Last summer my stereotypes were shattered through a course called “Substance Abuse and Society,” which gave me a firsthand glimpse into the program of Alcoholics Anonymous. Like the church, AA encourages people to seek healing and growth. But sometimes unlike church, AA prizes authenticity—in a Jesus kind of way. I was surprised at how much I gleaned about leadership in those church basements. Take a journey through a few of the Twelve Steps to examine your authenticity as a leader:

I know it’s a little late to be serving up a 2011 retrospective. The new year? That was so three weeks ago.

Well, I would have done this earlier, but we’ve been making a big transition here at Gifted for Leadership, and quite honestly, it’s taken me a few weeks to figure out where everything is. Now that I have found my way to the computer, I’m actually writing this post for two reasons: to tell you which blog posts and downloads were most popular among our readers in 2011 (as promised in the title) and to (re)introduce myself.

Second things first.

Some of you may recognize my name; many of you are new to Gifted for Leadership since I last served at the editorial helm. Back in 2007, when Gifted for Leadership launched, I was the editor who started and oversaw this blog. I also wrote frequent posts myself. During the next few years, other editors took responsibility for Gifted for Leadership while I worked on other projects in my role as an executive at Christianity Today.

The Bible I’ve owned since college is coffee-spill-stained, underlined in a rainbow of colors, re-bound with packing tape. Margin notes sit like altars erected along the journey, commemorating encounters with God.

A curious phenomenon: pages of the last third of this book are worn, dog-eared, dingy, graffiti’d with yellow highlighter and pencil. The first two-thirds, not so much. I’m much more comfortable navigating the New Testament than the Old. But in recent years, that’s been changing, slowly but surely, as I discover the hidden treasures of the text Philip Yancey called, “The Bible Jesus Read.”

If we claim to be “Bible-believing Christians,” we cannot ignore the first two-thirds of that book, or only dabble in Psalms and Proverbs. As leaders, if we are to teach a Bible study or preach a sermon, do we always default to the Gospels or Epistles? What if we were brave enough to excavate the gems of the Old Testament?

I walked off the stage, the title to my presentation—Community in Leadership—in bold at the top of my speaking notes. I had just spent 40 minutes convincing women leaders of the power and importance of being intimately involved in community with others.

Ironically, or perhaps hypocritically, I was the loneliest, most isolated person I knew. Mentally, I knew leadership and relationships weren’t mutually exclusive. I just couldn’t convince my lonely heart. As I battled feelings of loneliness, I realized I harbored several patterns of thinking that kept me feeling alone.

Lonely for God. I was doing all the right things–praying, reading my Bible, serving Jesus in ministry. Yet here I was, lonely. It seemed like God had abandoned me. Wasn’t he supposed to meet all my needs? Had I done something wrong? Or not done enough for him?

My New Year’s resolution this year is unusual, really more of an anti-resolution. My hope for 2012 is to become less intentional.

Less intentional, you ask? Why on earth would a person want that? I’ll explain.

I’m a strategist by nature. I process things rationally, assessing situations, coming up with recommendations, tinkering mentally with life issues and circumstances. I’m also fast-moving leader and productivity-oriented, a fit-it-all-in, get-it-done kind of girl.

Put these two together and you can see that intentionality isn’t a problem for me. Coming up with goals and moving toward them is pretty much how God made me.

There are many upsides to these character traits, and I thank God for how he wired me. Lately, though, I’ve been seeing the downsides that such attributes can bring if left to their own devices.

Last fall I was talking with a friend about her son’s preschool teacher. She described the middle-age woman, well-known and respected in their community, as “very intentional but lacking in freedom.” On paper, the woman is inspiring–a remarkable gardener and excellent cook; a restorer of furniture and exemplary homemaker; a person who’d cultivated many talents and utilized her resources well. ”But she comes across as kind of joyless,” my friend said, “and her relationships with her (now adult) children seem strained.”

I’m in the midst of leading a project I don’t feel particularly passionate about. It didn’t start out this way. I launched into it with great enthusiasm. I was confident I was following God’s will by pursuing the project, but as time has passed and I’ve grown less enamored with it, I’m wondering whether I misread the signs.

Truth be told, the project isn’t meeting my expectations. I feel defeated that it’s not as successful as it ought to be. In essence, my interest is waning because it doesn’t feel worth my time. My ebbing interest makes me wonder: Is passion always an indicator of God’s will? I’m pretty sure that God has called people to things they weren’t necessarily passionate about. I’m sure they felt defeated and unsuccessful too. (Insert Moses, David, or nearly any biblical character you can think of as a prime example.)

Why do we do this then? Why do we equate passion—or a lack of it—with God’s will or plan for our lives? Why do we so easily throw in the towel when we lose passion? Why are we quick to walk away from a job or project when we find ourselves a little defeated?

“Must be my hormones again.”

“Oh, it’s just estrogen.”

“I’m just a chick with a bad thyroid.”

These are the kinds of things I hear women in high-profile positions say about themselves—and by extension, about all women.

Recently, a writer submitted an article for our staff to consider for publication. In it the author bitterly criticized strong women for not getting along with others and aggressively destroying women around them for no apparent reason. The article used several offensive and stereotypical terms in referring to women, such as “catfight,” “henpecked,” “meow,” and “creatures containing estrogen.”

This article was written by a woman.

’Tis the season—the season when church leaders and volunteers feel the squeeze of work and family life. From Christmas cards to gift wrapping to party planning, Christmas adds a new dimension to our already hectic lives.

And then there’s church! For weeks, volunteers have been feverishly preparing Christmas programs, organizing gift markets, coordinating food drives. Church workers have been hard-pressed on every side with little relief.

All of the extra work that comes with the Christmas season—even when it’s fulfilling and meaningful—can lead to year-end burnout. So now is a perfect time to get creative about how you show appreciation to your ministry volunteers. Here are a few creative ways to say thank you as you begin the new year.

At the same time God was opening her eyes to the plight of women in India and Bangladesh, Sarah was also learning about the folkloric tradition of kantha quilting. In kantha quilting, the material from the discarded saris of the rich is used by the poor to make quilts. Drawn to this practical and artful craft, Sarah sensed there would be a market in the U.S. for these beautiful blankets. And this would be a way to provide jobs for her precious new friends. And these jobs would provide an alternative to returning to prostitution after they left the government home when they turned 18.

Five of us, my closest girlfriends, are trying to find a time to get together during December. Just us, we wouldn’t even dare attempt trying to include spouses or kids. So far we have intentions, but no two-hour window when all of us are free.

Our calendars groan under the weight of obligations. The church calendar, meanwhile, declares the season of Advent (from the Latin adventus, “coming”), a season of waiting. More than a countdown to Christmas, Advent anticipates—not just a day of feasting and presents, but the quiet miracle of the incarnation.

How do we care for our souls in Advent? How do we watch for the light of Jesus? For ministry leaders, everything from children’s Christmas pageants to planning multiple Christmas services can make the month of December a time of stress and busyness that leaves us feeling worn out, rather than reflective. We are trying to slog through December, and the only thing we are waiting for is for it to be over.

Your ability to be fully present with the people or children you lead will depend on your ability to be present with God. This is true not just in Advent but all year long. It just gets harder in this season—and therefore more crucial.

Ambition isn’t unique to women. Men strive to get ahead just like we do. But within women’s leadership circles, I’m noticing a troubling trend: In our rally cry to gain a place in the pulpit, we may be losing something else—our heart for servanthood.

Even though gossip has become somewhat of a national pastime, Paul advises Timothy, a young leader in the church, to protect what has been entrusted to him by avoiding empty gossip: “Guard what God has entrusted to you. Avoid godless, foolish discussions with those who oppose you with their so-called knowledge. Some people have wandered from the faith by following such foolishness” (1 Timothy 6:20-21).

Don’t get me wrong, most of us are happy to preach about weakness, write about weakness, and even encourage others to be open about their weakness. But something about the public nature of our leadership roles, or perhaps our own pride, makes it harder for us to be honest about our own shortcomings. After all, what would people think if they learned that you and I are light years away from having it all figured out?

The first time I asked this question, I was a volunteer women’s director with three children under six. Now, I’m on a church staff, but the demands of the role and my family continue to make it impossible to reach everyone. I struggled then (and still do) with understanding how to care for so many needs with such limited time.

So when Andy Stanley spoke directly to my influence-itis at the Catalyst Conference, I listened. His message was simple:

Do for one what you wish you could do for everyone.