Tremendous Tracey

Many of my friends are in this season, too, having recently lost a parent, and I crossed paths with one just this past week. As I comforted her, I shared something someone once said to me during my season of grief. At the time, it startled me, but it eventually brought deep peace. The woman said, "When you lose both your parents, you realize you are an orphan."

But before jumping to conclusions, leaders must pause and ask: Has this follower truly turned? Or have they simply lost that loving feeling? Just like in marriage counseling, where there's been alienation of affection, sometimes the real issue isn't betrayal—it's burnout, disengagement, and disappointment that can be restored.

This Sunday marks 60 years since the founding of Life Management Services, Inc.—a company that would grow, evolve, and eventually become known around the world as Tremendous Leadership. But back in 1965, it began not as a master plan but as a moment of heartbreak, humility, and holy disruption.

In the 7 Types of Followership framework, we call this rarest of followers the Mission Magnet. They are not swayed by personal gain or recognition. They don't follow out of fear or obligation. Instead, they are drawn—magnetically—toward something far greater than themselves. Whether it's a compelling leader, a righteous cause, or a divine call, Mission Magnets live and die with one purpose: to serve the mission, whatever the cost.

Over the past two-and-a-half weeks, the assaults came fast and from every direction—family grief, friendly fire, institutional drift, and legacy threats. I have faced battles before, but never four fronts at once. Instead of frazzling, I felt the seriousness of the hour: if hell is throwing this much heat, heaven must be forging new steel in me.

As a lifelong student of leadership—and, more importantly, followership—I spend my days dissecting the complex, colorful, and sometimes combustible spectrum of follower behaviors. Most followers want to contribute, learn, and grow. Some struggle with alignment but still carry good intent.

But then there's a rare and toxic breed that carries something far more dangerous: a dark spirit wrapped in a smile.

These are the maliciously compliant followers.

And you better pray you don't have one in your organization.

As a young lieutenant in the United States Air Force, I served as an aircraft maintenance officer and later became a squadron commander. One of the first hard lessons I learned was this: jets don't fly without parts and fuel. You can have all the speed, firepower, and Top Gun swagger in the world, but Maverick and Goose are grounded without logistics.

There’s a reason the Bible remains the #1 bestselling book of all time, and Christianity is the largest faith on Earth. Yes, our founder is God incarnate—who literally conquered death through resurrection—but He also developed a core group of everyday people who carried His divine plan forward. They didn’t just witness miracles—they became messengers of them.

As Easter approaches, we are reminded of the most extraordinary act of leadership and love the world has ever known. Jesus Christ didn't just preach forgiveness—He embodied it. On the cross, He didn't demand payback. He gave His life. He nailed it—our sin, our shame, our pain—to the wood. He did it for you, for me, for all of us.

Leadership in crisis isn't about knowing the right thing to say—it's about being the right kind of person long before the crisis comes. It's about building a "bunker" of trust, truth, and training into the hearts of your people—not a shelter of fear but a system of faith.

As I left that underground hallway and stepped back into the sunlight, I didn't just feel grateful. I felt challenged. Am I building in others what the crisis will reveal?

The Ides of March is a historical marker of betrayal, a reminder that even the most powerful leaders are not immune to sabotage. At the peak of his leadership, Julius Caesar was undone by those he trusted most. But you don't have to be an emperor to experience your own Ides of March. If you're leading, at some point, the knives will come out.

DJ Daniel's embrace of Director Curran wasn't just a heartwarming moment—it was a leadership lesson. Like my father's legendary hugs, it showed us that real leadership is about making people feel seen, valued, and part of something greater than themselves.