I’ve always loved sports. I’ve played many and still do. From the cinematic nostalgia of Field of Dreams to the pulse-pounding electricity of Friday Night Lights, sports have shaped how I see teamwork, competition, and growth.
One event that’s always captivated me—even though I never ran it—is the 4×100 meter relay. It’s one of the most thrilling events in sports, not only for the speed but for one crucial element: the baton pass. That small handoff can make or break the race. It requires coordination, trust, and countless hours of practice.
As one coach put it, “A successful baton exchange needs to be intentional and precise. It requires both runners to keep moving forward, stay within their lanes, and time the handoff perfectly. The passing can’t be too early or too long. It’s an intricate balance built on thousands of repetitions.”
If you want to see this in action, watch the 2008 Olympic 4×100 final between the U.S. and Jamaica. Then watch it again—just the baton passes.
In January 2025, I passed the Lighthouse Institute baton to my teammates, Josh Donovan and Chris Ferree. We began practicing that handoff a year earlier, in January 2024. I assumed I’d need little practice—it was “my company,” after all. Surely, they were the ones who needed to buckle up for the transition, right?
Wrong.
It turns out I was the one who needed all the practice. Letting go of something you’ve built from scratch—something you’ve poured your heart and soul into—is a tall, tall order. I wasn’t prepared for the emotional rollercoaster. Anger, frustration, sadness, loss of meaning… It hit me hard. And through it all, I tried to play it cool. I’m sure Josh and Chris noticed—but out of respect, they didn’t call me out.
Many of you know I have a deep personal faith. My number one core value is the Pursuit of Truth. That value—and my faith—are why Lighthouse Institute exists at all. And about seven months ago, in the middle of a silent temper tantrum over perceived changes Josh and Chris were making (Why would you change something that’s perfect?! You wouldn’t), a quiet thought entered my mind & heart:
“Tim, this isn’t your baby. You’re a steward of Lighthouse Institute—not its owner.”
That one shift changed everything.
To be a steward is to care for something with responsibility and love, knowing it was never truly yours to begin with. That realization lifted the weight. It let me release the internal war I’d been waging.
Now, as Chris and Josh step into their roles as stewards of Lighthouse Institute, I couldn’t be more grateful—or more at peace. I get to hand them the baton in what Simon Sinek calls The Infinite Game.
Sinek’s book reminds us that life and leadership aren’t about winning or losing—they’re about staying in the game, evolving, and building something that outlasts us. I’d add this: the infinite game invites us to move from possession to contribution, from control to grateful stewardship.
Lighthouse Institute is playing in the infinite game. What a gift to be part of something that matters—something bigger than any one person. I am overflowing with gratitude for the chance to pass the baton.
A special shoutout to Josh Donovan and Chris Ferree whom share my passion, values and purpose for LI. I could not have found two more perfect team members: Character and Competence abound.
It has been one of the great honors of my life to run this race. And now, I’m cheering from the sidelines—full of faith, full of hope, and full of gratitude.
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By Tim Rhoades, Former Steward of Lighthouse Institute
