I was born to a 4th generation farmer, and from my earliest memory, my entire identity was wrapped up in one word: farmer. Being the first boy in the Leaders family tree in my generation meant incredible expectations. Everything about my childhood; International Harvester cap, boots, pliers on my belt, collecting toy tractors, long days riding along with dad, shaped me into believing that farming wasn’t just something I did. It was who I was.
But beneath that image was a very different reality. My childhood was marked by emotional and verbal abuse, constant criticism, and an atmosphere of fear. I learned early to bury my emotions and perform for approval I never received. I didn’t understand it then, but narcissistic abuse shaped how I viewed myself well into adulthood.
My identity crisis would continue to deepen as I tried to build a life, a marriage, and a professional career, but the loudest voice in my head was my dad. Instead of “leaving and cleaving,” I lived torn between my wife and the unreachable expectations of the farming legacy. Every decision became a desperate attempt to earn approval that always stayed out of reach.
Pride ran deep in our family, what my wife referred to as “The Leaders Pride.” Farming wasn’t just a job; it was an altar. And I was sacrificing just about everything to keep it alive: time, energy, peace, my marriage, my kids, and eventually even my integrity.
As my own financial career grew, I became obsessed with money which turned into a full-blown gambling addiction that I hid for years. The losses were devastating. I lived a double life: ashamed, exhausted, and trapped. I pushed harder, ran faster, and created a world of lies to avoid facing the truth.
I walked away from the farm in 2021 for good, when the pain from my father became unbearable. But the idol simply changed shape. I threw myself into several side hustles with the same obsession, performance mindset, and restless striving. Distractions that kept me secured in my self-made prison.
In late 2024, the house of cards collapsed. God, in His mercy, blew open the door to my self-made prison. Instead of the wrath that I experienced from my earthly dad growing up, God ran to this prodigal, embraced me, and told me I was loved. Instead of shame, I found acceptance. Instead of condemnation, I found forgiveness. Instead of fear, I found peace I could not explain.
"He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand." - Psalm 40:2
For nearly 50 years, I defined myself by work, performance, and approval. Today, God is teaching me who I really am: Not a failure - Not what my dad said I was - Not the sum of my mistakes.
Some of my deepest healing has come from simple moments with God:
- “Yes, Lord. I trust You.”
My relationship with my earthly dad remains difficult. Reconciliation may never come. But forgiveness is something God is working in me daily. And even without the closure I always wanted, I have the Father I always needed. The old life is gone. A new one is being formed.
This is who I am now:
I am no longer chasing the wind, but instead I am walking in confidence with my Heavenly Father.
Sharing my story isn’t about my pain, it’s about offering hope. I want anyone trapped in their wounds and mistakes to know they’re not alone and that healing is possible. Transparency breaks shame, opens the door to transformation, and gives permission to pursue freedom. My testimony exists to shine a light where the enemy tried to keep me silent and to help others step into the purpose God has for them.
John Leaders