By Russ Johnson
The question always comes eventually.
Usually not out loud.
Usually in the pause after someone says,
this is what I want my life to look like,
and then goes quiet.
Because somewhere
underneath the wanting
is a story they've been carrying.
That's the person God uses.
Not me.
I'm not qualified for this.
It's worth asking
where that story came from.
Because it didn't come from Jesus.
The word leadership is mostly missing
from the New Testament.
Not reduced.
Missing.
Instead, he said this:
"The greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves." (Luke 22:26)
He wasn't lowering the bar for leaders.
He was dismantling the category.
Which is not
what most people were shown.
Most people were shown a stage.
A title with a lanyard or a collar.
And they took one look at that and decided
the whole thing wasn't for them.
This isn't a new problem.
Israel wanted a king.
Not because they were rebellious.
Because they were anxious.
God said:
I am your king. Walk with me.
They said:
Yes but we need something we can see.
So God gave them
what they asked for. (1 Sam 8:7)
And it went the way it always goes
when you trade trust for something manageable.
The institution that built itself
around a singular
visible leader at the center
wasn't invented by the church.
It was inherited from the same anxiety
that asked for a king in the first place.
Same reach.
Different century.
Same result.
Which is hard to question
when people are quoting Hebrews 13:17:
"Obey your leaders and submit to them."
Sounds serious.
Like everyone needs to find
a chain of command
or risk going spiritually rogue.
But the word obey is peithōmai.
Which doesn't mean blind compliance
to someone holding authority over you.
It means to be persuaded
by someone you know and trust.
It's relational.
Not authoritarian.
It's what happens
when someone you respect
shows you something about Jesus
worth following.
And the word submit is hypeikō.
It appears exactly once
in the entire New Testament.
It means to yield or give way.
Not forced allegiance.
Just the natural movement
toward someone whose life rings true.
Because Paul never says:
go find a leader and comply.
He says:
“follow me as I follow Christ.” (1 Cor 11:1)
Which is another way of saying:
if I ever stop trusting Jesus as our only hope,
stop listening to me.
But what about elders, pastors,
overseers, and deacons?
Surely those prove the point.
Some people are supposed to lead.
The rest are supposed to follow.
Except once you look past the centuries
of institutional scaffolding,
those titles weren't about hierarchy.
They were descriptions of ordinary people
helping others trust Jesus.
Overseers were just elders —
a word for trusted community members
long before the church existed.
Gray hair wasn't required.
Just faith, presence, and the kind of wisdom
that comes from someone who has let grace
do its work on them.
When Paul sent Timothy and Titus
to appoint elders
in areas where the church
had already been gathering
for two-three years,
he wasn't installing a needed hierarchy
into a leaderless vacuum.
He was telling them
to point at the people
who were discipling others
and say: that's what this life looks like.
The appointment wasn't a promotion.
It was a recognition.
The word pastor shows up
once in the New Testament.
Even there, it's plural. (Eph 4:11)
The modern idea
of a singular pastor running things
is found nowhere in the Scriptures.
Pastors are just elders
who care for people.
Not to do the caring for everyone.
But so everyone learns to do the same.
(Eph 4:12-13)
And deacons?
Their first appearance is in Acts 6.
As food servers.
Which is actually what the word means.
Diakonos — servant.
One who waits on tables.
At the time in Jerusalem
certain widows weren't getting fed fairly.
So they found
some trustworthy people
and said: can you make sure everyone
gets lunch today?
That’s it.
Grace adapts.
It always has.
Which brings us back to the person
who wants to do something meaningful
but doesn't think they qualify.
"You are a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you." (1 Cor 6:19)
Not the person on the stage.
You.
"You are a chosen people, a royal priesthood." (1 Peter 2:9)
Not the ordained.
You.
Which means the question was never
whether you were qualified.
The question is whether you believe
what is already true about you.
The early church
didn't wait for permission.
They just went first.
Which is the whole definition.
Leadership is influence.
And influence doesn't come from position.
It comes from whoever goes first.
The first person to show up
when someone texts at midnight —
that's leadership.
The first person to say
I don't have it together either,
but here's what's been holding me —
that's leadership.
Not because they had something
no one else had.
Because they went first.
Ask the women in the room.
“Women should remain silent in churches. They are not allowed to speak, but must be in submission, as the law says." (1 Cor 14:34)
Sounds clear.
Except two chapters earlier
Paul assumes women
will pray and speak publicly.
He doesn't debate it.
He just addresses how.
Because there's no Scriptural law
prohibiting women from speaking,
which means the law reference Paul used
points toward something local
rather than universal.
The best read is a disruption problem.
Women and men
sat on opposite sides of the room
in that culture.
Some women
were apparently shouting questions
across to their husbands mid-service.
Paul says hold it until you get home.
That's not a ceiling.
That's a seating chart problem.
Because here’s the thing.
Phoebe gets two leadership titles
in the same verse.
Diakonos —
the same word Paul uses for himself.
And prostatis —
patron, protector,
one who stands before others. (Rom 16:2)
That’s not the language you use
for someone running the hospitality table.
Priscilla repeatedly shows up
in the Scriptures
before her husband Aquila.
In the ancient world
that's not a clerical error.
That's how you tell your reader
who the more prominent figure is.
Junia gets called outstanding
among the apostles in Romans 16:7.
And for centuries,
translators quietly changed her name
to Junias —
a male name that doesn't appear
once in ancient literature.
The female name Junia?
All over the place.
Someone decided the text needed fixing.
The text didn't need fixing.
The assumption did.
Philip had four daughters who spoke
when the church gathered. (Acts 21:9)
Luke mentions it like he's noting the weather.
No footnote walking it back.
So the engine that needs a credential
before it will move.
Jesus never asked for any of that.
Instead , he asked eleven disciples
who had just failed him royally
to go first.
He used a businesswoman,
a jailer,
and a teenager girl
to start a movement in a Roman empire
that recognized none of them. (Acts 16)
The list goes on.
You don't need a plan
more sophisticated than:
I found something worth tasting,
and I think you should taste it too.
That's all leadership ever was.
Someone has to go first.
It might as well be you.