Lead with a Limp

— by Justin Forman

We have three kids, 12, 9 and 7. And while Hollywood production shuttered this past year, one of our family’s favorite TV shows became Shark Tank reruns.

Conversations between soccer games and school drop-offs quickly turned into the playground of “what do I want to be when I grow up” entrepreneurial inspirations from the screen.

Growing up in a Christian home, I never had a good answer for that age old question. But whether at college parties or church small groups, I noticed that the outsized influence of how much you were respected was inherently tied to its answer.

Through a whirlwind, cross-cultural trip during my college years, God opened my eyes to see that my work could be an act of worship. An answer to that question finally started to form. Validated and encouraged, I ran across the stage and grabbed my diploma—alive with this newfound permission slip to integrate my faith and my work.

Years later, I found myself hosting a conference for thousands of pastors and business leaders. Standing backstage, I watched as one of our speakers went rogue.

The outline of his talk was intended to be a rally point of helping see our work as worship. But instead, it became a cautionary tale…

“See your work as worship. But don’t worship work.”

While that message may have landed with everyone sitting in the seats, it missed the person standing backstage.

For the next decade, we launched a new entrepreneurial venture, and it took off, serving millions around the world. I spent much of that time traveling, talking, and being the ambassador for the team. I was often asked to tell “our story.” Oftentimes, my response would include something about 30–40% year-over-year revenue growth and the millions of people “our team” was impacting.

It was a cool story to tell.

And while God always was in the film credits as the leading actor, over time I thought too highly of my supporting role.

As wonderful as my wife and family were, I was getting 10x the praise for my work. I wasn’t grounded, and with every reciting of the story, I began to tie my identity, worth, and self-respect into what I did.

The story of our success quickly became an idol.

Like most idols, they become an addiction. The fruits of mine were pride, false humility, misplaced identity, and burnout.

By the grace of God and the faithfulness of my family, He’s helped me see the rightful place He needed in my life. Through a painful but refreshing sabbatical season, God helped start a new adventure. He’s used that previous experience to give me better insight on what it means to encourage Faith Driven Entrepreneurs to balance this tension of embracing a “call to create” while being rooted in our identity in Christ.

As entrepreneurs, it’s too easy for what we do to become intertwined with who we are. So often, the business becomes the person and vice versa.

We all want to appear like we have it all together. As entrepreneurs, we want investors, employees, and customers to know that everything is under control. We can take care of everything. We can handle whatever comes our way.

The problem with this attitude is that it often ends with us putting up a front. And trying to manipulate the way others perceive us is a slippery slope because eventually all we have are these false frames that others see with no concept of our actual selves that lie within them. We can quickly become walking shells of humans with personalities we’ve merely created for ourselves.

Here’s the truth: We can’t do it alone, and even if we could, it’s not about us anyway. God wants our honest hearts, not the facades we put up for others, or the version of ourselves we’re most proud of. But to give Him that requires humility.

That’s the call. We can be entrepreneurs that realize that our own brokenness is an outstanding opportunity to share the reason for the hope that we have—it’s a chance to lead with a limp. We understand that sharing “why” we do what we do is effective leadership when done with gentleness and respect.

When I read Matthew 25, I always looked at the Parable of the Talents through a single lens. I slid into this hijacked definition of stewardship. I thought that generosity was only defined quantitatively. It was a % in your mind or an extra zero on a check.

I think we’re selling it short.

Everyone has something to share—especially entrepreneurs and investors.

We’ve blazed trails that climb the highest heights and plunge to the lowest depths. Often alone and fighting to survive, we make it through, with little time to comprehend what we’ve learned before the next plot twist.

But pour a cup of coffee (or something a little stronger), and the life lessons come in waves with endless refills. God gives us these adventures, and He leaves us with scars. And often, it’s the authentic stories of struggle—the “why” behind the limp—that leaves us hanging on the edge.

Nothing is more repulsive than the fake polish of a story that hides the truth. Nothing is more attractive than the soothing grace of the gospel piecing together our brokenness.

Call me crazy, but I wonder if this idea of leading in our brokenness is less optional than we think. What if Matthew 25 isn’t limited to our finances, but in fact, it’s our stories of grace that we’re called to steward?

Then it’s clear that burying them isn’t an option.

We’re called to pay it forward. We’re called to actively invest our stories into others as often as we do our finances.

In turn, I’m called to share where I made success an idol—where I turned the idea of work as worship into an excuse to worship work. I get to point at my scars and say, “This is where my limp comes from.”

So, as I look back on that season, what are the cautionary signs I ran past and things I want to do moving forward?

• Pronouns Matter – The small words in front of the bigger words are under indexed for their ability to convey our heart posture. When I think back to that season, I cringe at the times of saying “my team” or “our story.” They have the opportunity for us to show what is rightfully His and not ours. I don’t want to become some Jesus Juking Ninja. But I want to discover what it means to daily reinforce this idea that I’m simply a “cook in His kitchen”—that everything we do is His, and whenever someone asks to hear “our story” that it remains rightfully His.

• Don’t Excuse Idols – I heard a friend recently talk about his addiction to trading on Robinhood. The 24/7 access of crypto markets made investing an idol, stealing moments of affection for God. At the end of the day, scripture is clear. Just because it’s a business you started … or just because it’s going to pay for your kids’ college … it doesn’t change the equation. If it’s causing you to make less of Him, you can choose to cut it off, or let him do the pruning.

• Fire Escape – Any parent audibly or mentally goes through that exercise. If the house was on fire, you have a moment to get out, taking only what matters. Oftentimes, our time on this earth or time in this venture vanishes quicker than we think. Nobody drives to work thinking that his/her life could change at the next intersection. Nobody plans for life to come to a screeching halt. But oftentimes, it does. He calls us to something new. How can I live life knowing that the mission of any venture is so much bigger than me—that I’m simply called to serve for a season?

• Servant of One Master – Money has an inordinate influence on the life of an entrepreneur. We keep score with it, report on it, and borrow it to make ideas come to life. Scripture is clear: We have to choose whom we will serve. Just because you’re generous … doesn’t mean you don’t love money. Just because you see yourself as a steward of your business … doesn’t mean you don’t love money. Being generous can become an identity. For entrepreneurs, our greatest strength is our greatest weakness. Do we really have a handle on our identity?

• Pray Out Loud Before Battle – When the Old Testament kings went to battle without God’s blessing, it was disastrous. When I think of lost battles, I strangely think I saw more of them coming than I realize. When I know I’m not coming with the right intentions, I resist that vulnerability to pray out loud before battle. I keep those thoughts in the quiet, free from the accountability of my blind spots. But I don’t have to do that—I can pray out loud and invite God and friends in to examine my blind spots.

We’re all wounded. We all have a limp.

Mine is a story of being willful—of forcing my wants to take priority over God’s—and making good things an idol.

My hope is to lead with that limp, to let the Gospel shine brighter in my weakness.

Article originally hosted and shared with permission by The Christian Economic Forum, a global network of leaders who join together to collaborate and introduce strategic ideas for the spread of God’s economic principles and the goodness of Jesus Christ. This article was from a collection of White Papers compiled for attendees of the CEF’s Global Event.

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