I’m Not A Leader

I don’t like being in front of people. I don’t motivate the masses like William Wallace. I’ve never inspired anyone to higher heights because of a rousing speech. In fact, I really don’t even like talking very much.

I’m not a leader, and that’s okay.

I’m a doer.

I don’t like being in front of people. I don’t motivate the masses like William Wallace. I’ve never inspired anyone to higher heights because of a rousing speech. In fact, I really don’t even like talking very much.

I’d rather just sit here, do what you need me to do, and go home knowing I did what was required of me.

Yes, I’m a doer, and I love every minute of it.

Because being a doer as allowed me to be doing what I’m passionate about. It’s allowed me to do exactly what I believe that I’ve been called to do in support of the local church.

I don’t quote John Maxwell and I’m definitely not a team-builder. I have a specialized and unique skill to perform my tasks at a high level of excellence. There’s been lots of training involved for sure, and it pays off each Sunday. I know that it’s not about me, and it really doesn’t bother me if anyone ever notices me. I can program lights on the fly, troubleshoot the network, or rebuild all of the presets on the console after the software crashes.

I can work for hours on any one task, striving to build something from nothing much like a carpenter. Taking a rough block of wood and working it slowly, turning it over in my hand, testing and tweaking, filing and fine-tuning, until that jagged piece of timber becomes a beautiful piece of work. Virtual sound check is my sander and lathe, and I can turn the worst, knot-filled strip of pitchy-ness into an angelic chorus.

I may not be a leader, but I am a craftsman.

Now, most have probably never heard of him, but an Old Testament character named Bezalel was pretty widely regarded as the first master craftsman when the Lord called him to build the first tabernacle for Israel after their exodus from Egypt.

Then the Lord said to Moses,“Look, I have specifically chosen Bezalel . . . I have filled him with the Spirit of God, giving him great wisdom, ability, and expertise in all kinds of crafts. He is a master craftsman, expert in working with gold, silver, and bronze. He is skilled in engraving and mounting gemstones and in carving wood. He is a master at every craft! “And I have personally appointed Oholiab . . . to be his assistant. Moreover, I have given special skill to all the gifted craftsmen so they can make all the things I have commanded you to make . . .” (Exodus 31:1-6 NLT)

Notice how these men are described in this passage: wise, able, experts in all kinds of crafts, skilled. The NIV translation also says they were given understanding and knowledge. Forget craftsman! I think it sounds like a description of me, your average church tech guy.

God blessed me with the gift to create and build things. To use divinely-appointed passion and skill to take complicated things and make them simple. To use my knowledge and ability to help create an atmosphere of worship and a place where God’s presence can dwell.

I’m a doer. I’m a craftsman. But it doesn’t stop there.

Everything in God’s Earthly kingdom is based on a process of reproduction and replication. Be fruitful and multiply. Go and make disciples. Otherwise things would just die out after the first generation, right?

It was the same for Bezalel and Oholiab. If they were the only ones who knew how to build anything, then future Israelite generations would have never known how to build the temple in Jerusalem.

And it’s the same for me! If I’m the only one who knows how to do what I do at my church, then what happens when I’m on vacation, or sick, or move away because of my full-time job?

Exodus 35:34 (NLT) has the answer: “And the Lord has given both [Bezalel] and Oholiab . . . the ability to teach their skills to others.”

Talent is not a standalone gift. My specialized skill was given to me so that I could teach it to other people and thus allow that expertise to subsist through multiple generations. In essence, because the skill and the ability to teach were both bestowed as intertwined gifts, there’s also an inherent expectation that I pass my skills along to someone else.

So regardless of whether I can rally the troops like Patton, surely I can inspire just one person to do what I do. That’s all I need to do. And the ability to do it is already inside of me.

I know I’m not a leader.

But I am a doer. And a craftsman. And a teacher.