EVERY PERSON IS A STEWARD, WHETHER THEY WANT TO BE OR NOT

Stewardship is one of those words that has been thrown around a lot lately, but I don't think we spend much time asking what it actually means.

Usually, when people talk about stewardship, they're talking about taking care of something. Be a good steward of your money. Be a good steward of the environment. Be a good steward of your family. All of those things are true, but I think they're describing the result of stewardship, not stewardship itself.

The more I've thought about it, the more I've come to believe that stewardship isn't something you do. It's something you are.

Actually, I think it goes one step further than that.

By virtue of existing, every human being is already affecting the people, places, and systems around them. Therefore, every human being is already a steward.

I know that's a bold statement, so let me explain why I believe it.

Every conversation you have affects another person. Every decision you make has consequences beyond yourself. Every interaction either strengthens or weakens the systems you participate in. Whether it's your family, your workplace, your neighborhood, your church, or your community, your presence changes something.

You don't get to decide whether you'll leave an impact.

You already are.

The only thing you get to decide is whether that impact leaves the people, places, and systems around you better or worse than they were before you arrived.

I think stewardship is part of the human condition.

The same way eating is.

The same way love is.

The same way happiness, grief, curiosity, and ambition are.

Every single one of us is already participating in the world around us. The question isn't whether we're participating. The question is what we're contributing.

That realization forces you to look in the mirror before you look anywhere else.

That's uncomfortable.

Good.

Growth is supposed to be uncomfortable.

If you've ever played sports, you know your coach didn't make you better by only pointing out the things you did well. If you've ever built something with your hands, you know you inspect your own work before handing it to someone else. If you've ever flown an airplane, you know you check your instruments before taking off.

Why would becoming a better person work any differently?

If we don't know what needs to change, we can't change anything.

One question I've started asking myself is this:

If everyone lived the way I do, would my community become stronger or weaker?

That's not an easy question to answer honestly.

But I think it's one of the most important questions we can ask ourselves.

Here's another thought I've been wrestling with.

I've started looking at the world differently. Instead of just seeing people and places, I see systems.

Families are systems.

Schools are systems.

Businesses are systems.

Communities are systems.

Trust is a system.

Even civilization itself is a system.

Every one of those systems becomes stronger or weaker because of the cumulative actions of the people who participate in them.

Think about something as simple as a grocery store.

Why are basic necessities locked behind glass now?

It's not because store owners woke up one morning and thought, "You know what would make shopping more enjoyable? Locked toothpaste."

It's because enough people abused the system that the system had to change.

Now honest people wait longer.

Businesses spend more money on security.

Prices go up.

Everyone pays for the decisions of people who chose to be bad stewards.

That's what low trust looks like.

Now flip that around.

What does a high trust society actually look like?

I think we got a pretty good example during this year's FIFA Club World Cup here in the United States.

After the matches were over and the stadium emptied out, videos started circulating online showing Japanese supporters staying behind to clean up the sections where they had been sitting. They brought trash bags with them, picked up bottles, food containers, wrappers, and anything else that had been left behind. Nobody asked them to do it. Nobody paid them. It wasn't their stadium, and it wasn't even their country.

They simply believed that if they occupied a space, they had a responsibility to leave it better than they found it.

That's stewardship.

I don't bring that up to say one culture is better than another. I bring it up because it's a perfect example of the mindset I'm talking about.

Imagine if that way of thinking extended beyond a soccer stadium.

Imagine if we approached our neighborhoods that way.

Our schools.

Our workplaces.

Our parks.

Our businesses.

Our communities.

What if we all looked at the places we use and asked ourselves, "What can I do to leave this just a little better than I found it?"

It doesn't have to be something extraordinary.

Sometimes stewardship looks like returning your shopping cart instead of leaving it in the parking lot.

Sometimes it means picking up a piece of trash that isn't yours.

Sometimes it's mentoring someone who's just starting out in your profession.

Sometimes it's teaching CPR.

Sometimes it's helping an elderly neighbor carry groceries.

Sometimes it's volunteering a few hours a month.

Sometimes it's simply passing your knowledge on to someone else.

Stewardship isn't measured by the size of the act.

It's measured by the mindset behind it.

Everybody knows something that somebody else doesn't.

Everybody has something they can contribute.

The question is whether we're willing to contribute it.

This is really why Guardian Operations exists.

People ask us what we do, and the easy answer is preparedness training.

That's true.

We teach CPR.

We teach first aid.

We teach responsible firearms education.

We teach scam prevention.

We teach emergency preparedness.

We teach organizations how to become more resilient.

But if that's all people think we do, then we've failed to explain ourselves.

Those classes are tools.

The mission is much bigger than that.

Our mission is to help build communities filled with people who take stewardship seriously.

People who understand that competence isn't just for personal benefit. It's something you develop so that you're more useful to the people around you.

If my neighbor knows CPR, that's good for me.

If someone down the street knows how to stop severe bleeding, that's good for all of us.

If more people know how to recognize scams, fewer seniors lose the savings they spent a lifetime building.

Competence spreads.

So does responsibility.

So does trust.

That's the kind of community I want to live in.

I don't think that starts with government.

I don't think it starts with laws.

And I don't even think it starts with organizations like ours.

I think it starts with one person asking themselves an honest question:

"Am I leaving the people, places, and systems around me better than I found them?"

By virtue of existing, you're already affecting the people, places, and systems around you.

That's true whether you acknowledge it or not.

That's why I believe every person is already a steward.

The question was never whether you are one.

The only question is what kind of steward you'll choose to become.

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A STEWARDSHIP CHALLENGE

This week, do one thing that leaves a person, a place, or a system better than you found it.

Don't post about it.

Don't look for recognition.

Just do it because that's the kind of person you want to become.