“But he said to them, ‘The kings of the Gentiles lord it over them, and those who have authority over them have themselves called “Benefactors.” It is not to be like that among you. On the contrary, whoever is greatest among you should become like the youngest, and whoever leads, like the one serving.'” (CSB – Read the chapter)

I almost never just watch a movie or TV show anymore. I am constantly on alert for where the Gospel is on display in it. Sometimes I wish I didn’t do that all the time, but I can’t turn it off very well. Fear not, though. This doesn’t mean I never really enjoy anything I watch. I still enjoy much of it immensely. In fact, I would even argue that I enjoy it just a little bit more than I would without having my Gospel radar up because I see things in the story that add worth and meaning to the story I might otherwise miss. A case in point is the movie Ford vs. Ferrari that I finally got to watch this past week. I’ve been looking forward to seeing it for a long time, and I was not disappointed. Let me tell you why.

I’ve never been the biggest fan of auto racing, but I love a good movie about it. Days of Thunder was terrific. F1 was outstanding. Cars and Cars 2 were watched in my house so many times, I can quote most of the movie along with the cast. From the first time I saw the preview, Ford vs. Ferrari looked like it was going to be able to go on that list.

The movie, set in the 1960s, is ostensibly about the Ford Motor Company’s successful attempt to build a car that could not only compete with but win the Le Mans 24-hour race, one of the most famous races in the world, that had up to that point been utterly dominated by Ferrari. What the movie is really about, though, is the battle of wills between Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon) and Leo Beebe (Josh Lucas). The latter is a company man who doesn’t know a whole lot about racing but wants all the glory associated with winning and won’t relinquish control to the folks who do know about it. The former is one of the most brilliant sports car designers in history who was solely focused on creating a car that could actually win.

At the center of the story is Ken Miles (Christian Bale), the man Shelby knew needed to be driving his car if they were going to win. Miles was a brilliant engineer who was integral in the process of designing Ford’s GT40, easily their most enduringly classic vehicle. He was an even better driver. But he had a pretty temperamental personality and had made a lot of enemies and alienated a lot of folks who would have otherwise been helpful in getting him where he wanted to go, most notably Leo Beebe.

Beebe hated Miles and was dead set on building a winning car without him behind the wheel. Shelby, meanwhile, knew that without Miles, they weren’t going to win. Perhaps Beebe wasn’t quite a sycophantic and conniving in reality as Lucas’ portrayal of him is, but man did I hate his guts by the end of the movie (long before that, actually). He used a combination of force and flattery to do everything he could to keep Ken out of the driver’s seat, and even when Shelby succeeded in getting him there anyway, he did everything he could to undermine and otherwise steal the thunder from any success he experienced.

The climax of these efforts came when Miles was running away with victory at Le Mans. Beebe, taking a page out of King Darius’ advisors who were out to get Daniel, used a bit of flattery to convince Henry Ford II, the current CEO of the company, that it would be a great photo opportunity if all three Fords that were running in positions 1, 2, and 3 crossed the finish line at the same time. Doing this, though, was going to require Miles to actually slow down as he was several minutes ahead of the other drivers. It was an obvious attempt to steal Miles’ glory, but Ford, like Darius before him, was too stuck on his own self-importance to see through the plot.

In the end, Miles did what he was asked, the driver’s crossed the finish line at the same time, but instead of giving him the victory he had earned, the race judges awarded the first-place honors to the second-place driver on a mere technicality. Everyone involved in the decision should have been ashamed of themselves, but the rules were apparently the rules.

What so caught my attention was that the decision to participate in the photo-op for Ford was Miles’ to make. Shelby told him about the directive from the top before he got in the car to finish the race (there were two drivers who swapped out every four hours). Miles immediately recognized the request for what it was. Shelby didn’t want anything to do with it, but Beebe had corporate pressure very much on his side. Shelby told Miles that the decision was his. He was going to be behind the wheel, and what he did from there was up to him. For all the sound and fury the Ford executives might have been able to generate from the stands, Miles was in the driver’s seat both literally and figuratively.

To perhaps put that another way, no matter what all the other players in the plot imagined, Miles was the leader. And as he got in the car and took off with Shelby’s admonition that it was his car ringing in his ears, he headed out fast. Really fast. He wound up making the best lap of the entire race, breaking the record he had set early in the day. He was free to do as he pleased, to set things just as he wanted them, to take all the glory for himself.

But then something changed. And the way the director framed was absolutely perfect. He started thinking about everyone else, about the whole team he was a part of. He was driving the car, yes, but there was a small army who had been involved in making that possible. More than that, Miles began to think about his son and the example he was setting for him. And he slowed down to allow the other Fords to catch up.

This scene in particular was brilliantly filmed. The setting shifted back and forth several times between Miles behind the wheel and his wife and son watching on TV at home. His son immediately noticed when he slowed down and asked his mom what his dad was doing. She looked confused for a moment, and then she realized what he was doing. You could see the pride begin to swell in her eyes and she loved her husband even more than she already did. She quickly told her son that it was all okay and to watch. He was taking a servant’s posture in his leadership. He was sharing the glory, acting like he was the junior driver rather than the exceedingly talented driver who had succeeded in doing for Ford what no other driver had been able to do.

Luke tells us that during the Last Supper, after Jesus shared with the disciples that the one who would betray Him was seated at the table with them, they began to argue over who was the most dedicated of the group. They began to argue over who was the greatest disciple among them. It was a pretty sad display, but it was also a display that was pretty consistent with how the world thinks about posturing and leadership within a group.

Jesus told them that “the kings of the Gentiles lord it over them, and those who have authority over them have themselves called ‘Benefactors.'” This wasn’t hard for them to picture because they had seen it. We still see it today. You’ve probably seen it or even experienced it personally. That’s just how leadership in the world works. Jesus wasn’t telling them anything they didn’t already know.

But that’s not how His kingdom was to run. His kingdom flipped so many of the values of the world over on their head, and this one was no exception. Those with authority would use their authority not to advance their own interests, but the interests of the people around them. The greatest in the kingdom would be servants. Those who were the highest would make themselves the lowest. Leaders would lead by serving, not by demanding or demeaning.

Creating communities in which this kind of leadership is the model stand out from those where it is not. They are marked by humility and kindness and compassion and charity in abundance. They are warm and encouraging. They develop people, especially leaders. Because all leaders serve, and because anyone can serve, anyone can lead as God calls and directs them.

Miles could have taken all the credit and glory for himself. After all, the whole reason he was in this position was because of a jealous, petty executive who didn’t know what he was talking about, who was leading in exactly the way Jesus told us not to lead. He could have stood to spend some time reflecting on this very passage. But instead, he shared the glory. He led by serving. He lifted up others rather than merely using them to advance his own interests. He did just what Jesus said here. And it was beautiful. May we go and do likewise. The world will be glad that we did.