Emptied of All but Love: Holiness and Kenotic Leadership in an Age of Power
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Few hymns capture the heart of Wesleyan theology more beautifully than Charles Wesley’s “And Can It Be?” At Asbury Theological Seminary, the hymn is often affectionately called the unofficial school anthem. As someone who grew up in a Baptist context with strong Arminian instincts, attended a Baptist seminary, and served in Baptist and evangelical churches of various stripes, I eventually found a theological home within the broader Wesleyan family. Singing this hymn still feels like hearing several parts of my theological journey come together at once. One stanza in particular illuminates the theological vision that stands at the center of both Wesleyan holiness and Christian leadership:
He left His Father’s throne above,
So free, so infinite His grace;
Emptied Himself of all but love,
And bled for Adam’s helpless race.
“Emptied Himself of all but love.” The Greek term behind that language is kenosis, drawn especially from Philippians 2:5-11, where Paul describes Christ as the one who “emptied himself” and took the form of a servant.
In an ecclesial landscape shaped by celebrity culture, institutional anxiety, platform-building, and power consolidation, Paul’s vision of Christ’s self-emptying love confronts the church with a radically different imagination of leadership. Rather than embracing dominance, self-promotion, or hierarchy, it calls Christian leaders toward humility, sacrifice, and service as central expressions of holiness. Leadership, in this framework, is not primarily about visibility, influence, or control. It is about becoming the kind of person through whom the grace of God flows for the flourishing of others.
Many churches and Christian institutions have unconsciously absorbed leadership assumptions shaped more by public influence and cultural expectations than by the life of Christ. When leadership becomes centered on power, visibility, or personal influence, the church risks embracing patterns foreign to the gospel itself. The kenotic vision of Philippians 2 stands as a direct challenge to these instincts, calling the church back to leadership marked by humility, sacrifice, and self-giving love.
The Wesleyan tradition offers a particularly rich theological framework for recovering this vision of leadership because holiness, in Wesleyan theology, is fundamentally relational. For John Wesley, holiness was never merely private morality or inward spirituality. It was love expressed outwardly through humility, self-denial, service, and communal transformation. As Deanna Hayden observes, “laying down one’s life, self-emptying, self-denial, and the taking up of one’s cross…as well as related terms such as resignation and surrender” are closely tied to Wesley’s understanding of love (A Wesleyan Theology of Spiritual Leadership, 2023, pp. 75-76).
Wesleyan holiness, when authentically led by the Spirit, produces kenotic leadership. Leaders shaped by holiness grow in love, humility, and self-giving service. Rather than turning inward toward self-preservation, they become people who foster spiritual maturity and communal flourishing in others.
Building on this Pauline vision, a Christ-shaped understanding of leadership cannot be rooted in domination, control, or self-preservation. It reflects the posture of Christ himself, who willingly relinquished his own advantage and took “the form of a servant” (Phil. 2:7). Henri Nouwen captures the movement well, describing Christian leadership as “the downward mobility ending on the cross” (In the Name of Jesus, 1989, p. 81). Rather than seeking coercive power, leaders formed by Christ learn to embrace humility, dependence, and self-giving love.
Self-emptying, in this sense, is not passive resignation or weakness. It is an active attentiveness to others rooted in humility and sustained by love. Communities formed in the pattern of Christ resist domination, the pursuit of status, and hierarchy, becoming places where humility, service, and mutual submission are not only normative, but expected.
This is precisely where Wesleyan holiness deepens the conversation. For Wesley, holiness could never be separated from self-denial because holiness itself was fundamentally relational love. Hayden writes that “self-denial is a practical description of the daily willingness to lay down one’s life, which is the way Wesley articulated a life of love” (101). Wesleyan holiness, at its best, does not produce leaders obsessed with influence, visibility, or reputation management. It produces leaders increasingly freed from the need to justify or secure themselves.
Practices such as prayer, confession, accountability, acts of mercy, and the ordinary means of grace cultivate this kind of self-denial. Leaders must continually examine whether their pursuit of effectiveness has eclipsed their commitment to love. I have learned this lesson personally. At times I have devoted more energy to planning, strategy, and organizational outcomes than to the people entrusted to my care. When effectiveness becomes detached from love, Christian leadership begins to lose its way.
The deepest leadership crisis in the contemporary church may not simply be methodological failure, but spiritual deformation. Many leadership failures stem not merely from theological error or poor strategy, but from unresolved insecurity, emotional immaturity, and the need for validation. Unformed leaders often construct ministry around image-management, defensiveness, or the preservation of influence rather than love and trust in God. Left unaddressed, these instincts can produce leaders who become reactive, performative, and resistant to correction.
If this diagnosis is correct, then theological education cannot simply be the transfer of information or ministry skills. Seminaries do not exist merely to produce competent preachers, effective administrators, or strategic leaders. We are helping to form people whose lives will eventually shape churches, institutions, and communities.
In my own work in student life and formation, I have become convinced that the church’s greatest leadership needs are not primarily methodological but formational. I have watched gifted students and ministry leaders wrestle with pressures that no amount of theological information alone can resolve: insecurity, isolation, exhaustion, and the temptation to build identity around performance rather than belonging in Christ. These struggles rarely remain private realities. Over time, they often begin shaping the ways leaders relate, decide, and lead.
Unformed leaders do not simply struggle themselves; they reproduce insecurities, fears, ambitions, and wounds in the communities they lead. Leaders driven by insecurity often create cultures where criticism is feared and avoided. Ambition can turn ministry into a vehicle for personal advancement rather than Christlike service. Unresolved wounds frequently produce defensiveness, controlling behavior, or resistance to accountability.
Churches can survive imperfect strategies and weak organizational structures, but communities often struggle to recover from leaders whose character has not matured alongside their gifts.
Competence without Christlikeness has never been enough. The church does not simply need more educated leaders; it needs more cruciform leaders.
Christ-shaped maturity does not happen by accident. Robert Mulholland defines spiritual formation as “a process of being conformed to the image of Christ for the sake of others” (Invitation to a Journey, 2016, p. 12). Christian formation is not merely inward improvement; it is transformation directed outward in holy love toward others. As leaders become rooted more deeply in their identity in Christ, they are freed from the anxieties of the false self and liberated to serve others without concern for status, recognition, or ego-driven security.
Such leadership requires vulnerability and receptivity, expressed through deep listening, humility, and the willingness to learn from others rather than exercising positional authority over them. The leader becomes less an enforcer of authority and more a facilitator of wisdom, participation, and growth.
Resisting the impulse to consolidate power creates space for the gifts, discernment, and participation of others. Authority expressed in the pattern of Christ is not rooted in domination but in self-giving love. Leadership, in this vision, is not about securing personal influence or institutional loyalty. It is about helping others flourish spiritually and vocationally within the life of the body of Christ. Leaders eventually reproduce in their communities the patterns taking shape within their own lives.
I saw this modeled by one of my mentors, Greg Waybright. As senior pastor of Lake Avenue Church in Pasadena, California, Greg regularly gathered a sermon preparation team that included younger staff members and others with unique perspectives. Though he often entered the room with a clear vision for the sermon, he listened carefully to suggestions and critiques and often changed course because of what he heard. He consistently acknowledged those contributions publicly, giving credit to those whose insights strengthened the message. Over time, he cultivated a culture of participation, trust, and shared discernment. Many members of that team have reproduced those same patterns in the churches and ministries they now serve.
Likewise, Christian organizations must resist structural patterns where efficiency and institutional preservation eclipse the biblical call to holy love. Hierarchical and personality-driven leadership models tend to suppress the very things Christian community needs most: creativity, communal discernment, and relational health. When leadership becomes dominated by rigid control, the church risks losing its identity as a Spirit-shaped community and functioning more like an institution than a body to be shepherded. Kenotic leadership resists that drift by cultivating trust, mutuality, and attentiveness to the Spirit across the whole community.
This ongoing work of formation is precisely why Wesley exhorted believers in A Plain Account of Christian Perfection to “be clothed with humility,” allowing the mind of Christ to shape both the heart and the whole manner of life (1777, sec. 25, q. 33). For Wesley, humility was not a personality trait or leadership strategy, but the visible fruit of a life steadily conformed to Christ. Holiness, in this vision, is not self-exaltation disguised as spirituality, but Christlike love expressed through service, gentleness, and self-denial.
That vision feels especially urgent in a polarized age. Church leaders today face immense pressure to become ideological combatants or culture-war strategists. In an attention economy shaped by social media performance, outrage often generates more influence than wisdom, and certainty is often rewarded more quickly than humility. Pastors and ministry leaders can easily become brands to promote and defend rather than shepherds who patiently guide people toward Christlikeness.
In a culture so heavily shaped by reaction, suspicion, and self-protection, kenotic leadership calls the church back to communal discernment and cruciform love. James 1:19 may be one of the most overlooked leadership texts in the New Testament: “Let every person be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger.” In this light, leadership is not about winning arguments but trusting the Spirit to shepherd people toward maturity and unity in Christ.
Leadership shaped by patience, humility, and attentiveness to the Spirit inevitably reshapes how success itself is understood. Churches are often tempted to measure health through attendance, visibility, efficiency, or financial growth, but the kingdom of God measures differently. Faithfulness, holiness, transformation, submission to the Spirit, and love are the true metrics of Christian leadership.
Charles Wesley gave us more than a hymn. He gave us a leadership manifesto. In an age shaped by power, performance, and self-promotion, the church desperately needs leaders willing to follow the same downward way: emptied of all but love. Only then will our leadership begin to reflect the crucified and risen Christ, who still calls His church to holiness through self-emptying love.
J. Matthew Barnes is Vice President of Student Life and Formation at Asbury Theological Seminary in Wilmore, Kentucky and an elder in the Global Methodist Church.