This past week I flew to South Carolina to visit my daughter Caroline, who is a sophomore at Clemson University. Caroline is an exceptional young woman, and I always cherish our daddy-daughter time.
My week was filled with being surrounded by exceptional people. My good friend and mentor, David Stone, has a home near Clemson and graciously offered to host me. If I were to rank my mentors, which would be difficult because I’ve been incredibly blessed to learn from the best of the best, David would sit towards the top as the most values-based and faith-centered leader in my life.
David isn’t someone you sit and have NSW conversations with (news, sports, weather). We get into the nitty-gritty. He challenges me. He makes me think and rethink. Topics I feel solid about, he comes at from another angle and pushes me to reconsider everything I thought I knew.
He did that again this week. David asked if he’d ever told me his top four religious movies. He hadn’t. I started guessing and threw out what I thought were strong contenders: The Passion of the Christ. The Chosen. Jesus of Nazareth. David laughed, shook his head, and said: Field of Dreams. Remember the Titans. Hoosiers. Rudy.
I chuckled because I know and love all those movies. I’ve watched Hoosiers so many times I wore out my DVD. I have watched Rudy so many times that when I go to my Netflix and select it to watch, a message comes up saying, “Are you sure you want to watch this again?”
But I had to challenge him. These are sports movies, not faith-based movies.
David smiled and said, “Let’s look at Field of Dreams.”
For those who haven’t seen it, Field of Dreams follows Ray Kinsella, an Iowa farmer who hears a mysterious voice whisper from his cornfield, “If you build it, they will come.” Without understanding why, Ray risks his already struggling livelihood to carve a baseball diamond into his cornfield. Soon, the ghosts of banned baseball players begin appearing to play.
Shoeless Joe Jackson shows up, a disgraced baseball legend banned after a scandal that stained his legacy. The field gives him a place to play again, free from judgment and public opinion. It restores dignity and his passion for the game.
Doc “Moonlight” Graham once played a single inning of Major League Baseball and never got to bat. He later became a small-town doctor who quietly served others. The field gives him the chance to complete an unfinished dream, to step back onto a baseball field.
Terence Mann is a famous writer who once inspired people but withdrew from the world after criticism. The field calls him out of isolation and back into purpose. He rediscovers hope, wonder, and a renewed love of the game.
And then there’s Ray’s father.
A young version of his father appears as one of the players, though Ray doesn’t recognize him at first. As the story unfolds, Ray realizes the field has given them something he never thought possible: a second chance. The movie concludes with Ray and his father having a game of catch, but it isn’t about baseball. It’s about reconciliation. Humility. Forgiveness. Love. It’s a quiet miracle that heals a regret Ray carried his entire adult life (one of the most tear-jerking scenes in all of movies).
For thirty-seven years this movie has existed, and the countless times I’ve watched it, I thought the story was about Ray saving his farm. It was about Ray having that final catch with his father. I saw it as a redemption story tied to his livelihood and his childhood.
This is where David Stone comes in.
He told me to let that notion go and look at it through the lens of servant leadership, specifically our call to put the lives of others before ourselves. The voice Ray hears isn’t about helping Ray. It’s about Ray serving others.
As Ray follows the voice, it costs him money, reputation, and security. Yet he keeps choosing a purpose bigger than himself. The field becomes a place of healing and second chances, revealing that Ray’s sacrifice was never about him. It was about creating a space where others could be restored.
Servant leadership asks us to build fields we may never personally play on. It asks us to invest in people whose wins won’t always have our name attached. That’s uncomfortable in a culture obsessed with credit and recognition. But the leaders who change lives are the ones willing to spend their energy helping others step into their moment. Sometimes that’s coaching someone past self-doubt. Sometimes it’s creating an opportunity for someone else to shine. Sometimes it encourages someone to be brave enough to swing.
Helping people achieve their dreams isn’t passive leadership. It requires patience, restraint, and belief in potential long before results show up on the scoreboard. Just like Ray tends the field before crowds ever arrive, servant leaders keep showing up before the payoff is visible.
When we build a field for others to thrive, we don’t disappear…we become part of something bigger. Our legacy isn’t measured by what we achieve, but by how many people we help lean into their achievements.
That’s the invitation.
Ray Kinsella learns he did not build a baseball field in the middle of his cornfield for himself. He built it for others.
Listen to the voice that calls you to serve others. Build your field. Trust that the influence you have on the lives of others is more important than personal gain. If you build that…they will come!