While I’ve written extensively about the numerous benefits of servant leadership, I’m compelled to also share some of the challenges leaders face after they move away from command and control and toward servant leadership.

On the one hand, to become a true servant leader, one must have the ability, experience, patience and willingness to actively listen, empathize and empower. On the other hand, a servant leader can’t be seen as namby-pamby

Namby-pamby refers to something that lacks character or substance, often appearing insipid or weak.

The origin of this whimsical term dates back to the 18th century, when poets Alexander Pope and Henry Carey mocked Ambrose Philips. Philips’ sentimental verses were deemed childish and simple, leading Carey to coin the rhyming nickname namby-pamby. Later, the term was applied more broadly to anything insipidly precious or anyone considered weak or indecisive.

After giving hundreds of talks favoring servant leadership, I’m amazed there are still some who deem this type of leadership style namby-pamby. Nothing could be further from the truth. At the core of leadership lies the sacred trust, duty and responsibility to exercise authority, make decisions and — yes — hold people accountable.

In response to those namby-pamby naysayers, think of servant leadership in terms of a respected elder you’ve had in your life. A family member, teacher or coach.

I like to use my dad as my model. To this day, I can’t walk into a room wearing a hat out of respect for my dad. I open doors for people. When I notice, I try to help the downtrodden. I learned many long-lasting and, dare I say, endearing behaviors from my dad.

But disobey him? No way. I knew my boundaries. My brothers and sister knew his boundaries.

Given the current unrest on college campuses across the country today, let me set a stark and abject example of how this really hits home.

My brothers and I were snot-nosed teen-agers during the Vietnam War in the 1960s. Tent cities sprouted across the country as part of war protests. I can still hear my own voice yelling, “Hell no, we won’t go.”

During one hot summer evening in 1970, my brothers and I thought we were doing right by joining the protests. My dad had just returned from a tour in Vietnam and, as a member of the Colorado National Guard, his unit was called on by the governor to monitor the situation at the University of Denver.

The last thing I remembered before high-tailing it home with my brothers was this steel-gray-eyed master sergeant cutting through us. I’ll never forget that look. I’ll never forget the fact we never needed to speak of it again. He never raised his voice. He never outwardly showed his distain. But we knew we crossed a line.

My old man wasn’t namby-pamby. He wasn’t a screamer. He was, in my humble opinion,  the quintessential servant leader. He went,  did his job, came home, lived a good life and set one heck of an example. The only thing he ever really shared with us about his war years — he also fought in World War II — was that his duty was to God first, family second, friends third and the rest he’d help as he could. He served God, family and friends.

If you encounter something you believe  lacks substance or seems overly sentimental, you might call it namby-pamby. I call it servant leadership.