I have to disagree with the idea that many people have, that leaders aren’t important. After all, what would you do if an alien landed and demanded that you take him to your leader? And without the Big Cheese, who would you please? Or who would there be to affirm a worm? To herd the terds? To command Miss Muffet to eat her curds? Who would hard-wire me, acquire me, tire me? Who would be there to keep me in line, keep me from wine or tell me I’m fine? Besides, I’m too immature to want a release, I’m way more secure if I’m being policed. Or fleeced.
Still, there are those among us who prove an example, the weak, never trample, who know Father’s ample. They’re ready to feed us, but don’t try to lead us. They don’t seek for gain, their motives aren’t vain. They don’t search the church for disciples to train. With no image to build, no pews to be filled, the last of their old dreams have long since been killed. They no longer strive, their motive is love. They’ve laid down their lives, Their reward waits above.
Call them leaders if you like. They’ll call themselves unworthy servants.
David
