One of the few undergraduate courses that I still get to teach at Manna University is Mentoring & Coaching. Almost every undergraduate student takes the course, which means I get the privilege of connecting with nearly every student who journeys through our university.
Early in the course, I usually ask some version of two simple questions:
Who are you coaching?
Who coaches you?
The first question tends to come naturally to leaders.
The second one…not so much.
Leadership has a strange way of slowly convincing people that competency eliminates the need for coaching.
You gain experience.
You develop expertise.
People start asking for your advice instead of questioning your assumptions.
You move into positions where you are expected to lead, teach, solve problems, and make decisions.
If you are not careful, you can slowly drift into a dangerous place: being responsible for everyone else’s growth while quietly neglecting your own.
That is one of the hidden risks of leadership.
The longer you lead, the easier it becomes to mistake experience for immunity.
I have seen this in ministry, academia, nonprofits, organizational leadership, and frankly, in myself.
The irony is that many leaders strongly believe in mentoring others while subtly resisting being mentored themselves.
We love coaching.
We are less enthusiastic about being coached.
Several years ago, I was invited to pray at a Regent University fundraising event. The keynote speaker was Admiral Vern Clark, the 27th Chief of Naval Operations and former member of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
During our conversation, he asked about my military background, family, and doctoral studies. Then he leaned in and asked a simple question:
“Carlo, tell me about your doctoral program. How is the non-traditional format working for you?”
I gave him my standard answer at the time:
“Sir, it is the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.”
He smiled, looked directly at me, and said: “GOOD! It’s supposed to be hard because life and leadership are hard.”
I have never forgotten that moment.
Strong coaches do not simply affirm potential. They help recalibrate expectations.
Growth is often uncomfortable.
Formation is often demanding.
Anything worth having costs something.
That lesson extends far beyond formal education.
Over the years, I have benefited from pastors, professors, senior leaders, colleagues, military leaders, friends, coaches, and mentors who challenged my thinking, sharpened my leadership, and occasionally told me things I did not particularly want to hear.
I needed all of it.
Still do.
That is one reason I distinguish between coaching and consulting when I teach.
Consulting often focuses on strategies, systems, assessments, and organizational solutions. Coaching is different.
Coaching involves relationships, commitment, accountability, encouragement, questions, correction, and helping someone navigate obstacles while growing into who they are called to become.
Coaching requires proximity and proximity creates vulnerability.
That is often where leaders struggle because being coachable requires humility, and it requires admitting that experience does not eliminate blind spots.
It requires recognizing that wisdom is not the same thing as having answers for everything.
It requires allowing trusted people close enough to challenge assumptions, ask difficult questions, and occasionally say: “You are missing something.”
Or: “You handled that poorly.”
Or: “You are carrying too much.”
Or simply: “Slow down.”
Leadership culture tends to reward confidence, decisiveness, and competence. Those things aren’t bad. However, they aren’t the “only things.”
So, I’ll ask the question again.
Who are you coaching?
Keep investing.
Keep mentoring.
Keep developing others.
But do not neglect the second question.
Who coaches you?
Who has permission to challenge your thinking?
Who helps you identify blind spots?
Who tells you the truth when you are moving too fast, carrying too much, or drifting off course?
Who helps shape your growth now that people increasingly expect you to have the answers?
Leadership is hard and traumatic. Deal with it, but don’t try to deal with it alone.
Dr. Carlo A. Serrano, President