The Lamb in the Cockpit: Christ-Like Leadership in “Top Gun: Maverick”

What makes a trustworthy leader?

In the opening scenes of Top Gun: Maverick, we’re invited to eavesdrop on an elite group of fighter pilots, each of whom is pondering this question. It’s no mere intellectual curiosity. For these young aviators, the answer will spell the difference between life and death. They’ve been given a seemingly impossible mission: destroy an unsanctioned nuclear facility, which is nestled in an impassible canyon fortress and guarded by both surface-to-air missiles and fifth-generation fighter planes. The challenge is exacerbated by tensions within the group. Rival pilots vie for leadership: one a braggart who neglects his wingmen, the other a powder-keg whose temper clouds his judgement. To top it all off, the officer responsible to train these pilots is none other than Captain Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, a man whose latest unauthorized stunt turned a hypersonic jet into a heap of scrap metal. Maverick’s unorthodox teaching style evokes puzzlement in his students and impatience in his superiors. As the fault lines within their party widen, the pilots (and we who witness their story), begin to wonder what, if anything, can keep their fragile hopes aloft.

A few confessions: I’ve never seen the original Top Gun movie. I’m not a fan of Tom Cruise. I have little interest in military matters, and I don’t gravitate toward action movies or big-budget blockbusters. As such, I’m not exactly the target audience for director Joseph Kosinski’s sequel to the iconic 1986 film. Yet, I must also confess that Top Gun: Maverick is my favorite film of the year so far, by a long shot. There’s a lot to praise about it, including its meticulous attention to detail, its magnificent cinematography, its high-flying soundtrack, and its visceral stunt sequences. However, the aspect of the film that ultimately won my admiration was its thoughtful exploration of leadership. For those with eyes to see and ears to hear, Top Gun: Maverick offers a profound glimpse into the heart of history’s most perplexing, polarizing, and paradoxical leader: Jesus Christ.

If you’re anything like me, the last few years have done little to bolster your confidence in Christian leadership. The headlines are as relentless and unavoidable as guided missiles: pastors embezzling funds, celebrities abusing their followers, denominations hiding elaborate scandals, churches bickering over current events, and politicians wielding faith as a tool for personal gain. Again and again, we see the people whose lives and wisdom we’ve trusted bailing out, the machines they’ve piloted rupturing and combusting overhead. The hypocrisy that we witness breeds deep cynicism. For those who have been used or bruised by faith leaders, the notion of trusting Christians or the Christian message can feel every bit as deadly as the mission faced by Top Gun:Maverick’s pilots. Those called by God to positions of church leadership also face a difficult dilemma. In an increasingly jaded and post-Christian society, how can they win the trust of those they seek to help without falling prey to the same pitfalls and temptations that have ruined so many others? Is there anyone we can trust, including ourselves? And if Christian leaders so routinely let us down, what about the God those leaders represent?

In the pages of the gospels, we find Jesus’ disciples grappling with similar questions. They have left everything to follow Jesus, staking their fortunes and reputations on his claim to be Israel’s messiah. The early days were great, jam-packed with miraculous healings, stunning exorcisms, and tantalizing sermons about the kingdom of God. However, the mission keeps becoming more complicated. The disciples’ rabbi looks nothing like the military conqueror they’ve been taught to await. Not only does he keep prophesying his own crucifixion at the hands of the Romans, but the future he predicts for his followers looks pretty bleak as well, chock-full of rejection and martyrdom. As if these teachings weren’t confusing enough, Jesus warns his students that many false teachers will attempt to lead them astray, promising profitable and palatable alternatives to the difficult way of Christ. The disciples are disturbed by Jesus’ strategy. Peter goes so far as to declare it foolhardy. How could the abundant life of God’s kingdom ever come from suffering and death?

On the flipside, Jesus struggles to prepare his pupils for the firestorm that is coming. Like Maverick’s students (who, interestingly, are also a company of twelve), the disciples veer back and forth between lessons on cooperation, failed attempts to apply those teachings, and arguments about who is worthy to lead their group. Ultimately, each and every one of them will abandon Jesus in his hour of greatest need. The disciple hand-picked by Jesus as the foundation stone of the fledgling church will eventually crack under threat of persecution, disavowing his Lord three times. We start to wonder what Jesus sees in these men. How could such a petty and factious crew ever be trusted to launch God’s world-saving project?

It is here, into the very heart of our cynicism about Christ and the cowards, hotheads, and turncoats who represent him, that a scene from Top Gun: Maverick comes thundering with all the force of a fighter jet. To all appearances, Maverick’s quest has failed. Not only has he been stripped of his position, but his replacement is woefully out of touch with the stringent requirements of the air strike, and Maverick’s pupils know it. As they sit through their final briefing, we see the despair settling in their eyes.

Then, out of nowhere, a blip appears on the radar screen – an unauthorized fighter plane, hurtling at breakneck speed toward the training course that has stymied the pilots throughout the film. As realization of who is steering the rogue craft sets in, the pilots watch the screen unblinkingly, willing their mentor to do what none of them dreamed was possible. First weaving through a narrow canyon at an unfathomably low altitude, then climbing over a cliff against a wall of g-forces, then jettisoning missiles onto a target far below, Maverick shows his students once and for all that their task is achievable. His example gives them hope. Not only will Maverick be invited back to base, but he will also assume command of the mission, flying before his students into the final conflict.

What does this scene have to say to those embittered and burnt out by Christian leadership gone wrong? For starters, it points us back to the paradigm. In Maverick’s unauthorized flight, we see the hallmark of truly Christ-like authority: self-emptying service to the beloved. Jesus redefined leadership forever when he said to his disciples, “Whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first among you must be your slave – just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Matthew 20:26-28). Maverick’s efforts to prepare his students well have already cost him his position. By returning to base against orders, he risks further disciplinary action. Yet, the success of his pupils is worth the sacrifice. Maverick’s humble, self-sacrificial love stands in stark contrast to Christian celebrity culture, which all too often holds out power, wealth, and acclaim as incentives to its heroes, rather than a cross.

Maverick understands the challenges faced by his students intimately, from within the cockpit. As a result, he identifies himself with them on a profound level. His actions distinguish him from his superiors, who strategize from the safety of their offices and thus are ignorant of the true demands of the mission. Unlike them, Maverick wants far more than his students’ success. He wants their survival. They aren’t his pawns; they’re his friends. He has joined them in the air, and now his fate is inseparably bound to theirs. This radical identification with those who follow behind is another cornerstone of Christ-like leadership. In a recent chapel message at Wheaton College, poet, singer-songwriter, and priest Malcolm Guite expounded a puzzling verse in the Book of Revelation, which depicts Jesus as a lamb seated on a heavenly throne: “The lamb in the center of the throne will be their shepherd” (Revelation 7:17). The lamb will be their shepherd? Reflecting on this verse, Guite contrasts Christ’s incarnational model of authority with the distant, disconnected leadership frequently displayed in American churches:

We have the only Shepherd who knows what it’s like to be a lamb. We have a Leader who has been led. We have one who rules who has served. I’ll tell you what’s gone wrong with a lot of shepherding in the churches, a lot of shepherding where it turns out to be wolves in sheep’s clothing… they have forgotten what it’s like to be a lamb. They’re not interested in the lambs anymore: “Hey, I’m a shepherd!”… But ‘the lamb on the throne will be their shepherd.’ That’s what makes the good shepherd the good shepherd.

We may recognize the beauty and authenticity of Christ’s mode of leadership. But what should we do when it’s twisted into a weapon? How should we respond when those who claimed to be lambs reveal their claws, turning and ravaging the flock? Top Gun: Maverick reminds us of the truth that Jesus’ disciples failed to grasp: as counterintuitive as it may seem, the way of the cross leads to exaltation and glory. Maverick’s courageous act of love wins him his rightful place as head of the flight team. Similarly, in Paul’s letter to the Philippians, we learn that Jesus’ self-emptying service and sacrificial death have triumphed over earthly power, exalting him to the place of highest authority (Philippians 2:5-9). Knowing the end of the story enables us to see all human power, especially oppressive power, as inherently partial and provisional. A day of reckoning is coming when all knees will bow to Jesus’ lordship (Philippians 2:10-11). Those who were victimized by the powerful will finally receive justice. Those who were persecuted in service to Christ, countering hatred and tyranny with self-giving love, will finally be vindicated. Furthermore, those who were entrusted with power will be forced to give an account of how they used it. Yes, our leader is the lamb slain for the sins of the world (Revelation 13:8). His grace is deep enough to pardon any sin and purify any sinner. But that same lamb now occupies the throne. He has given us orders, and when our mission is over, it’s him we will report to.

These promises offer hope of future consolation. But what about the here and now? In a world where Christian leaders so routinely crash and burn, leaving trails of devastation in their wake, how can those of us who strive to follow behind or to lead others well ever hope to find out way? The answer, echoed so beautifully in Maverick’s solo completion of the training course, is at once simple and profound: Our Captain completed the mission before we ever began it. We follow a Savior who not only gives us orders and trains us to accomplish them, but who also goes before us each step of the way, executing those orders perfectly on our behalf. As the author of Hebrews put it, Christ is both “the author and perfecter of our faith” (Hebrews 12:2) – the one who plans our operation and the one who carries it out. Like Maverick’s pilots, we are indispensable to our Savior’s plan. Yet, it is his power and presence, not our ability, which guarantees the success of our mission. He knows what’s required, and he has bound himself to us, promising to bring us home alive. Ultimately, we’re along for the ride.

Our Messiah doesn’t coerce or even demand our trust. He earns it. He walks in our shoes, bears our burdens, and dies the death we deserve. Christ alone can handle the full weight of our trust, because he is the only person to shoulder the full weight of our humanity without buckling. Dorothy Sayers said it well in her Letters to a Diminished Church:

For whatever reason God chose to make man as he is – limited and suffering and subject to sickness and death – He had the honesty and courage to take His own medicine. Whatever game He is playing at with His creation, He has kept His own rules and played fair. He can exact nothing from man that He has not exacted from Himself.

Christ isn’t just the lamb on the throne. He’s also the lamb in the cockpit – the pilot who guides us on our way. His obedient flight shows us what leadership was meant to be, but it does much more than that. By the indwelling power of the Holy Spirit, it also becomes our flight – the wind that lifts our wings and keeps us aloft, enabling us to navigate each treacherous twist, turn, and nosedive of our mission. Live Maverick, Jesus pioneers the salvation of those he loves. As we follow in his wake, we will find ourselves agreeing with the words of Andrew Peterson’s song “Pillar of Fire,”

Pillar of Fire, you blaze that trail
You’ve been there every step along that road
From a barn in Bethlehem
To Hell and back again
You blaze the trail that leads me home

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to watch Tom Cruise fly a fighter plane again.