The Weight of Leadership
January 12, 2025
Do You Want a King? That’s the question in our text today from the First Book of Samuel. Last week, we learned that prophets don’t tell the future—they tell consequences. Prophecy is future-oriented, but it’s not a prediction; it’s about the outcomes of current choices.
This Sunday, we read how the elders of Israel demand a king to lead them. This request stemmed from a combination of external pressures, like Philistine aggression documented in chapters 4-7, and internal dissatisfaction with the judgeship system which was the governance model of the time. Judges, chosen from among the people, would interpret the law and tradition to settle disputes. However, as we learn in 1 Samuel 8:1-3, Samuel’s sons, Joel and Abijah, were corrupt judges who “turned aside after dishonest gain and accepted bribes.” Imagine for a moment an lifetime appointment who got caught accepting brides and wealth? Things sure were different then. If we had such a discovery, one would think our system of checks and balances would boot that judge from the court.
Now the system back then was rooted in divine guidance, its success depended on the integrity of individual judges. Some, like Deborah, stood out as remarkable leaders, but many struggled under the weight of leadership. I think, personally, she was the best judge. Deborah’s story is recorded in Judges 4–5. As a prophetess and judge, she was the a great leader filled with wisdom and courage, even leading troops into battle. She even prophesied that the victory would come through a woman—a prophecy fulfilled when Jael drove a tent stake through the temple of a tyrant.
Deborah’s leadership brought 40 years of peace. Her story reminds us that God raises extraordinary leaders regardless of societal norms or expectations. Yet, in today’s text, we find the backdrop of bad leadership: Samuel’s sons abusing their power. They were following a different sort of Golden Rule: “Those with the gold make the rules.” Not a great system.
Samuel warns the elders about the consequences of having a king: conscription, exploitation, and taxation. “Do you really want a king?” he asks. Despite the warnings, the people persist.
This wasn’t God’s plan. God’s plan was for Israel to be a nation of priests, blessing and healing the world. A nation that wouldn’t learn war anymore but would bring peace. But God always invites; God never forces. We can say no to God, though there will be consequences. Still, God is smart enough to adjust the plan. And to be clear, here’s my sense of God’s plan: Love God. Love your neighbor. Enjoy your life—it’s a gift.
But we’re easily conditioned primates. Monkey see, monkey do. “The other nations have a king. Why can’t we?” This comparison game gets us in trouble. We compare our inner life to the outer appearance of others. We judge, but we rarely see the whole story.
I spoke about the dangers of comparison last week. We compare our inner life to what we perceive of others. We might see someone really in shape and compare our holiday pounds to their work. We don’t see these folk getting up at 4 a.m. and working out. We aren’t privy maybe to the anxiety that’s driving their workout program. Maybe a loved one died from a heart-attack at an early age. We judge others by what we see and that’s not even a fraction of the full story.
Samuel feels rejected, but God assures him, “It’s not you they’re rejecting—it’s me.” The desire for a king is an abdication of agency. Instead of trusting in their covenant relationship with God, the Israelites conform to societal norms.
And God allows it. God respects their free will despite the potential consequences. God partners with us, but we are ultimately responsibly for the paths we choose. How often do we do the same, succumbing to peer pressure or conforming at the expense of authentic moral action?
If you’re waiting for a strong leader or savior to fix things, you’re undermining your God-given potential to bring healing and transformation. When Jesus arrives, yes, he performs miracles. But he also calls disciples, teaches them, and sends them out to heal, feed, and love their neighbors. As Jesus says in John 14:12, “Whoever believes in me will do the works that I do, and greater works than these will he do.”
But sometimes, we prefer waiting. Waiting feels safer. Another of my favorite verses is John 6:65-66, people can’t take the challenge of Jesus as they’re too used to the comfort. “‘This teaching is hard! Who can accept it.’ From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him.” Jesus didn’t get 100% of the people, why do we think we can?
People sometimes get used to waiting. Waiting becomes a way of life. As we wait, those who are active take the reins and steer things to what benefits them. Samuel’s warning about the abuses of a king highlights the risks of consolidating power.
We live in a democratic republic. I think of Ben Franklin’s famous response when asked if we had a republic or a monarchy: “A republic, if you can keep it.” Democracy requires active engagement and responsibility. By asking for a king, the Israelites surrendered their moral agency to an authority figure, neglecting their covenantal duty to hold each other accountable. And yet, God allows it. God partners with us but respects our free will. As Deuteronomy 30:14 reminds us, God’s plan isn’t in the sky or in a deep hidden place but “The word is very near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart so you can do it.”
These things Jesus did, we can do—and greater. But too often, we chicken out. We wait for saviors, follow blindly, or burn out because we refuse to share the load. True leadership means lifting together, not waiting for someone else to do the heavy lifting.
Waiting for a savior or king reflects a rejection of God’s call for us to actively engage in our own liberation and the betterment of society. God wants a personal relationship with each of us, where we embrace both individual autonomy and covenantal community. The work of healing the world is ongoing.
To put it in modern terms, comedian Ronny Chieng captures this idea like this: “People say to me, ‘Ronny, I love America! I would die for this country!’ And I believe them. I don’t doubt that passion. That’s admirable. But don’t just die for your country. Learn math for your country. Don’t die for your country—do your homework for your country. Learning and bettering yourself is a better, more efficient way to love your country. Dying is easy. Math is hard.”
Now you know the difference between nationalism and patriotism: Nationalism dies for its country; patriotism lives for it. Likewise, we must move beyond the comfort of tradition. Tradition is the living faith of the dead. Traditionalism, the dead faith of the living. It takes action and change to keep faith alive.
Do you want a king? It’d be easier, but it’s an empty promise. Instead, let’s embrace our agency and community. Let’s build something enduring.
We need one another’s agency. I won’t be your king. I’ll help you into community. I’ll lead you to where I think we need to go. My vision for us simple: a welcoming, loving community that serves. We learn one another’s names through things like the Talent Bank. Through Bible Studies and chili cook offs and cooking for CUPS and checking in with one another. Working on a committee might look like boring work, but better learn it because that’s the only way things change: a small group of people working toward a vision.
With that notion, I have two ideas I want to run by you.
Bruce Bauer and Dick Christy were Property and Grounds for a long time. They did great work on the building to keep it standing. They mentored the current team that’s also doing an amazing job. I am thinking they’re going to need our help. In the next year or two, we’re going to be launching a capital campaign. We’ll need boiler system work, roof work, point up on the brick and mortar, the organ refreshed, and many other projects. It’s been 10 years since y’all did the new entrance. We’re coming up on another one soon. That’s the first idea. If we want to be here for another 200 years, then we’ll need to do this hard work and use our agency.
The second is a little more… wild. During my sabbatical, we went to Wild Goose. It’s like church camp meets Woodstock. The most fun we had was at Beer and Hymns. Each night, the community would gather in a tent with a beverage of choice and sing out old hymns in new ways. Imagine Be Thou My Vision sung like a soccer hooligan song. Or screaming “It is well with my soul” at the top of your lungs.
I need folks who want to sing and play guitar. We won’t have beer and hymns here. We’re a dry campus and I have no intention of changing that. That future location will appear when we’re ready to move, but first we need folks who want to sing and play. We’ll take time to learn and build a set list, and then we’ll find a place to host.
I think these two things will help with our agency as well as our community. Both our autonomy to choose this direction and our covenant community to turn the direction into a destination. I’d love to tilt at these windmills and not let reality get in the way.
All the while, we’ll live our faith. We’ll take care of our neighbor. We’ll do more than just remember our dead, we’ll keep their faith alive. Remembering the dead is easier than assisting the living. We don’t take the easy way. We’re Congregationalists after all. Congregationalist don’t wait for kings. We cross oceans to found new colonies in protest of kings. Do you want a king? NO! Thanks be to God. Amen.
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