Even the corporate world recognizes that people have an ego problem. The growing field of “transpersonal leadership” instructs leaders in how to transcend the fragile self. In her recent book, Annabel Beerel says leaders need an enlarged sense of their identity that “enables them to rise above the day-to-day reactive and often fear-based needs of the ego to a place where they can experience and act from a higher self  . . . and thus lead with greater insight and wisdom by not being held hostage to the ego’s needs and defenses.” To this I say, “Amen.” But easier said than done. A pastor leading a church in desperate need of revitalization might well react in fear when the congregation’s pillar families threaten his livelihood. An active youth-group member might understandably hide her light under the bushel of self-censoring silence when she hears her classmates mocking  “superstitious faith” and “regressive morals.” The volunteer who just folded all the chairs, vacuumed the fellowship hall, and set up activities for the weekly kids’ program without anyone seeing, noticing, or thanking him—again—might understandably feel like the activity without the accolade isn’t worth it. It won’t be enough to white-knuckle the ego into submission like a wrestler pinning his opponent. We need to have our desires for peace, love, and purpose met. We need to fortify our gospel identity, besieged as it is by circumstance and public opinion, if we’re going to overcome the ego’s onslaught—or, as Jesus put it, to deny ourselves take up our cross, and follow him (Mark 8:34). To transcend the self, we must follow Jesus in serving like we know who we are. Jesus’s Model The night before his unjust execution, Jesus gathered his disciples, including Judas, the paradigmatic example of a man putting ego above all. Jesus didn’t intend to enrich or ennoble him, so Judas made plans to get his. He betrayed his Master and Friend for a bagful of fleeting happiness. We need to fortify our gospel identity, besieged as it is by circumstance and public opinion, if we’re going to overcome the ego’s onslaught. Jesus knew this. Still, he washed Judas’s filthy, undeserving feet. When no other disciple would humble himself to do a slave’s menial task, Jesus knelt and served. Behold the man unfettered by ego’s grasping tentacles. The beloved disciple, pondering his Lord’s gracious condescension, discloses what freed our King to serve with reckless, loving abandon. Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God, rose from supper. He laid aside his outer garments and, taking a towel, tied it around his waist (John 13:3–4). Because Jesus knew who he was and what his Father would do, he cast aside ego with his cloak and donned self-sacrifice like a servant’s towel. Calvin insists John added these details “to tell us the source of Christ’s quiet, composed thinking. . . . Men in the grip of fear are usually most upset,” but “Christ experienced no such agitation” because he knew the Father’s will and work. And so do we. Our Motivation We know who the Father is and what he’s done for us in Christ. Have we any less reason for confidence in God, any less motivation to deny self and delight in service? Hasn’t God put all things into our hands too—for all things are ours because we’re Christ’s, and Christ is God’s (1 Cor. 3:21–23)? We know how the story ends: We’ll be raised to eternal life in the forever kingdom of God’s favorite Son. God has given us the victory through Jesus, which means we know our labor in the Lord is never in vain (15:58). When no one else notices, our unseen Father sees what’s done in secret and promises to reward what’s done in his Name and for his sake (Matt. 6:4). Think what that means for how we live—how this knowledge can and should motivate us to Christlike service. Instead of looking out for number one, we can put the voracious ego a distant third behind our love for God and neighbor. Bound for glory, we can embrace the bonds of constraining love, like Jesus picking up the servant’s towel and the slave’s very nature (Phil. 2:7). When we remember the depths of Christ’s love for us, the lengths he traveled along the whole dusty road to Golgotha’s wicked, wonderful hill, our parched ego at last slakes its thirst. When Christ’s Spirit fills our hearts to overflowing with the Father’s inestimable love (Rom. 5:5), we rest fully and finally content. Transpersonal leadership indeed. A mid-level manager in the grip of grace spotlights her team’s contributions, letting those under her authority receive due credit. Because she knows she has her Father’s unwavering approval, she doesn’t need to impress her boss. An elder graciously overlooks unjust insults about his ministry decisions. He repays evil with blessing, because he knows he can entrust himself to his Father who judges justly (1 Pet. 2:23). Because Jesus knew who he was and what his Father would do, he cast aside ego with his cloak and donned self-sacrifice like a servant’s towel. A homeschooling mother of four serves her family day after day—preparing meals, instructing occasionally uninterested students, cultivating a nurturing home environment—even when the tasks prove thankless. Because she knows that God gives grace to the humble, she can imitate her Savior and make herself next to nothing before the God who, in the end, exalts the lowly. God’s got the whole ego in his hands, so we can rise above its selfish wants and fragile feelings. Like Jesus, we can love and lead, stoop and serve, because we know who our Father is and what the Son has done for us. We can serve like we know who we are.