They Need Me, They Really Need Me...

They need me every hour, most gracious Lord
To lose talent like mine, the team can't afford

They need me, O they need me
Every service they need me
I'll bless them with my presence
Until eternity

I think this bastardized hymn sings in the brain of every worship leader - full-time, part-time, volunteer - it doesn't matter.

I tweeted on Saturday: A first - not scheduled to play or lead worship this Sunday. Not sure I remember how to sit still in church...

I had taken two weeks off and decided to schedule myself off at both campuses for the third Sunday as well. I was returning late in the week and didn't want to have to rush back to leading. I figured I'd just jump on electric guitar at our Lex campus. But then this still small voice cut through my inner song of self-delusion: they don't need you.

Sure they do.

No. They don't.

But I'm just going to play electric guitar. I'm not taking over or anything.

Electric guitar would be nice. But do you really think you need to be there?

Aw, crud.

Too often worship leaders, especially us "professionals," only give up leadership when we're on vacation. It's a disorder called LIDs. "Leadership Insecurity Disorder" makes us think we're indispensable. Don't get me wrong, working towards indispensability should be the goal. But am I indispensable because I work to make the team better, stronger and deeper (musically, relationally and spiritually)? Or because I'm the only one who can quarterback? And don't make me mad, because I'll just leave and take the ball with me.

So figure out a way to take a week off without being gone. The perspective from the pew will recalibrate your leadership.

By the way, the team did great without me. And while not leading or playing guitar in a worship service was a little weird, I think I could get used to it. Once a month. Maybe. (I might not be entirely sanctified in this area yet...)

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What would it take for you to NOT lead/play on in your situation?

What has been your experience when you have delegated leadership?

Leave comments here, or tweet them to me @jonnicol.

Bigger Than Bono...

I wrote this article for my own worship team's monthly newsletter. Rather than transfer it to the blog, I kept it a PDF so you can distribute it more easily to your own team. Click on the graphic or download the pdf here.

Linchpin or Liability?

When it comes to the worship ministry at your church, are you a linchpin or a liability?

A linchpin is indispensable. Wait, I know. The right answer that’s been drilled in our heads, especially in the church, is this: no one’s indispensible. OK, so the earth might not break its orbit of the sun if you quit the worship team. But would there be a gaping hole and would you be missed for a long, long time? If the answer is yes, then you’re a linchpin. And don’t forget that there are two parts to that question. We’ve all seen people depart who leave a big hole, but weren’t particularly missed.

A linchpin not only does the work, but does it in a way that we want to be around them. To use a quote from a Jack Nicholson movie (that ranks only slightly lower than, “You can’t handle the truth!”), linchpins make us “want to be a better man.” Or woman. If that’s your gender.

On the other side of the spectrum there’s the liability. And a liability is someone who brings the team down either musically or emotionally/spiritually. Unless your team is inordinately dysfunctional, rarely do we have a member who’s both a lousy musician and has a terrible attitude. We often get a not-so-great musician because “he’s such a great person.” His heart outweighs his talents. And, depending on where we’re at in our growth as a team, we’re willing to work with that.

The person who is most often a bona fide liability is the one with the attitude. It might be arrogance. Entitlement. Negativity. Harshness. Whatever it is, talent can only trump toxic for so long.

The problem with the original question, “Are you a linchpin or a liability?” is that a person rarely recognizes himself as such. Most people aren’t intentionally toxic. It’s the default they arrive at after being hurt/wounded/disappointed one too many times.

The linchpin, on the other hand, is intentional. If I’m not intentionally trying to create great art within my team, and if I’m not purposely building others up, then I’m probably not a linchpin.

In truth, I’ve been both. And somewhere in the middle. And that’s where most of us are--sitting somewhere on a long line between indispensible and intolerable.

So forget the original question. Here’s a new one: which way are you moving?




*Want to learn more about being  indispensible, buy Seth’s Godin’s book, Linchpin. (affiliate link)