The Way of the Warrior

by Erwin Raphael McManus

  David responded to King Saul, “Your servant has been keeping his father’s sheep.”45

  David’s understanding of himself was that he was nothing more than a servant. But listen as he describes what it means to be a faithful servant: “When a lion or a bear came and carried off a sheep from the flock, I went after it, struck it and rescued the sheep from its mouth. When it turned on me, I seized it by its hair, struck it and killed it.”46

  Now, that sounds like a warrior to me, but David seemed to be pretty sure this was just a normal part of being a servant. He explained further, “Your servant has killed both the lion and the bear; this uncircumcised Philistine will be like one of them, because he has defied the armies of the living God. The LORD who rescued me from the paw of the lion and the paw of the bear will rescue me from the hand of this Philistine.”47

  David had one posture: servanthood. Because he saw himself as a servant, he was a shepherd like no one had ever known. I feel pretty safe in suggesting that it would’ve been a rare thing for a shepherd to go after a lion or a bear just to rescue a sheep. I imagine that if most shepherds saw a lion carrying off one of their sheep, they would’ve considered it the cost of doing business. They probably would just accept the fact that they were going to lose some sheep. These were not even David’s sheep; they were his father’s. Why on earth would he risk his own life to save one sheep that wasn’t even his own property?

  David understood the way of the warrior. He understood that to serve is the highest honor and that if you are a shepherd, you must aspire to be the greatest shepherd that has ever tended sheep. So he pursued the lion and he pursued the bear, and when they turned on him, he seized them by the hair and struck them and killed them.48 David made being a shepherd look a lot like being a warrior. As a shepherd, he learned the skills that made him a warrior. David redefined what it meant to be a shepherd. Soon he would redefine what it meant to be a warrior.

  His first battle as a warrior was against a giant. Instead of taking the armor that warriors always wore, he redefined both what a warrior fights with and how a warrior fights. No one had ever gone to battle with just five smooth stones. No warrior had ever gone against a giant with nothing more than a slingshot. No warrior had left behind their armor, leaving themselves completely exposed. No warrior had chosen agility above protection.

  In the years to come, David would become known across the land as the greatest warrior of his time, yet even as a warrior, David redefined the standards of being a man of war. We need to remember that when David fought Goliath, he was still a shepherd. For him, fighting the giant was like fighting the bear or the lion. He wasn’t fighting for his own glory or his own fame; he was fighting because no one else would and because he understood what was at stake. When he killed the lion and the bear, there was no audience and no applause. God and God alone knew David’s actions and knew his heart.

  The shepherd boy courageously confronted an enemy that all the warriors feared facing. It was David the servant who redefined what it meant to be a shepherd. It was David the shepherd who redefined what it meant to be a warrior. And it was David the warrior who would redefine what it meant to be a king. David killed Goliath not for himself but to defend the honor of God and the freedom of his people. This act of heroism should have forever indebted Saul to David, but we soon discover that Saul became filled with envy over David’s growing fame.

  After a time, King Saul turned against David. The very king whom David had fought for and protected now wanted him dead. David knew that Saul had attempted to assassinate him multiple times and that he was alive simply because the king was unsuccessful. Yet when David had an opportunity to kill King Saul, when he had the support of his men if he had chosen to do so, he established a standard of honor that no one had ever expected. He declared that he would not touch God’s anointed one and that as long as Saul was king, David would not harm him. What we can see without question is that while David was still a warrior, he was already acting like a king.

  You might look at David’s life and think there were three different postures. The first, David the shepherd, then David the warrior, then David the king. But David had one role: David the servant. David the servant who served as a shepherd, David the servant who served as a warrior, David the servant who served as king. Servanthood is not a stage of life; it is a posture of the heart.

  There is one other dynamic to this process that should not be overlooked. It is not only true that the warrior is called to serve; it is also equally true that the servant must become a warrior. David was a warrior both when he was a shepherd and when he became a king. As a shepherd, he fought to protect his sheep. As a king, he fought to protect his people. The spirit of a servant is to sacrifice one’s own life for the good of those they serve.

  Still, David reminds us that there is a difference between the way of the warrior and becoming a man of war. The way of the warrior is always a posture of servanthood. Our strength was never meant to be an act of violence or aggression, yet in David we see glimpses of our most heroic selves. He saved a sheep from the mouth of a lion; he killed Goliath with the swing of a stone; he established a nation; he called the people to love God and serve him only.

  By any measure, David was a great man. And as we will discover by any measure, he was painfully flawed. This should not discourage us but rather give us hope. We are told that David was a man after God’s own heart. The heart of God is the heart of a servant. This is the heart that David struggled to have formed in himself.

  Hidden Ambition

  When I was talking to Shane, the young man from church, I immediately began to think of the surgeon who saved my life when I was fighting cancer. In more than six hours of surgery, Dr. Khalili carefully and skillfully removed each cancer cell while protecting every healthy organ, assuring me the highest quality of life after the surgery was done. I told Shane, “I have a theory. I think Dr. Khalili is very competitive. I think he hates to lose.” I don’t mean he is competitive against other surgeons; I mean he is competitive against death, against cancer, against losing a patient.

  Now, you have to understand that Dr. Khalili is a fascinating individual: kind, compassionate, thoughtful, yet stoic. He would be the perfect poker player, as you just cannot read his face. He doesn’t show you any unexpected emotions. He is very reserved and under control. This, by the way, is exactly how I want my surgeon to be.

  A part of the follow-up after beating cancer is continuing a battery of tests for up to two years until you’re given a clean bill of health. So I knew I would see Dr. Khalili again. After my next visit and hearing the good news that I was cancer free, I decided to see if he would allow me to ask him a personal question. While we were standing in the hallway right before I was about to leave, I paused and said, “Dr. Khalili, I have a question I want to ask you.”

  He very graciously responded, “What is that?”

  I said, “I was talking to this young man named Shane who was asking me if it is wrong to be competitive, and I told him about you. I told him I have a theory about you. I think that you are very competitive. In fact, I told him that I think you’re so competitive that you hate to lose and that when you lose, you have trouble sleeping at night because it bothers you so much.”

  Then I paused to see what kind of response my thought solicited. At first there was nothing; he just looked at me with those very calm and stoic eyes, and for a second I thought I might be completely wrong. Then I saw it. The muscles on his face gave way to a deeper emotion. He began to smile—not just with his mouth but also with his eyes, almost as if he had reverted to being ten years old and had been found out about a secret he had kept so well. He responded, “I am so competitive. I am so competitive and I hate to lose.”

  It was a beautiful moment. I looked at him and I said, “Thank you for being competitive. Thank you for fighting against cancer. Thank you for refusing
to lose me.” I can’t even imagine having a surgeon who wasn’t competitive, who was okay with losing more patients than they saved. I certainly would never want a surgeon who was not driven to pursue greatness. Whoever holds the tools that cut into my body needs to have embraced the disciplines of deliberate practice and personal sacrifice.

  Greatness is never found; it is gained. Greatness never comes easy; it’s always the outcome of great discipline and hard work. If you’re comfortable with where you are, if you’re complacent, you will never discover the greatness that lies within. Complacency is like pouring water on coals. It is so important not to misunderstand the words of Jesus. Remember, he never said, “Don’t be great.” In fact, his invitation was for only those who aspire to greatness: “Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant.”49 You will never know the power of servanthood until you know the fire of greatness.

  Let no one tell you that ambition is not a virtue. Yes, Paul says, “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others.”50 But this is the key: it’s in humility that we place others above ourselves. This must be our ambition.

  The truth is, few of us see ambition as a virtue. We quietly think it’s okay to be ambitious, but not too ambitious—too much ambition will corrupt us. But we never think that way about love. We never think, Be careful not to love too much; you need to hold on to a little bit of hate. We never think about forgiveness, Be careful to not forgive too much; you need to hold on to a little bitterness. Or about integrity, Be careful not to have too much integrity; you need to keep a little bit of corruption. But we understand virtues like love and forgiveness and integrity to be of such intrinsic value that one can’t possibly pursue them too much.

  The warrior understands that ambition is a virtue equal to compassion or kindness or even humility. We are to do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but without ambition, we will find ourselves doing nothing and calling it humility. What we must do is bring the two universes of ambition and humility together since they were never intended to exist separately. We have a universe of thought around the concept of servanthood. When we think of servanthood, we attach words such as humility, compassion, sacrifice, and selflessness. These are the qualities by which we most readily understand Jesus to be defined.

  The other universe consists of words related to ego and arrogance, and attached to that narrative are words such as pride, selfishness, ambition, competition, and even greatness. These, of course, would be understood as being contrary to the way of Jesus. The warrior understands these worlds must be brought together. Ambition, competition, and greatness can, and in fact must, exist in the same universe as humility, selflessness, and servanthood. Greatness cannot be achieved without sacrifice, and true servanthood is not the outcome of subservience but of passion.

  You can choose both humility and ambition.

  You can choose both competitiveness and selflessness.

  You can choose both greatness and servanthood.

  The truth that Jesus is trying to drive us to is that when these are brought together, we see ourselves best and most fully. In Buddhism, the ultimate end is the elimination of all desire. In the way of Jesus, our highest expression of being human is a life consumed with passion.

  Play to Win

  Even after all these years, I still love playing basketball. I played once with men my age, and I don’t think I’ll ever do it again. They were so old, so fragile, so slow. It was disturbing to realize they were my peers. I love playing against young men. It keeps me young, and most days, I have the pleasure of winning more than I lose. But on one particular day, I lost every single game. We had an odd number of players, and that meant that when I lost I had to sit. So I was doing a lot of losing and sitting that day. After about an hour of repeated and relentless humiliation, I went and sat down in a hallway to gather my thoughts and ask God why he was no longer with me.

  A short time went by, when my son, Aaron, walked down this hallway, and as he passed me he said, “Pouting?” That did not sit well in my soul. When he came back the other way after going to the locker room, he said, “Still sitting here? Looks like you’re pouting.” I love my son, but he was really irritating in that moment.

  I responded, “I’m not pouting. I’m just gathering my thoughts, getting myself ready to play again.”

  As he walked back on the court, since he had won again, he shouted back, “Still looks like you’re pouting.” So I got up, walked to the other court, grabbed a basketball, and began shooting to try to regain my stroke. As I stood there shooting by myself, I was totally unaware how much time had passed. The game on the other side of the court had ended, and my son walked over and said, “Hey, are you okay?”

  I said, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  “It doesn’t seem like you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine, Aaron. Stop asking me.”

  He said, “Well, Dad, it’s your game, and you don’t seem okay.”

  I said, “Son, I know I have hidden this well all your life, but I am really competitive, and I hate to lose.” I’ll never forget that moment. I was being so transparent. I was allowing my son to see the darkness of my own soul.

  And he responded without hesitation, “Dad, you never hid it well. Everyone knows you’re competitive, and everyone knows you hate to lose.”

  Then the thought hit me: I’d spent nearly sixty years trying to hide how competitive I was, and it didn’t work anyway, so why didn’t I just own it? I am competitive. I want to be the best. I want to pursue excellence every day of my life. I want to pay the price that greatness demands of me. I couldn’t care less about fame, but I will live my life for greatness, and Jesus tells me how: by being the servant of all. This is the way of the warrior. The warrior is a servant, and that is their greatness.

  So how will this play out in your own life? What is your field of play? Where have you been called to serve and aspire to greatness?

  My journey as a communicator began among the urban poor. Every week I would preach to small crowds, whether at the homeless shelter during the week or in the small house we would turn into a church every Sunday morning. The room was full of the poorest of the poor. Each seat was filled by former drug addicts or prostitutes or those struggling with an endless number of addictions. And when I say full, there were never more than forty or fifty people crammed into that house that we called church.

  I remember praying even then, “God, these people never have the best of anything. Could you help me give them the very best on Sundays?” I aspired to be a great communicator not because I ever imagined myself preaching to large crowds or dared to believe anyone would ever read a book with my name on it, but because I just felt that those people deserved the best, and that drove me to aspire to be the best.

  I don’t know what your calling is. You may be a teacher or an architect or a doctor or a carpenter. But if you choose the way of the warrior, living a life of service, it will demand of you the best you have. You may not need to be great, but the world needs your greatness. Whatever God has placed within you that could ever be described as great was never meant for you, anyway. It’s a stewardship that has been given to you. Greatness never belongs to the one who carries it; it belongs to the world that needs it.

  Just think how your life would look if you decided greatness was your standard of your life as a parent, as a spouse, or as an employer or employee. For too long we have allowed apathy to masquerade itself as humility. There is nothing humble about living apathetic lives. In the same way, we cannot live lives of passion without unlocking our greatness.

  Passion is the fuel of greatness, and love is the fuel of passion. When we love someone or something, we give them all of us. This is the elegant interconnection between servanthood an
d greatness. It is love that drives us to serve and love that drives us to greatness. This is why the two cannot be mutually exclusive. In the end, the one who serves is the one who is great, as they are the one who loves most profoundly.

  CODE 4

  The Warrior Frees Their Mind

  The warrior cannot know their enemy if they do not know themselves. For the thousands of battles a warrior will face, their greatest battle comes when they truly see themselves. There is no territory more critical or difficult for you to take than that of your inner world. Your mind is also your minefield. To find the freedom to win your ultimate battle, you must fight to free your mind. Every battle that you will ever face in the outside world must first be won in your inner world.

  This is why the warrior understands that they must know themselves, that they must know their mind. Though you may never live in a world defined by peace and beauty, the warrior has already come to know this world. You will never find a world that you cannot see. You cannot create a world that you do not know. You can bring to the world only what you have already fought for.

  Your mind tells you what you will find. If your mind is set, you have limited what you will discover. If your mind is free, the possibilities are limitless. An open mind allows you to see opportunities that remain closed to those with limited thinking. An open mind opens the world to you. An open mind opens the future for you. It is only with an open mind that you are truly free to dream, to imagine, to create.

  The mind is not separate from the heart. They are intertwined and inseparable. Two plus two equals four is only a concept until we have experienced it. Once we understand addition and then multiplication, we begin to see the power of limitless possibilities. Soon we experience that four minus two equals two. We begin to understand the power and even the pain of loss. We begin to know what it means to have and then to lose. Even simple math is wrapped in human experience.