explain:
●    What kind of authority would you say the parents of young children have? The authority of command, because they can enforce their commands. “You must go to bed because I said.” In fact, the Bible gives us one word to illustrate this point: the rod.
●    What kind of authority would say the government possesses? Command. “You must pay your taxes and drive the speed limit.” And again the Bible gives us one word to summarize this authority: the sword.
●    And what about whole churches? Command. They can excommunicate you. And the one word? The keys.
●    Okay, what about husbands? Does the Bible anywhere provide husbands with a tool for enforcing their commands? You’d better say no. A husband has an authority of counsel. The moment he raises a hand, or even leans in physically with his body to intimidate and get his way, he’s using his authority abusively.
●    What about elders? Again, they possess an authority of counsel. The elders cannot invite you to their meeting to excommunicate you, at least not in the Bible. They have no enforcement mechanism, but must appeal to the congregation, like Paul himself does in 1 Corinthians 5: “I’ve passed judgment—verse 3. Now you pass judgment—verse 12.” And just anecdotally, I’d say, it’s often in elder-rule or CEO-senior-pastor churches, where elders have no accountability from below (or, if you must, from above, like a presbytery) that much of the abuse we hear about occurs.

Now here’s the crucial question: How does the fact that husbands and pastors have an authority of counsel, not command, shape how we use it? 
●    First, it requires patience. Authority of command asks for immediate results. Not an authority of counsel. It forces you to be patient, long-suffering, tender, consistent. It requires you to live with your wife and church in an understanding way. It requires you to woo and be winsome. In other words, it plays for growth over the long run, not forced outcomes and decisions in the short run, which is why Paul tells Timothy to teach “with all patience.” Husband, you possess authority to work for unity over the long run. Pastor, you possess authority to work for growth over the long run.
●    Second, it requires honor toward those you lead as equals. A police officer or the parent of a young child will sometimes override the agency of those they lead for purposes of protection and instruction. A husband or elder can never do that. They must always appeal to a person’s own agency, like you do in evangelism. A husband and elder’s authority is suited to partnership and collegiality because they don’t hold the ability to coerce. Their authority requires collaboration, involvement, and consent. In all of these ways, it’s evangelistic. 
●    Third, it requires presence. An authority of command doesn’t require presence, at least not initially. The government can announce its law from afar. But authority of counsel works in the context of relationship, example, and presence. I want to be with them. Know them. Understand them. Read their body language. Ask questions. Moderate what I say to where they are at. 
●    Fourth, authority of counsel is a sin-absorber. Further, the fact that you do not have the power of discipline means…get this…you are to be a kind of sin absorber. Very often, your job is to absorb the consequences of their sin. You don’t retaliate. You let them chew on your arm, and you don’t bite back. He came not to be served, but to serve, and give his life as a ransom for me. 
●    I remember one older pastor, whose wife was going through thyroid surgery, and whose emotions were out of control, saying to me: “Yeah, “Suzy” knows she can chew on my arm, and I’ll be okay.” Now, should a wife chew on a husband’s arm? No. But if she does, are you the kind of husband who can graciously take it? You’re not threatened or panicked. Your status in heaven and God’s favor are secure. You have nothing to prove. Your ego is not on the line. You respond with grace.
●    Fifth, authority of counsel requires the strength that comes with a deep and abiding confidence in God and God's authority. After all, you don't have the rod of discipline. You cannot force. Still, you know that God has made you the husband and the pastor. An elder must be sober-minded, he says elsewhere. We don't give a lot of attention to that attribute. But a good husband and a good elder, has a heaviness about him because he trusts the Lord. He's confident in who God made him. Weak and scared men scream. Confident, sober-minded men know how to speak softly. I've told my daughters more than once, don't marry fearful, insecure men. They're always compensating, and they use everyone around them to feel better about themselves. Instead, marry the man who is strong enough, or brother, work for the senior pastor who doesn't have to control every situation, because he's a Calvinist and he's utterly confident in God.

8. None of these rules matter if you’re the Pharisee and not the tax collector.

To some degree, you and I have both misused our authority by lording it over others. We’ve used our leadership to serve ourselves rather than others. For us to begin anywhere other than acknowledging and confessing these things would be to mimic the pharisee who thanked God he wasn’t like the tax collector (Luke 18:9-14).

Part of what’s wrong on this planet is that each one of us assumes, “I’ve used my authority relatively well,” when the Bible tells us over and over, “No, only one man used his authority perfectly well.” His name wasn’t Adam or Abraham, Moses or David, Miriam or Mary, Peter or Paul. It is Jesus, who “came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:42–45).

Therefore, if we think you can simply adopt the seven lessons above, we will remain proud. And if we remain proud, we will eventually use our authority in a way that hurts or belittles or undermines those whom we lead. We will use our authority wrongly, even if we dress it up with nice manners and lipstick. As Jesus said, a good tree bears good fruit, and a bad tree bears bad. We need new natures, so that we can lead out of those new natures.

To gain new natures, we must begin by getting low, confessing our sins, and putting our hope in Christ. This requires recognition and confession at the deepest levels of who we are, not just “Lord God, I have once or twice misused my authority. Oops. Sorry for the slipup,” but, “Lord God, I am, by fallen nature, a misuser of authority, and I will misuse it repeatedly apart from your grace.”

It requires repentance, faith, and looking to Christ. “Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the earth” (Matt. 5:5).

Jonathan Leeman is the editorial director for 9Marks, a Christian organization that provides insight and practical guidance to church leaders and members. After doing undergraduate and graduate degrees in political science, Jonathan began his career in journalism where he worked as an editor for an international economics magazine in Washington, D.C. Since his call to ministry, Jonathan has earned a master of divinity and a Ph.D. in theology and worked as an interim pastor. He and his wife, Shannon, have three daughters at Rockbridge Academy and one alumna.
 

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