When I was growing up as a foster kid, I couldn’t really see past high school. I was just trying to survive the day, the week, the system. But in my senior year, I knew something had to change. I needed a different vision if I was going to give myself a better shot. So college became the goal.

It’s not lost on me that my generation’s greatest hope was education. Just like the generation before us, who believed in getting a good job and staying on that job for life, we were taught that success was found in employment. I heard similar messages: work hard, stay loyal, and security will follow.

But by the time I came out of college, I could feel the tide shifting. The era of lifetime employment was fading. The new mantra? Just stay employable.

And I did. I sharpened my skill set. I made sure I could adapt. I was going to be a hard worker, because I never felt like I had the luxury to coast.

Some people drift into life. I charged into it, headfirst, heart open, fists clenched.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been pushing, grinding, showing up with purpose. Leadership, in some form, always found me. But when I talk about leadership, I’m not just talking about being the person at the top.

To me, leadership is about influence. You can lead from any seat, whether it’s in an organization or in your community, through your thoughts, your words, and your actions.

For most of my life and career, I would’ve told you I aspired to leadership. And I did. But when I go deeper, when I sit still and reflect, I realize that I wasn’t just chasing leadership. I was longing for ownership.

That longing started early.

When I was a pre-teen, I borrowed a neighbor’s lawnmower. I had offered to cut his grass for free, if he let me use it to cut other people’s grass for profit. And he agreed. Just like that, I had my first business. I didn’t have the words for it then, but what I really wanted was to own something, to create something that was mine.

At 24, I remember sitting in my apartment in Columbia, Missouri, broke but burning with vision. I typed out a list: books I’d write, messages I’d speak, properties that could help people in transition, a home I could one day pass down. That list became a seed.

And in 2019, not long after I came to the bank, a mentor looked me in the eye and said: “Why don’t you own something? You can own and do what you do. You’ve got to take control over your financial future.”

That hit me.

But somewhere along the way, that vision, the one sparked in childhood and rekindled in my twenties, went dormant. Life happened. Responsibilities mounted. The dream got quiet.

The dream didn’t die, but it stopped talking. And I stopped listening. I got busy meeting deadlines, chasing promotions, showing up for others, while quietly letting go of what I’d once held close.

Now, in this season, a resurrection season, I’ve come to understand something powerful:

Leadership and ownership aren’t interchangeable.
They both matter. But they are not the same.

Leadership is noble. It’s necessary.
But ownership? Ownership is legacy. Ownership is generational. Ownership is freedom.

It’s the difference between driving the mission and owning the map.
Driving the mission means you move it forward, but owning the map means you decide where it’s headed.

And I don’t want to stop at leadership. I want to build. I want to own. I want to create things that outlive me and bless others.

Like Ezekiel in the valley of dry bones, I’ve come to believe that what looks dead can still breathe.

So if you’ve got a side hustle you’ve shelved…
If there’s a dream you buried…
If you’ve been faithfully building someone else’s vision but neglecting your own…

It’s time to resurrect it.

To resurrect means to bring something back to life, to restore what’s been inactive or forgotten.
And I believe this is your time.
It’s our time.

Time to breathe life back into that vision.
Time to take ownership of your next level.

This week, take ten minutes.
Revisit the dream. Write it down again. Speak life over it.
Because if you can see it, you can begin to build it.

And as you begin building, start where you are.

The first thing any of us owns is our labor. So steward it well.
If you’re working 18 hours a day, ask yourself, when I do the math, am I earning my worth? Or am I giving my labor away at minimum wage value?

Ownership isn’t just about businesses or buildings.
It’s about choices.
It’s about agency.
It’s about reclaiming your time, your talent, and your trajectory.

So think broadly.

• Think about where you already spend money, and consider investing in those very places.
• Think about publicly or privately held companies that align with your values and vision.
• Let your dollars tell a story.

Think about passion-fueled side hustles that may actually sharpen your leadership in your main work:

• If you’re a teacher —write books that inspire beyond the classroom.
• If you’re a nurse —start a wellness platform that teaches preventative care.
• If you’re a nonprofit leader —launch a course or podcast on social impact.
• If you’re a manager in corporate America —create consulting tools to help others navigate their climb.
• If you’re a chef —host pop-up dinners that tell stories through food.
• If you’re a social worker —create content that helps people heal.

You don’t have to quit what you’re doing.
You just need to refocus your energy.

Leadership is the start.
But ownership is the expansion.
It’s the legacy.
It’s the multiplier.

Resurrect the owner in you.
And build what only you can.

Because your future doesn’t just need your effort.
It needs your vision.

It’s your move. But it’s our legacy.