Day 60

Numbers 3-4 | John 3:22-36

John’s disciples came to him with a concern.

“Rabbi, He who was with you across the Jordan, to whom you bore witness—look, He is baptizing, and all are going to Him.” (John 3:26)

The crowds were shifting. The ministry John had built was shrinking while Jesus’ following exploded.

And John’s response?

“He must increase, but I must decrease.” (John 3:30)

No resentment. No insecurity. No grasping for influence.

Because John understood something that many leaders forget—true leadership isn’t about rising higher. It’s about stepping lower.

No Task Too Small

Years ago, I joined a church mission trip to a small village near Ensenada, Mexico.

The people there had nothing—no luxuries, no conveniences, just a daily fight to survive.

And our project for the week?

To pour a concrete floor for a widow and her four young children.

For years, they had lived with nothing but dirt beneath their feet. And she had no way to change that—until a group of volunteers showed up with shovels, a cement mixer, and a willingness to serve.

I still remember pulling that heavy cement mixer up a steep hill by hand with a rope because there was no other way to get it where we needed to start the project. It was exhausting, backbreaking labor.

But while we spent the day serving her, she spent the day serving us.

She had been cooking all day, filling the air with the rich aroma of the meal she was preparing.

And at the end of the day, when the work was done, we sat with her children while she served us the meal she had made.

Two acts of service.

One was loud, sweaty, exhausting—pulling cement mixers up hills, mixing concrete, pouring, smoothing.

The other was quiet, simple, unseen—standing over a stove, stirring, seasoning, preparing.

But both mattered.

Because no task is too small when it is done in love.

No act of service is insignificant when it is done for the glory of God.

The Smell of True Leadership

That night, the pastor of the village church invited a few of us to dinner.

As we sat around the table, speaking through a translator, he said something so simple and so profound that I will never forget:

“A leader should smell like his sheep.”

He didn’t mean it figuratively. He meant it literally.

A shepherd walks where his flock walks. He labors where they labor. He eats where they eat. By the end of the day, he carries their scent.

And that’s what true leadership looks like.

Not lording over others. Not issuing orders from a distance. But stepping into the dust, serving shoulder to shoulder, bearing the weight together.

John the Baptist Knew His Place

John didn’t cling to his position.

He didn’t try to compete with Jesus.

He knew his role was to serve, not to be seen.

“The friend of the bridegroom… rejoices greatly at the bridegroom’s voice. Therefore, this joy of mine is now complete. He must increase, but I must decrease.” (John 3:29-30)

John wasn’t trying to build his own kingdom.

He was pointing to Christ.

And that’s the heart I want.

Not striving for recognition.

Not worrying about credit.

Not clinging to control.

But lowering myself—so that Christ is the only One left to be seen.

The Levites and the Work No One Sees

Numbers 3-4 lays out the duties of the Levites.

Some carried the tent curtains.

Some transported the holy furniture.

Some packed up the sacred vessels.

None of it was glamorous. None of it was about personal recognition. But all of it was for the Lord.

And I can’t help but think of that widow.

Serving while we served her.

Giving while we gave.

Pouring herself out while we poured concrete.

She wasn’t leading a movement. She wasn’t seeking recognition.

She was simply serving where she was, with everything she had.

And that’s the call of every believer.

Whether we are called to preach to thousands or make a meal for a few.

Whether we carry the Ark of the Covenant or simply carry a cement mixer up a hill.

Whether our work is noticed by many or seen only by God.

It all matters—when it’s done for Him.

What Kind of Leader Will I Be?

I think about that trip often.

I think about the cement mixer, the dirt floors, the hands covered in concrete dust.

I think about that widow, giving all she had to serve others.

I think about the pastor’s words—that a leader should smell like his sheep.

And I think about John, standing by the Jordan, watching his ministry shrink, his disciples worry, and responding with the only words that truly matter:

“He must increase, but I must decrease.”

That’s the kind of leader I want to be.

One who serves. One who lowers himself.

One who disappears so that Christ is the only One left to be seen.

Lord, strip away my pride. Teach me to lead by lowering myself. Let me be willing to do the unseen, unglamorous work. And let my life be about one thing—not my name, but making much of Yours. Amen.