March 23, 2026
Servant leadership isn't a management buzzword. It's a way of life that Jesus modeled — and demanded — at one of the most charged moments in history. At his final meal with his closest friends, when everything was about to fall apart, the conversation around the table turned to a question that still lives in most of us: who's the best?
That moment is both embarrassing and completely familiar. The disciples had walked with Jesus, watched him perform miracles, seen him raise the dead — and still they were measuring themselves against each other. Still jockeying. Still needing to know where they ranked.
It's easy to shake your head at them. It's harder to admit we're doing the same thing. The metrics are just different now. It's the job title, the school district, the team your kid made, the LinkedIn headline, the neighborhood you can afford. In Loudoun County, where everyone around you seems to be accomplishing something impressive, the quiet internal scoreboard never quite goes off.
Jesus didn't shame his friends for keeping score. He just told them the game they were playing was the wrong one entirely — and then he got down on his knees and washed their feet to prove it.
In Luke 22, the disciples are mid-argument about who among them is the greatest when Jesus breaks in with something they were not expecting. He says, in essence: the way power works out there is not how it works here. Kings lord over people and get called great men. Among you, it will be different. The greatest will take the lowest rank. The leader will be like a servant.
Then he poses a question that sounds like a throwaway but lands like a stone: Who is more important — the one sitting at the table, or the one who serves? Everyone knows the answer. And then Jesus says: not here. For I am among you as one who serves.
For people who believed Jesus was about to become king — who were imagining throne rooms and the overthrow of Rome — this was not the answer they were looking for. They were picturing a hierarchy, and Jesus was describing a posture.
This is worth sitting with before we rush past it. Servant leadership, in Jesus's framework, is not a personality type or a leadership style. It is a total reorientation of what you're living for. It means asking, every day, in the ordinary moments: how may I serve, how may I love? — and meaning it as a first instinct rather than a last resort.
That kind of reorientation is genuinely hard, especially in a culture that is saturated with the opposite message. Every news cycle, every algorithm, every ambient pressure of life in Northern Virginia tells us to amass more, secure more, protect our position. The language of winning and losing, power and enemies, is everywhere. It is almost impossible not to absorb it.
If you've ever found yourself measuring your worth against the people around you — their incomes, their marriages, their kids' highlight reels — you are not broken. You are swimming in the same stream everyone else is. The question is whether you want to be carried by it or whether you want to find another way to move.
One honest step: this week, pay attention to the moments when you catch yourself sizing up the competition. Name it without judgment. That noticing is where it starts.
If you want to understand what Terraforma actually believes about greatness, love, and what it means to follow Jesus, read more here.
Here's what the sermon didn't flinch from saying: a life of genuine service will cost you something, and the thing it will cost you most is your time.
Associate Pastor Heather Henderson put it plainly — and personally. She described the reality of a weekend in her own life: two cities, a soccer tournament, a niece at the airport, a husband running logistics, groceries to get, meals to make, conversations to squeeze in with people she loves. Zero margin. Sound familiar?
That's the reality of Ashburn in 2026. The calendar isn't full of bad things. It's full of good things — practices and games and appointments and career-building and parenting and aging parents and everything else. And good things, stacked too high, can still crowd out the kind of presence that servant leadership requires.
What Heather described isn't a guilt trip — it's an honest reckoning. A life oriented around serving others doesn't mean doing more. It might actually mean doing less. It means becoming interruptible. It means leaving blank space. It means listening instead of steering the conversation toward yourself, admitting when you were wrong, letting your home be a place of actual warmth rather than a retreat from the world.
One image from the sermon stays: Heather’s son Owen, after spending several days at a foster home in Mexico, said simply, "I feel like everyone looks out for each other more here." That's it. That's the whole thing. A kid put the sermon into one sentence.
The first letter of Peter says it plainly: love each other deeply, offer hospitality without grumbling, use whatever gift you've received to serve others. Not as a checklist. As a way of being.
And here's the unexpected part — the thing that actually sounds too good to be true but holds up: Jesus says this orientation ends up being good for you. When you're not constantly calculating your own position, something opens up. Heather described it as the Grinch's heart growing. Serving others is meant to be a gift that moves in both directions.
One honest step: think of one person this week who could use a text, a call, or a meal — and send the message before you talk yourself out of it.
Take one step toward serving your neighbors in Brambleton and beyond, find it here.
Servant leadership isn't just a personal posture — it changes the way a community functions. And the third movement of this sermon turned toward what that looks like in an actual church, in an actual neighborhood, with actual people who are tired and busy and sometimes barely making it.
Heather Henderson named it directly: right now, Terraforma has two people who can regularly lead worship. There are Sundays when kids ministry coordinator Brittany Harris isn't sure she has enough covered to pull it off. Most Sundays, the entire setup — trailers driven from storage, cages unloaded, three environments built, a stage assembled, a lobby created from nothing — happens with fewer than five people. Last Sunday, two.
She named Mike Limley specifically, who shows up every single Sunday and does it cheerfully. She told the story of Mike and Casey Jones, who resisted leading a small group for months — real reasons, real busyness — and then finally said yes, and watched people reconnect with each other and with God in their living room. That's what this looks like when it moves from concept to practice.
The early church in Acts described it this way: they devoted themselves to each other, had everything in common, met in homes, ate together with genuine warmth, and the Lord added to their number daily. Henderson said something honest about that: in our world, followers of Jesus don't usually enjoy the favor of all the people. But they could. That's the invitation.
One honest step: if you've been meaning to find a way to plug in — at church, in your neighborhood, through a community organization — don't let the friction stop you. The friction is real, but it's not the whole story.
The World's Metrics vs. Jesus's Metrics of Greatness
The world's measure: Rank, credentials, and the number of letters after your name determine your worth.
Jesus's measure: Willingness to take the lowest rank — even when you've earned the highest one.
The world's measure: Your value is visible in your numbers: followers, accolades, and how many people you brought to your side.
Jesus's measure: Attention paid to the people directly in front of you, not the audience watching from a distance.
The world's measure: A full calendar signals importance — you are busy because you matter.
Jesus's measure: Margin to be interruptible, because the person in front of you is the point.
The world's measure: Winning the argument, securing the position, holding on to what you've built.
Jesus's measure: Choosing to serve rather than be served — and admitting when you were wrong.
Practical ways to begin reorienting your life around service this week:
Ashburn and the Brambleton corridor are remarkable places — full of driven, talented, generous people who moved here for opportunity and built something real. But the same engine that makes this area work can quietly hollow you out if the only question you're answering is how do I get ahead? Terraforma Church gathers on Sunday mornings at Brambleton Middle School — no dress code, no performance required, nobody expecting you to have it figured out. And on fifth Sundays, the whole church stops meeting and deploys into the community through Scatter & Serve, partnering with local organizations to show up as neighbors in the most practical sense of the word. If you've been curious about what a faith community in Ashburn might actually look like — one that takes servant leadership seriously enough to live it on a Tuesday — this might be worth a look.
A life well-lived is a life well-served. It's not an original idea — it's the oldest one. Jesus said it at the Last Supper, demonstrated it by washing feet, and carried it all the way through the end of his life. And if he's our example, then servant leadership isn't a nice quality to aspire to — it's a complete reorientation of what we're measuring, what we're building, and who we're building it for.
That doesn't happen overnight. It didn't for the disciples, who needed multiple corrections before it finally clicked. It just starts with wanting it — wanting to be the kind of person whose value is measured by love rather than leverage.
If any of this landed and you're curious about what it looks like in community, we'd genuinely love to have you. Plan a visit to see what a Sunday morning at Terraforma is like — come as you are, stay as long as you want. Or if you're not quite there yet, feel free to reach out and start the conversation at your own pace.
Q: What does servant leadership mean according to Jesus?
A: In Luke 22, Jesus told his disciples that in his kingdom, the greatest person is the one who takes the lowest rank — not the one with the most power or prestige. He demonstrated this by washing his followers' feet at the Last Supper, modeling a life where service to others is the primary measure of a life well-lived.
Q: Why is serving others important for Christians?
A: Jesus made serving others the defining mark of his kingdom. The New Testament describes the early church as a community that shared everything, met in homes, and cared for each other practically — and as a result, they grew and thrived. Serving others is both a spiritual discipline and a way of becoming more like Jesus.
Q: How do I find time to serve when I'm so busy?
A: The sermon was honest about this: a life of service may actually require doing fewer things so you can be more present in the ones that matter. It means leaving margin, being interruptible, and starting small — a text to someone who's struggling, a meal for a neighbor, showing up once for something you care about. You don't need a completely cleared calendar to begin.
Q: How can I get involved in serving at my church?
A: At Terraforma Church in Ashburn, VA, you can find volunteer opportunities directly through the Terraforma app — tap "Join the Team" on the front page to see current needs across kids ministry, worship, setup and production, and community service through Scatter & Serve. You can also connect with the church directly through the contact page.
Q: What does it mean to live a life of service?
A: It's not a one-time act or a donation or a social media post. It's a total reorientation of what you're living for — letting love and service become the metrics you use to evaluate a day, a week, a year. It means making yourself available, paying attention to the people around you, and letting your home and your time become resources for others, not just yourself.
