Steady Presence Beats Strong Opinion Every Time

An older man and a young boy sitting on a dock, gazing at a sunset over a calm lake.

We live in an age drunk on opinion. Everyone has one. Most have ten. And thanks to the miracle of Wi-Fi, we can broadcast them before we’ve even had our second cup of tea. Strong opinions are applauded. Quick takes are rewarded. Volume often masquerades as wisdom. But in leadership—and in parenting—steady presence beats strong opinion every time. Let me explain.

In leadership circles, the loudest voice in the room is often mistaken for the strongest. It’s not. It’s simply the loudest. A strong opinion may win an argument. It rarely wins a heart. Children do not flourish under the weight of your certainty; they flourish under the shelter of your steadiness. The same is true of teams. When a leader reacts quickly, declares boldly, and pivots sharply with every new headline, people feel the tremor beneath their feet. But when a leader is steady—calm, measured, not easily rattled—others exhale. And when people exhale, they think better. They risk more. They grow. Think of Winston Churchill during the Blitz. He had opinions—strong ones. But what the British people drew strength from wasn’t merely his rhetoric. It was that he stood in the rubble with them. He did not disappear. Presence anchored his words. In crisis, people do not need your sharpest insight first. They need to know you’re not going anywhere.

To Parents and Grandparents

Parenting is a long game. As parents, and grandparents, we are tempted to correct everything in real time. Every mistake. Every attitude. Every misstep. You can spend your life chasing behaviour with opinions. Or you can build a climate with presence. Presence says, “I’m here. I’m not panicked. You’re not too much for me.” Strong opinion says, “Here’s what’s wrong. Here’s how you fix it. Here’s why you’re mistaken.” There is a place for guidance, absolutely. Scripture is not shy about correction. But notice how often Christ simply stayed with people. Consider Jesus with Peter after failure. He did not unload a lecture on loyalty metrics. He made breakfast. Then he restored him. Presence first. Instruction second. That order matters more than we think.

If you are constantly asserting your opinion, it is often because you are afraid of losing authority. Ironically, the more you insist, the more you diminish. Authority grows quietly when people experience you as consistent. You do not overreact. You do not shift with every emotional gust. You do not disappear when things get awkward. In boardrooms and living rooms alike, steadiness is magnetic. A steady leader does not rush to fill every silence. A steady parent does not escalate every conflict. A steady grandfather does not need to win every debate at the table. He just needs to be there: anchored, attentive, unflustered. That kind of presence becomes a reference point in other people’s storms.

Five years from now, most of your opinions about cultural flare-ups will be irrelevant. But your children will remember whether you were emotionally safe. Your team will remember whether you were consistent. Your spouse will remember whether you were available. Strong opinions often serve our ego. Steady presence serves others. And if we are honest, ego is loud. Love is steady.

What does steady look like?

Steadiness is not passivity. It is disciplined restraint. It is strength under control. It is choosing timing over impulse. It is asking a question before issuing a verdict. It is listening long enough that your eventual words carry weight. The leaders I trust most are not those who always know what to say. They are those who know when not to speak. There is a difference.

So..

Before you offer your next strong opinion, pause. Ask yourself if this is the right moment. Ask whether your motive is clarity or control. Ask whether your presence alone might accomplish more. You may find that simply staying calm, staying curious, and staying near does more good than your carefully constructed argument. And if you must choose between being right and being relational, choose relational. Right answers without relationship harden hearts. Steady presence softens them. In leadership and in parenting, you are not building a case. You are building people. And people grow best in the company of someone who isn’t going anywhere.

Aging Reflections: A Road Less Travelled

The photo above is one of the few roads on Keats Island and where our Better with Age retreat will be held. I love how the image draws you forward, but you do not know where it goes once you’re deeper into the forest. I do know that this road does come to a point where you have to make a decision to go right or go left.

It has been my lifelong commitment to inspire souls to lead, to find strength in their convictions, and to empower their steps with unwavering confidence. Now, as I reflect on the inevitability of my own aging, I recognize the need for those skills to adapt and endure. That is why I joined my dear friends, Dr. Paul Pearce and Dr. Paul Stevens, who taught a course at Regent College called “Aging Matters,” based on Stevens’s book. This is also why my wife Glenda, Paul and I are facilitating a retreat for Baby Boomers in partnership with Barnabas Landing called “Better with Age.”

Better with Age allows Baby Boomers to delve into matters of calling, spirituality, and legacy in retirement. In this environment, we want to be encouraged to continue to discern our purpose as we grow older and remain meaningfully engaged for the rest of our lives. We want you to better understand this season of life and reframe retirement as a time of continued calling and productivity. Better with Age points to biblical wisdom that can help us redefine aging as an extraordinarily fruitful season of life.

The Fork in the Road – Acceptance or Denial?

I found myself, much like you might have, standing at a metaphorical fork in the road. One path, worn by the countless footsteps of the courageous, is the thoroughfare of acceptance—a road where we acknowledge the reality of our age with clear eyes and a full heart. The other path is denial, coated with the veneer of youth—a tempting detour that leads one into a mirage, away from the weight of years and the truth they carry.

Choosing the road of aging is far from waving a white flag; it is an act of courage. It’s an uprising against the fear of irrelevance, a bold declaration that our sunset years can be as enriching as the dawn of our youth. Here, real love flourishes, the kind that endures beyond transitory feelings—a resilient garden blooming from the seed of commitment nourished by actions and deeds.

Guidance Through the Uncertainties of Aging

Allow me to impart some guidance drawn from years of whispering courage into the hearts of leaders, many of whom struggle in the twilight of their careers:

  1. Acknowledge Change: Recognize the transformation in your body and mind as a natural progression of life, not as an enemy to be contested but as a companion on your journey. This acceptance paves the way for peace and prepares the arena for untapped growth.
  2. Invest in Healthy Living: We must learn and practice skills to maintain vitality. Prioritize wellness, engage in activities that nourish your body, and cultivate habits that anchor your mental health. Remember, well-being is a discipline, not a mere stroke of luck.
  3. Cultivate Lasting Bonds: True affection stems from the roots of shared experiences and weathered storms. Commit to your relationships, be they professional or personal, and watch as affection deepens into a resilient bond that time can only strengthen, not wither.
  4. Legacy of Leadership: Aging as a leader bestows upon you the rare opportunity to reflect not only on successes but also on the wisdom harvested from trials. Pass down this legacy. Mentor the young, ignite purpose in their endeavours, and gift them with a compass that points toward integrity and authentic living.
  5. The Virtue of Adaptability: In a world that glorifies perpetual youth, be the voice that champions adaptability. Model how one can simultaneously honour the past and gracefully evolve to adopt new perspectives, skills, and roles.

Forks and Roads – A Personal Anecdote

Like you, I, too, encountered this fork. I was living the “Life of Carson,” as my doctor once told me, and on the road of denial, thinking I could do everything I have always been able to do. Well, that is not true anymore. Now I chose the road of aging—the less-travelled road, and I am learning about new things and seeing how God still has purpose for us as we age. I accepted the graying of my hair as a crown of wisdom, and although my family DNA does not seem to flood my top with grey, I do see more than I did last year. The new lines on my face are etchings of both joy and sorrow, borne with equal grace.

What changed my perspective? In 2022, I spent three weeks in a hospital ICU. I was having a multitude of tests done on my heart due to an incident. That experience caused me to face, with some evidence, that I was getting older. To be honest, I fought it, but in quiet moments, while resting in my hospital bed, I realized I was entering what I now call the third period of the hockey game and with no promise of overtime. I came out of the hospital with an ICD, and a different lifestyle. This choice to accept my getting older has not been without its struggle, but it has been illuminated with an authenticity that actually makes life even better.

What road are you on? Pause. Reflect. Then, stride forward, knowing that you do not walk it alone. We all are learning lessons. My insights and yours are like lanterns left to light the way for others. May they guide you to lead with conviction as you inherit the mantle of your twilight sage.

In closing, remember readers, the roads we select will wind and weave differently for each of us, but the horizon is shared—the dusk of our days. As the Scriptures share, we do not number our days, but we can choose how we will live them. Aging is neither the end of the road nor the cessation of influence; it is a continuance, a testament to the lives we’ve moulded, the leadership we’ve inspired, and the legacy we leave behind.

Lead on, not despite your years, but because of them.