told him I had heard a whisper that day. Sometimes the Spirit of God is a loud wind, but other days He is just a still, small voice. And that voice reminded me that when I was nineteen years old and volunteering in the high school group at my church, a youth pastor named Jamie Barr let me make mistakes and messes, and he discipled me when I needed direction and guidance and training. He slowed down, pulled beside me, taught me, listened to me, and let me take off.
That was the only reminder I needed. I was reminded of Jamie Barr and I was grateful. And gratitude freed me to do the same for someone else.
One of the best gifts you can give to new leaders as you develop them is the freedom to learn from you, and then to do things their own way. Much damage has been done to new leaders when older, more seasoned ones insist on clones. I have seen too many young leaders who look disturbingly like mini-me versions of their mentors. There is a delicate dance between imparting the wisdom you have gained from experience and trying to mold someone else into your own likeness.
The writer of 1 Samuel captures this tension beautifully in chapter 17. The army of Israel is stationed on the edge of a ravine, holding ground but not advancing against the Philistines. On the other side is Goliath, spokesman-elect by virtue of his size and strength. In a loud, taunting voice, Goliath mocks the Israelites for their cowardice and invites someone—anyone—to come forward and fight him, proving which is the stronger army and nation, and therefore who follows the bigger and better God.
Israel’s army is nearly paralyzed by Goliath’s presence, and David, who has been sent to deliver news and food to his brothers, is simply mortified that no one is doing anything. He can’t believe they are allowing this bully to verbally abuse their God, and insists that he be allowed to stand up against the giant.
It seems, from reading this passage, that there is a tremendous undercurrent here. Sure, King Saul is probably a bit embarrassed by David’s suggestion of action in the face of his own passive attitude, but he also finds him amusing, perhaps even scrappy. David is a nice diversion, someone to take everyone’s minds off the fear-inducing Goliath.
But after laughing at him, Saul sees that David is not to be dissuaded, so he humors him. Okay, sure, little guy, I admire your spunk. Here, if you insist on going after the giant, at least let me lend you my protective gear. I have a helmet and a sword, chest armor and a shield. They’re a little big, but that’s because they belong to me, and I am big and you are not. But you will need them, so here, let me help you get that on over your head.
Perhaps those who are watching snicker at the ludicrous sight of David clomping and tromping and stumbling and tripping in the heavy metal protection. But David is more focused on conserving his energy to defend the God of Israel. In 1 Samuel 17:39, we see him stop and say, with great clarity and courage: “I cannot go in these . . . because I am not used to them.”
From a strategic point of view, that might possibly be one of the stupidest responses in the Bible. Inexperienced and ill-equipped, David chooses to remove the protective armor. The armor worked for Saul, but it would only be a burden for David, hampering his movements. David decides to stick with what he knows. He grabs his shepherd’s staff and sling, and picks up five smooth stones from the river, stones just like the ones he had used to kill bears and lions that had threatened his sheep. David chooses to fight Goliath as the shepherd God has made him to be, not as the soldier-king that Saul is.
The rest of the story speaks for itself, but it is easy tomiss the courage it took for David to say, “I cannot go in these because I am not used to them.”
I guess the question for those of us who do leadership development is this: Do we have the courage to make room for people to do it their
Dan Bigley, Debra McKinney