
It’s hard to know where to begin. Influence isn’t always loud or immediate. Sometimes it’s a quiet thread that weaves through years of life, shaping convictions, opening possibilities, naming things we already knew but couldn’t yet articulate.
For me, a few people stand out—some well-known, others known mostly to me.
Parker Palmer is one of them. His writing helped me recognise something I had long intuited about teaching and learning: that education is not about the performance of the teacher but the life of the subject we are drawn into. His work gave language and clarity to what I wanted to live out. The retreats I attended through the Courage & Renewal Centre didn’t just affirm my direction—they helped me ground it.
William Willimon was another key figure, particularly during the years I worked on my doctoral thesis. I reached out with little expectation and was met with openness, generosity, and sharp insight. His engagement was more than academic; it reminded me that deep thought and deep faith can still make room for conversation and kindness.
And then there’s Neville.
Neville Cox isn’t famous outside of certain circles, but his influence on me has been profound. We first met more than forty years ago in a lunchtime Bible study at work. I was fresh out of university; he was already on a leadership track. We ran into each other several times over the decades, and for the last eight years, he’s been my mentor.
Neville doesn’t lead with ego. He listens. He asks the kind of questions that unstick you. In moments of uncertainty—especially through the challenges of leading a college during the pandemic—Neville was a steady presence. He’s someone I take the hardest questions to, and somehow, without overcomplicating, he helps me see what matters most. On several occasions, a simple suggestion has unlocked an overwhelming problem.
There are many voices that have shaped my thinking. But the ones I keep coming back to are those who combine wisdom with humility, conviction with grace. People who make space—for questions, for growth, and for others to find their way.
Quiet Influence
Not all influence is loud.
It doesn’t always stand on a stage
or speak in bold declarations.
Sometimes it’s a steady presence—
a calm voice in a cluttered moment,
a thoughtful question
that shifts the way you see.
Some people give us frameworks,
others give us space.
Some name the truth,
others live it
without needing to be noticed.
We carry them with us—
in how we lead,
how we listen,
how we hold the tension
between conviction and grace.
The ones who shaped us
don’t always make headlines.
But they leave fingerprints
on the decisions we make,
and the kind of person we choose to become.
And if we’re paying attention,
we begin to offer
that kind of presence
to others.
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