Faithful, Not Frantic

Why good leaders sometimes leave things undone

A measure of chaos is part of any growing church. When growth comes fast, everything happens at once, and not everything gets done. It’s no different than having a new baby, remodeling a house, or rolling out a new system at work. Each forces you to make quick calls and live by clear priorities. Maturity is knowing what matters most in the moment and what can wait.

After a Sunday service, I noticed that one of our lay leaders looked stressed out. We were maybe 14 months or so into planting East River. This guy was a hard worker, but came across as a little worn down or frustrated that afternoon. So I asked him what was wrong. He told me, “There are a lot of balls being dropped.”

“Such as?” I asked.

He listed off several things. I asked, “Who told you to pick those up?”

He said, “Someone had to.”

He wasn’t wrong, but he also wasn’t quite right. I told him the truth: I was very aware of those “balls.” I left them lie where they lay on purpose. I figured that in time, someone with the bandwidth and heart for those areas would step up. I knew I wasn’t that person. I couldn’t juggle anything else without dropping something essential or burning out. In other words, I’d end up just like him: overextended and quietly on the road to bitterness that others weren’t helping.

This is “the snare of the doer.” They see something undone and assume it’s their job to fix it. A doer is a reactionary. He tackles what is in front of him, often, without regard for maintainability. It’s true that leaders must be doers. But a big part of their “doing” is directing and delegating. Otherwise, he takes on what isn’t his and loses focus on what is. Sometimes you have to willfully ignore things... not out of laziness, but because of focus.

In seasons of growth, there are always “dropped” balls. Some will roll around for a while, and that’s okay. You can’t control everything, and you’re not meant to. Faithfulness isn’t about doing everything; it’s about doing your part well.

Life requires the ability to juggle. I can juggle two balls with one hand. I’ve never figured out how to handle three with two. My Great Uncle Dale assured me it was easy. After a couple of hours of trying to teach me, even he admitted that maybe it wasn’t my thing. He was correct. What I can do, though, is move between multiple projects across different domains and switch gears quickly. I sometimes joke that I’ve weaponized my ADHD. I sometimes joke that I’ve weaponized my ADHDDDD, but the truth is, I’ve learned how to use it with a decent clutch.

You’ve got to know what you can juggle, and when you’re pushing past your limits. You’ve got to know how quickly you can shift gears without blowing your clutch. Sometimes you only find that out by overdoing it. I’ve done that plenty of times and had to work hard to pare back to within my margin. For some, my life might look packed; for others, it might seem wide open. We all have different capacities.

The key is to know your own. Don’t project them onto others. Some can carry more; some can’t. That’s fine. What matters is being faithful with what you’ve got. I tell people to push to their max, then pull back about ten or twenty percent. That’s where you want to live. It leaves you room to sprint when needed, but it keeps you from running on fumes.

And this goes for everyone, but especially for those stepping into leadership.