It’s funny how leadership opportunities sometimes don’t wait for permission — they simply show up and call your name.
I remember the first year I started working on a race car. It felt like drinking from a fire hydrant. I had solid mechanical know-how, but tuning a car to handle exactly the way a driver wanted? That was a whole different discipline. For context, this was a late-model stock team at a local track — but to us, it felt like Daytona.
Two races into joining the team, we found ourselves back at the track on another long Saturday, preparing for that night’s race. This was where the real work happened. Multiple practice sessions, constant adjustments, responding to track conditions — it was all hands on deck.
We qualified well. As race time approached, each member of the team put on a headset connected to the radio so we could communicate during the race. That night, we had a new spotter — the person perched high above the track, serving as another set of eyes for the driver.
I remember what happened next like it was yesterday.
The spotter keyed up and asked, “Driver, are you ready?”
“Yes sir,” the driver replied.
Then came the question that changed everything.
“Crew Chief… is the team ready?”
Silence.
In our eagerness to work on the car, we had never clearly defined roles. And in that moment, I felt every set of eyes turn toward me. One by one, the guys started motioning — you answer it.
With a shaky voice, I keyed the mic and said, “We are ready.”
Just like that, I stepped into leadership.
I felt completely unqualified for the responsibility I had just accepted. And yet, I knew — deep down — it was a call I couldn’t ignore. Answering that simple question put me on an unexpected path during my racing years. Looking back now, I can’t help but smile at how much I didn’t know.
But there was one resolve that couldn’t be taken away:
I would show up, learn, and lead humbly to the best of my ability.
Now, a racing story in a spiritual study might seem like a stretch — but stay with me.
There was no way I was ready for that role on my own merit. But I was willing to answer the call. And I’ve learned that God is far more interested in our willingness to obey than in any qualification we think we’ve earned.
We see this pattern over and over in Scripture. The men God called rarely felt ready. They felt inadequate, unworthy, and uncertain — yet we still talk about them today because they had the courage to say yes to what God placed in front of them.
One of the enemy’s most effective strategies to keep men from leading is getting us to disqualify ourselves before the game even begins.
We tell ourselves we don’t know the Bible well enough to lead our families.
We think we’re not good at praying, so we avoid praying with our wives.
We believe our past is too messy for God to redeem.
But from what I can tell in Scripture, if you find yourself saying, “I’m not qualified, Lord,” you may be in the perfect posture for God to do something remarkable in your life.
So picture this:
God keys up the mic and asks, “Are you ready to lead?”
What are you going to say?
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