Tag: faith

I’ll Be Your Moses if You’ll Be My Aaron

joshLeave a comment

Let me begin with a disclaimer: the title is a bit tongue-in-cheek. I’m not trying to prove that Moses was an introvert and Aaron was an extrovert. The purpose of the title is simply to highlight how their God-ordained partnership accomplished something neither could have done alone.

That said, Moses’ initial response to God’s call (Exodus 3–4) does resemble what many of us introverts experience when asked to lead: hesitation, resistance, and a preference for obscurity. Moses even says, “Please send someone else” (Exodus 4:13). God, in His graciousness, pairs Moses with Aaron, who is described as confident in speech (Exodus 4:14–16). Moses would speak to Aaron, and Aaron would relay the message to the people. Distinct roles, united purpose.

With that groundwork laid, let’s move on.

I’m writing this on a Saturday afternoon, right in the thick of our youth collective’s annual youth conference (www.yxhconference.com). While hundreds of students buzz around the building and I have to be “on” for most of the weekend, I’ve stolen a few quiet minutes in my office, my introvert’s sanctuary, to reflect on the power of partnering well.

This is our third year running the conference. Back when it started, I literally had an Aaron, Aaron Pardy, a youth pastor in town (now a senior pastor). We never formally discussed roles. We just naturally settled into them. And it highlighted something beautiful: we complemented each other in a way that brought the vision to life.

Aaron is a dreamer. Creative. Big-picture thinker. The kind of guy who tosses out ten ideas before breakfast, most of them brilliant. Me? I like structure. I like boxes, especially the kind I can check off. Where he brought energy and vision, I brought systems and spreadsheets.

When we were preparing for the first conference, Aaron’s enthusiasm was contagious. I worried about attendance, budget, and logistics. He worried about… actually, I don’t think he worried about anything. He dreamed up $1,000 ideas, and I figured out how to pull them off with $100. Together, we were a good team.

Introverts and extroverts need each other. Not to tolerate one another, but to thrive together. Paul puts it this way in 1 Corinthians 12: “The eye cannot say to the hand, ‘I don’t need you.’” We each bring different gifts, and when we honour one another’s contributions, we build something far greater than we could alone.

So here’s my challenge: learn to partner well. You were never meant to do it all, so don’t.

1. Look Out

Evaluate your partnerships. Are there team members whose gifts you’re under-utilizing simply because their style is different from yours? I once spoke with a pastor who was incredibly gifted at hospital visitation and walking with grieving families. His extroverted colleagues were shocked: “You like doing that?” But his presence in those “sacred spaces” was powerful. Once his gifting was noticed and affirmed, he was freed to lean into it even more and even helped others grow in that area. That’s a win-win-win.

2. Look Within

A mentor once asked me, “Are you doing anything that you don’t need to be doing?” That question stung a little. Because, as introverts, we often find it easier to just do things ourselves than ask someone else. But in the long run, that stifles both our energy and others’ growth.

Try this: for one or two weeks, track your tasks. Then ask, “Am I doing anything that drains me that someone else would love to do?” Personally, I can’t stand decorating for events. Tablecloths, centrepieces, balloons? Not my thing. But I have a volunteer who lights up for that stuff. I give her a budget and full freedom. It’s a small thing, but it’s a partnership that breathes life into both of us.

Are there people in your orbit who aren’t being fully released into their strengths?

Final Thoughts

Partnering well isn’t just about getting things done; it’s about reflecting the Body of Christ in all its diverse beauty. Whether you’re a Moses looking for an Aaron, or an Aaron supporting a Moses, don’t miss the joy of shared calling. You were made to serve together.

Dear Extroverted Worship Leaders: A Word from Your Introverted Siblings

joshLeave a comment

Before I ever preached a sermon, I learned how to hide in church. For me, it was a quiet bathroom stall, not because I needed to use the facilities, but because I needed a breath of silence. That out-of-the-way refuge offered peace and solitude when the lobby chatter or sanctuary energy overwhelmed me. Over time, I learned I wasn’t alone. Pastors. Professors. Lay leaders. Introverts, we’ve all had our hiding places.

As I conducted research for my dissertation on introverted leadership, I discovered stories far more common than I imagined. So many of us in the church, those of us who lead quietly, feel deeply, and process slowly, carry the weight of invisibility. We don’t talk about it because we often don’t know where we fit. We’re faithful but quiet. Present, but hidden.

Take, for example, the classic classroom frustration. Participation marks go to those quick to speak, even if they ramble, while the thoughtful ones hold their tongues, searching for clarity before contributing. We value words too much to spill them before they’re ready.

Worship poses a similar challenge. For years, I thought I was the only one who felt guilty about not being expressive enough. I would ask myself: Do I even love Jesus if I can’t jump and shout like everyone else?

In Blessed Are the Misfits, Brant Hansen writes:

“It’s taken me many years to accept that my lack of emotional response to [modern worship lyrics] isn’t indicative of God’s absence from my life. It’s no wonder so many analytical types find themselves estranged from a Christian subculture that traffics in emotional appeals. We find ourselves wondering what’s wrong with us, perhaps even begging God to make Himself real to us in the way He clearly is to others.”

This past weekend, I attended a gathering that leaned charismatic. While it usually allows room for quieter expressions, at one point the leader began encouraging everyone to be more physically engaged. A dance line formed, eventually evolving into a circle of hand-holding revellers parading around the sanctuary. People were laughing and spinning in joyful abandon.

And I stood there, tapping my foot, avoiding eye contact, hoping no one would try to pull me in.

He urged us to “dance like David” and “leave our egos at the door.” It made me pause. Why don’t I feel compelled to join in? Am I rebellious? Proud? Spiritually immature?

No. I’ve come to believe it’s none of those things.

I am deliberate. I value intention. I want my worship to be real, not reactive. If something requires emotional or mental energy, I want to know it serves a purpose beyond crowd enthusiasm. I’m glad the worship leader is excited. I’m glad others are dancing. But I’ve learned that movement is not always a sign of worship, and stillness is not a sign of absence.

When the Holy Spirit prompts me to dance, I will. And have. In those moments, I didn’t care how I looked. But when a leader tells me to do it, asks me to jump, shout, kneel, hold hands with strangers, it often feels like I’m being pulled out of intimacy with God and into conformity with the crowd.

Here’s the heart of the matter: I’m not asking you to change your style. I’m asking you to make space. Space for the dancer and the kneeler. The shouter and the silent. The one who raises their hands and the one who folds them. Let the Holy Spirit lead, not just the stage.

Mark Tanner, in The Introverted Charismatic, says it best:

“Please would you stop telling me what to do when we are worshipping? It might give you immense pleasure to see me joining the crowd in jumping, shouting, hugging, swaying, or generally jiggling for Jesus, but in order to do so I need to draw my attention away from Him, focus on you, and struggle to get over my embarrassment at doing a silly thing in order to fit in with the crowd.”

Imagine a church where worship isn’t measured in volume or movement, but in obedience. Where stillness isn’t judged, and movement isn’t manufactured. That’s the kind of worship I believe God delights in.

And that’s the kind of church I long to be part of.