THE PHOENIX ASCENDS: RAISING OTHERS TO RISE TOO

Legacy. Multiplication. Fire that Spreads.

Chapter 7 "Born from Fire" by Alx Luxmanov

The closing chapter.

Themes:

• Leadership is measured by who rises after you

• Creating leaders, not followers

• Succession

• Cultural DNA

• How spiritual fire is passed down

• Turning your team into a remnant that shapes the future

• From ashes to ascension: a leader reborn, reproducing rebirth in others.

THE PHOENIX ASCENDS: RAISING OTHERS TO RISE

There comes a moment in the life of every leader when the story stops being about them. It does not happen suddenly. It is not dramatic or loud. It arrives quietly, like the sunrise sliding across the horizon, unnoticed until it has already filled the room with light. This moment is the turning point from which there is no return. It is the moment when a person realizes the true measure of leadership is not how high they have climbed but how many people they have lifted. It is the moment when the Phoenix stops rising for itself and begins rising for others.

Everything up to this point—the identity restored in ashes, the discipline forged in fire, the shepherd’s heart matured through compassion, the responsibility accepted as a sacred anointing, the remnant resilience born from faithful endurance, the creativity and marketplace calling breathed into your soul—all of it has been leading here. You were not shaped just to stand. You were shaped to raise others.

A leader who rises alone is only half-born. A leader who rises so that others may rise is the one who completes the journey. The true Phoenix is not the one who escapes the fire; it is the one who carries others through their own flames.

There is an ache inside the heart of every real leader, a holy restlessness that does not let them settle for their own success. They begin to look at people differently—not as burdens or responsibilities but as stories God has entrusted to their care. Every person becomes a seed of potential. Every heart becomes a landscape of divine possibility. Every life becomes ground where God desires to plant purpose. And the leader becomes a gardener who waters dreams.

This is the shift every mature leader must face: greatness is not measured in achievements but in inheritance. It is not measured in applause but in the stories of those who grew because of you. A person can build a brand, a company, a platform, or even an empire. But only a leader can build people. And building people is the only work that lasts beyond death.

Jesus did not write books. He wrote people. He etched truth into their character. He placed courage into their hearts. He gave them power, authority, wisdom, vision. His legacy is not a monument but a movement—a fire that began in twelve ordinary men and now burns across nations, languages, and centuries. That is the power of raising others. It outlives you. It multiplies you. It turns your life into a seed that keeps producing fruit beyond your lifetime.

Scripture gives us this vision in simple words: “The things you have heard from me… entrust to faithful people who will be able to teach others also.” That is legacy. That is succession. That is leadership. Four generations in one verse. Never just one. Never isolated. Always multiplying.

A leader who does not raise others arrests the future. A leader who invests in people releases it.

There is a subtle lie that some leaders fall into—the belief that their rise is the point of it all. But any rise that ends with you is too small for God. God does not give influence so that you may shine alone. He gives influence so that you may ignite others. God does not bless you to make you comfortable. He blesses you to make you a blessing. “Freely you have received; freely give.” The unselfishness of this truth is the heartbeat of every great leader.

Raising others requires courage and patience and humility. It requires trusting that God will continue to elevate you even as you elevate others. It requires the wisdom to see potential long before potential sees itself. It requires the heart of a shepherd, the discipline of a builder, the responsibility of a steward, the resilience of the remnant, and the creativity of a Kingdom innovator. In other words—it requires everything the previous chapters prepared you to carry.

There is a beautiful moment in the book of Acts when Peter and John stand before a man who cannot walk. The man expects money. The apostles do not give him money; they give him capacity. “What I have I give you… rise and walk.” Every leader reaches a point where they must decide whether to hand people temporary relief or permanent transformation. Money is relief. Advice is relief. Encouragement is relief. But empowerment—that is transformation. Empowerment says, “I do not want you to depend on me. I want you to rise with me.”

When a leader empowers someone, the relationship changes. It becomes larger than one person. It becomes larger than one story. It becomes a chain of rising that stretches forward into generations yet to be born. Scripture says “One generation shall praise Your works to another and declare Your mighty acts.” Leadership is generational. It must stretch beyond your lifespan. It must break the limits of your years. It must travel through those you have built.

A certain wisdom begins to form in leaders who commit to raising others. They stop seeing people as threats. They stop competing with the ones they mentor. They find joy in seeing others rise higher than themselves. They want their ceiling to become someone else’s floor. They want the next generation to take the fire higher, wider, deeper than they ever could. A leader who is threatened by rising talent has not understood the Kingdom. In the Kingdom, success is not addition—it is multiplication.

Consider Jesus again. “You will do greater works than these,” He said. No insecurity. No competition. No fear. Only confidence in the people He raised. That is the blueprint. The leader must believe in their successors more deeply than those successors believe in themselves.

And yet, lifting others is not always glamorous. Sometimes it looks like walking patiently beside someone in their weakness, believing in them when they cannot believe in themselves, carrying them in prayer, giving them wisdom they did not earn, forgiving them through immaturity, seeing potential where others see problems. Sometimes it looks like being misunderstood by the very people you are trying to raise. Sometimes it looks like pouring into people who will never thank you. Sometimes it looks like planting seeds in soil that seems unresponsive—trusting that growth will come later, even if you never get to watch it sprout. A leader loves without condition because God loves without condition.

There is a profound mystery in raising others: the more you give, the more God increases you. The more you pour, the more He fills. The more you elevate others, the higher He takes you. “Whoever refreshes others will be refreshed.” That is not poetry—it is law. God enlarges the leader who enlarges His people.

The final transformation of a leader happens when they realize their life is not their own. Jesus said, “Unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains alone. But if it dies, it produces much fruit.” This scripture is not about physical death. It is about dying to self-importance. Dying to being the center. Dying to needing credit. Dying to needing recognition. Dying to needing to be the hero of your own story. When a leader dies in this way, they rise in others. They become immortal—not in name, but in impact.

This is the calling of the Phoenix. Not to rise once, but to raise many. Not to escape the flames alone, but to teach others how to walk through fire without fear. Not to be admired, but to be multiplied. A Phoenix leader is not defined by the heights they reach but by the flames they pass on to the next generation.

And that is where your story has been heading. The moment you realized your identity was forged in ashes. The moment you chose discipline over emotion. The moment you chose compassion over control. The moment you accepted responsibility as a crown. The moment you stood when others sat. The moment you created with heaven instead of for applause. All of it was preparing you for this: you are called to build others. You are called to light fires in places covered in shadows. You are called to be the reason someone else rises.

There will come a time—soon—when someone will credit you for saving their life without you ever knowing you did. Someone will look to you not because of your success but because of your stability. Someone will model their leadership after yours. Someone will treat people the way you treated them. Someone will find courage because they watched you endure. Someone will rise because you decided to rise.

And one day, when your time is done, your legacy will not be numbers or achievements or applause. It will be people. People who bear your fire. People who carry your wisdom. People who walk in the identity you helped them discover. People who lead with the compassion you modeled. People who build with the discipline you lived. People who rise with the resilience you demonstrated. People who create with the freedom you unlocked.

This is the true ascension of the Phoenix. Not rising alone. Rising in others.

When you understand this, you have become a leader in the fullest sense of the word—not because you reached the top, but because you refused to rise alone.

This is your destiny now. This is your mantle. This is your inheritance. This is your calling.

Raise others. Lift them. Believe in them. Multiply them. Ignite them.

And when they rise, you rise again— this time forever.