The Gift of Myrrh: Honoring the Cost of Leadership

Gifts of Leadership Series, Post Three

This month, I’ve been learning from the wise men. Their journey, posture, and gifts have nudged me to reflect on the gifts leaders bring to our schools. Gold taught me about outcomes. Frankincense reminded me of presence. And now I’m sitting with the most complex gift of all: myrrh.

Connecting to the First Two Gifts

If you’ve missed reading the first two of my December series, I began with the wise men’s gift of gold, reflecting on how integrity produces the outcomes we call “gold” in leadership.

You can read it here:

The Gift of Gold: Leading with Integrity and Honor

Last week, I wrote about frankincense and the power of presence. When we step out of our offices and choose to be among our people, we change the atmosphere of a school.

You can read that post here:

The Gift of Frankincense: Presence that Changes the Atmosphere

Today, I’m reflecting on the third gift the wise men carried, Myrrh. The gift that acknowledges the weight, the humanity, and the cost of the calling.

Myrrh was used for anointing, healing, and burial. It symbolized sacrifice and the weight of purpose. The wise men offered it to Jesus at the very beginning of His life, signaling that calling always carries a cost. It wasn’t a gift for the moment. It was a gift for the journey.

Leadership has its own myrrh.

There came a season in my life when the work was heavier than my spirit. Not because I lacked strength, but because I had been strong for too long without rest. I poured everything I had into the school, the staff, and the students. I showed up early, stayed late, and carried the unseen parts of the job inside my heart and mind. I made room for the tears. I dealt with the frustrations and the hard conversations. I worked to meet the expectations and the weight of doing what was right, even when it wasn’t easy. And slowly, almost quietly, I realized the cost was catching up to me. I was evaporating. 

There’s a moment every leader faces when the calling feels familiar, but the capacity to lead feels thinner than it used to. There is still a deep love for the work, but your soul is asking for room to breathe. The weight you’ve carried begins to change the way you carry yourself.

For me, letting go wasn’t easy. I had put my time in and now I could retire. I was choosing to be whole again. Although (admittedly) at the time, I felt like a quitter. Now I can see it was a courageous decision to acknowledge and honor my limits. I had served as an educator in various capacities in my community for 31 years. I could now say goodbye. Leadership had asked a lot of me, and for a long time, I said yes without thinking twice. But myrrh reminds us that sacrifice without renewal is not holy. It is harmful.

I know now that stepping away from that season didn’t make me less of a leader. It made me a wiser one. It allowed me to return to the work of educating young people with clarity, purpose, and a heart that could pour into others again. I turned that goodbye into a hello and began serving schools across the state in a different capacity. That pause in my career taught me one of the most critical leadership truths I’ve ever learned: Honoring your humanity is part of honoring your calling.

Late-Lee, I’m thinking myrrh is the reminder that leadership costs something. It asks us to give, care, carry, and sometimes to release what is no longer ours to hold so someone with a new vision could step in and lead. It is the gift that says, “You cannot pour into others if you never pour back into yourself.”

Leader Reflection

What part of my leadership is asking for renewal, rest, or release?

Leader Move

Identify one weight you’ve been carrying alone.

Name it.

Could you share it?

Release a small piece of it this week.

Sometimes the most faithful leadership move is to let go.