Leadership: It’s Not What You Think
Reclaiming Leadership
If we’re going to take Jesus seriously—and not just the sanitized, system-approved version of Him—we have to deal with the simple but inconvenient fact that He didn’t come to establish an empire, an institution, or a hierarchy.
He came to blow up our religious scaffolding, burn the boundaries people erected, and laugh in the face of every attempt to make the kingdom of God a top-down operation.
And yet, here we are, centuries later, still dealing with earnest people trying to turn the Church into a leadership pyramid—clinging to a model that looks more like Rome than the ragtag band of nobodies Jesus started with.
A Divine Misdirection
The New Testament’s take on “leadership” is, at best, a divine misdirection. The word itself is mostly missing from the biblical narrative, and when it does show up, it’s hardly what we expect.
If leadership was meant to be the backbone of the Church, you’d think Jesus would have spent more time sketching out 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 leading sheep as if you somehow rose above being one. It’s about serving fellow sheep to the point of absurdity.
So how did we end up with celebrity pastors, hierarchical power structures, and church leadership conferences with $500 tickets? Somewhere along the way, we swapped Jesus’ vision for a boardroom model, mistaking efficiency and effectiveness for faithfulness.
But the Scriptures stubbornly refuse to endorse our business-model approach to the Church.
Elders, Deacons, and the Illusion of Authority
Let’s talk about the big, scary church words: elders, deacons, pastors, overseers. Surely, these prove that leadership in the Church is a thing, and that it must be in place from day one, right?
Well, not exactly.
When Paul leaves Philippi, the entire Jesus movement there consists of a rich lady who sold ink, a Roman jailer fresh off suicide watch, and a teenage girl who just got free from demon possession. That’s it.
And yet, years later, this ragtag crew led to a letter—Philippians—that begins with: “To all the saints (believers) in Christ Jesus who are at Philippi, with overseers and deacons.”
How can that be? Because these various roles are not what they have been turned into over the Centuries:
Deacons (Acts 6:1-7) were literally food distributors, not spiritual overlords. The Church, a word that describes a global movement of frail people—not a place, needed to make sure the widows weren’t getting shafted in the meal line, so they appointed some waiters to handle it. That’s it. There’s no indication that this was meant to be a forever role in every expression of the Church, or a stepping stone to something bigger.
Elders (1 Timothy 3, Titus 1) were simply everyday believers in the community who “were appointed” (Titus 1:5)—in some expressions of the Church that were 2-3 years old. They weren’t trained for a role—the work they were already doing was simply recognized. Unlike CEOs, their “leadership” was entirely about guiding others toward the scandalous grace of Christ—not about managing budgets or filling seats.
Pastors? The modern idea of a singular “pastor” running a church is nowhere in the Bible. Ephesians 4:11 mentions “pastors” (plural), but the word is a reference to elders who were shepherding people in the everyday, not standing on a stage. The early Church didn’t have a guy in a fancy robe delivering a polished message once a week. It had a movement of people teaching, encouraging, and serving one another in a messy, beautiful, organic way.
Even in Hebrews, where “leaders” are mentioned (Hebrews 13:7, 17), the emphasis is on those who were living bay faith—not on those with a title. And that’s the rub: Biblical leadership isn’t about control. It’s about being the kind of person whose life naturally invites others to trust Jesus.
And that, is what EVERY believer was called to do in Matthew 28:19-20.
The Death of the Guru Complex
One of the biggest obstacles to reimagining leadership in the Church is our addiction to gurus. We want anointed men and women to tell us what to do, how to think, and where to go. We crave certainty, and we’d rather outsource our spiritual journey to an expert than stumble our way through faith ourselves.
But Jesus isn’t interested in propping up spiritual celebrities. His entire ministry was a relentless assault on that idea or a structured order from a few. He didn’t choose the well-spoken, the educated, or the influential. He chose fishermen, tax collectors, and misfits. And He didn’t tell them to build a leadership pipeline—He told them to love people, serve the least, and die to the need to be important.
That’s why the New Testament constantly circles back to the idea that every single believer is a priest (1 Peter 2:5). There’s no special class of Christians with a hotline to God. If you’re looking for a leader, you already have one: Jesus. The rest of us are just figuring this out together.
Letting Leadership Be Simple
If we’re serious about reclaiming Jesus’ vision for the Church, we have to be willing to burn down the pre-packaged ideas of leadership borrowed from the business world. We have to let go of the idea that church needs sermons, stages, and superstar pastors. We have to stop looking for the next big voice to follow and start looking to Jesus, who has already given us everything we need.
The early Church didn’t thrive because of strong top-down leadership. It thrived because of friendship, faith, and the unshakable reality that Jesus is enough. If we want to see the Church come alive again, we don’t need more leaders—we need more people who are willing to live as friends, who point one another to the ridiculous grace of God. This is what Jesus did, and told us to do (Matt 28).
So here’s the question:
What if we stopped trying to lead and started learning how to simply be?
What if the Church’s greatest need isn’t better leadership, but a deeper trust in the One who never needed it to begin with?