From Control to Connection

Stepping into the life of faith beyond what has been labeled “church” can be a real fear. Because most of us weren’t just told to follow Jesus—we were told to follow someone following Jesus. 

And somewhere along the way, that someone became a formal role, a job title, a person on a stage with a mic and a plan.

But contrary to popular belief, the word “leadership” is mostly missing from the New Testament. And when it does show up, it’s hardly what we expect.

If leadership were meant to be the backbone of the Church, you’d think Jesus would’ve spent more time sketching org charts and less time washing feet.

Instead, He says in Luke 22:26:

“The greatest among you should be like the youngest, and the one who rules like the one who serves.”

Translation?

Leadership isn’t about rising above the sheep. It’s about being one of them—down in the mud, handing out grace like free bread.

It’s a divine misdirection. Not because guidance is bad, but because the Spirit doesn’t need managing.

Still, we couldn’t resist turning the sheepfold into a chain of command.
And few verses have been more misused to keep that hierarchy intact than Hebrews 13:17:

“Obey your leaders and submit to them…”

Sounds serious, doesn’t it?
Almost militaristic.
Like we all need to join a formal church—or risk spiritual disaster.

But hold the music and look closer.

The Greek word translated “obey” here is πείθομαι (peithōmai)—which, surprise, doesn’t mean blind obedience to someone. It means to be persuaded by someone you know and trust.

It’s relational, not authoritarian. It’s what happens when someone shows you something about Jesus worth following.

And “submit”? The word is ὑπείκω (hypeikō)—used exactly once in the entire New Testament. It literally means to yield, to give way. Think freeway onramp, not forced allegiance.

It’s not something you do because you're told to—it’s something you want to do when the truth someone speaks rings like freedom in your bones.

And even then—it’s not a box to check. It’s a possibility.

Paul never says, “Go find a leader and submit.” He says, “Follow me as I follow Christ” (1 Cor. 11:1)—which is just another way of saying:

If I ever stop trusting Jesus, stop following me.

But what about elders, deacons, pastors, overseers? 

Aren’t they proof that some people are supposed to lead—and the rest of us are supposed to follow?”

Fair question. But this is where the case gets fun.

Because once you look past the centuries of institutional spin, you’ll see those titles weren’t about superiority. They were footnotes—descriptions of everyday people doing ordinary things to help others trust Jesus.

And once we strip away the scaffolding religion added, something beautiful reappears: 

“You are a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God…” (1 Corinthians 6:19).

Which means you're part of “the holy priesthood”—right where you are in life (1 Peter 2:5).

So with that in mind, let’s talk about what those church words really mean.

Take Philippi, for example. When Paul first left town, the entire Jesus-movement  consisted of:

• A businesswoman who sold purple ink,

• A Roman jailer fresh off a suicide attempt,

• And a teenage girl recently freed from a demon.

And yet—years later—Paul writes a letter to this same group and opens with:

“To all the saints in Christ Jesus who are at Philippi, with overseers and deacons.” (Phil. 1:1)

How did we get from chaos to clergy?

Simple: we didn’t.

Those titles didn’t create the Church. They simply described what had already emerged—because everyday people believed they were priests, passed on the relief of grace, and others did the same.

So what are these “overseers” Paul mentions? 

The word sounds heavy, official—like someone holding a clipboard with your name on it.

But in the first-century world, overseers were elders—a word for trusted members of a community. Gray hair wasn’t required—just faith, kindness, and wisdom.

When Paul sent Timothy and Titus to “appoint elders” (Titus 1:5), he wasn’t installing a needed hierarchy. He was naming what grace had already grown in expressions of the Church that were 2-3 years old.

People were already helping others trust Jesus. The “appointment” was just saying, Yep. That’s what leadership is.

Where do pastors fit into this? The word shows up in Ephesians 4:11—once—and even then, it’s plural (note that). So no, the modern idea of a singular “pastor” running an organization is nowhere in the Bible. 

Instead, the word is just Greek for what a shepherd does—lives among the sheep, mends wounds, smells like the flock.

Which means the “pastors” in Ephesians 4 weren’t a job title. They were everyday elders who offered presence.

And what about deacons?

They first appear in Acts 6. But these weren’t church bosses. They were food servers. Literally.

There was a problem: certain widows weren’t getting fed fairly.

So what did the apostles—people who walked with Jesus Himself—do?
They found some trustworthy folks and said, “Can you make sure everyone gets lunch?”

That’s it. No ceremony. No ordination. No title bump.
Just faithful service at the table.

And there’s no sign that this role was meant to become a required work wherever the Church is. It met a need, in a place, at a time. That’s what grace does—it adapts.

But What About The Warning? 

What do we do with James 3:1—the bit about teachers getting “judged” more strictly? Sounds like a warning label slapped on anyone foolish enough to talk about God. 

So before you feel the need to take a vow of silence, know this: James isn’t issuing some divine gag order. He’s just stating the obvious—teaching is messy. Step into the spotlight, and people will always have opinions—good, bad, and weird.

But here’s the kicker: we’re all called to “teach” others (Matt. 28:18–20). Not as experts, but as fellow fools who’ve stumbled onto grace.

And yes, there’s accountability (Heb. 13:7)—
but it’s to the message of God’s scandalous grace, not to managing people we can’t control (and were never told to).

So Who’s Leading Where You Are?

Turns out… you are.
Not because you’ve got it all together, but because Jesus does.

And He’s still in the business of using ordinary people—not professionals—who pass the bread and point to grace.

So let the “church leaders” keep their lanyards.
You’ve got better things to do.

Like trusting Jesus, living free,
and helping others do the same.