Discovering Maturity as a Steward of Life

Alex Tevere, unsplash

What would the world look like to me if I took on the mantle of stewardship? How will it change the way I approach my life and handle all that it brings?

I realised that this shift of perspective is potent in helping me to navigate life and anticipate its end.

The simple definition of being a steward is someone who conducts, supervises, or manages something. As a Christian, stewardship means “managing God’s resources for His glory and the betterment of His creation.” I am, therefore, not the owner of what I own. The goal of stewardship is to keep utilisation separate from ownership. It is not mine to claim or fight for. Neither is it mine to lose sleep over. I am a trustee, safeguarding what is entrusted to me - “managing God’s resources.” 

This mindset is applicable universally, across all the roles I play. As a father, I am a steward of my children’s well-being. As a husband, I am a steward of my marriage. As a worker, I am a steward of what I receive at the end of the month. In legal-speak, a legal title is not a beneficial interest. So, I should not take my experiences, good or bad, personally or too seriously. While a pat on the back is called for, I should always remind myself that I am not defined by it. 

For stewardship is not ownership,

and I can learn to deal with what happens to me with a calm, third-person perspective, instead of allowing it to cast a long, dark shadow as I journey through life. 

Failures happen, and it is often hard to accept. It can be scary, too. Equally, thinking of the uncertain future can cause anxiety and pain. But as a steward, I am tasked to manage these experiences. They are not external, random circumstances that happen to me as much as events and lessons for me to learn from and grow through. That is what a steward does. He handles them. He manages the crisis, however long it takes. He is there from the start to the end. 

In good times, a steward joins in the celebration. In tough times, a steward tarries with faith and hope. He stays put. He never leaves life behind, so to speak. For this reason, he does not take the pain personally. However, this does not mean he denies the pain, the hurts, the emotions. There is no doubt they are as real as the blood that bleeds when the flesh is cut. A steward knows that intimately. He is soul-deep with life, but still keeps an arm’s length from it. Yes, a paradox. He identifies with it, is affected by it for a season, but will not allow himself to be paralysed by it, or be trapped in it.

A steward is there when the tears flow. He is there when the nights linger. He is also there when darkness looms. A steward takes responsibility for the experiences he manages. He is accountable to Life. That is his calling, a ministry of presence; most times, a quiet one, and unseen. But he also knows there are many seasons in one lifetime.. A season to cry. A season to rejoice. A season to be born and a season to bury. Even a season to wait patiently for a season to pass while another lies in wait. That overarching season is for a lifetime, and the steward readily adopts that perspective because that is the full range of a life’s experience under his oversight. 

And because he sees further, a steward never lets the experience of one season overwhelm him. He does not let the hurts and pain draw premature conclusions for him. He will not let them distract him. He keeps a distance. He stands firm on what he is called to do. And he strives to fulfill that sacred calling to shepherd life. 

Even for the experience of success, the steward does not take it personally. He does not let his guard down. He does not let it go to his head. He manages, remember? He does not allow complacency or pride to mar his judgement. He knows a neglect in one season will affect the other. Like the effect of a domino, a season in the valley not managed well will spill over to the next. And a season at the summit, if one allows oneself to self-indulge in excess, will also overwhelm. A steward thus fights to keep the balance at both experiential peaks, the valleys, and the summits. That is what the steward is called to do. He plays his role as a third person, taking a long lens’ perspective, and is faithful to see life through, come what may. 

He is a shepherd for all seasons, a steward for life. 

It is therefore a good reminder for me: be a steward. Be one for my own life. And don’t take things personally. For this too, shall pass. Life ought to advance with courage and hope, not shrink as fear, like shadows darkens our day. From one season to another, a steward learns from it and grows. A good steward releases his grip and does not hoard, as he knows none of it is his to keep and rule. 

One day, I will be buried, and my stewardship responsibility will come to an end. In pondering all of these, I realised

what a steward reaps is maturity and resilience from a lifetime of overcoming, whether in the valley below or at the summit peak.

Michael Han is a father of three and a director of a legal firm in the heartland of Singapore