When I was in grade school, I was very extroverted, almost to the point of being obnoxious. But in my teens and twenties and even beyond, God led me through an unwanted journey that I struggled to piece together. After becoming a follower of Christ, after committing to serve Him, God appeared to be hurling one shocking circumstance after another into my life. Finally, I snapped. In my bewilderment, I yelled at God. Only later did I begin to understand that God was dismantling my self-sufficiency for a very good reason.

The Missing Element

I’ve heard and read a lot on Christian leadership, and I’ve learned from what I’ve come across. But I have noticed that one essential leadership trait often gets left out—even by Christian leadership experts. The primary quality that God infuses into His leaders is brokenness. By brokenness, I mean that work of God by which our self-sufficiency is dismantled and we learn to live and lead in humble dependence upon Him.

Most of us would have thought Moses was ready to lead God’s people out of Egypt when he struck down the Egyptian taskmaster, ready to rally the people to revolt. But he wasn’t broken yet. What about Peter, stepping out with raw courage, taking a swing at the high priest’s servant? It only got him a direct rebuke from Jesus. It wasn’t until Peter wept after his denial that brokenness began to do its essential work. And David? Surely he was qualified to lead after his bold encounter with the Philistine giant. Nope. Not broken yet. His years of cave-hopping and running from a mad king would be needed to teach him still deeper lessons in dependence on God.

Many times, brokenness is the result of missed opportunities, of embarrassing mistakes, of blatant failures on our part. We do things we can’t believe we have just done, and it breaks us. We’re not the heroes we thought we were. At other times, it is the result of life’s surprises, of things happening to us that we feel we don’t deserve—a divorce, an estranged adult child, a career cut short. Here, young David, being forced to run from Saul, serves as a good example. Sometimes Scripture even shows God having a direct hand in the circumstances that break His people. Think of Hannah (see 1 Samuel 1) or Naomi (see Ruth 1). But time after time, in the lives of the great people of God, there is brokenness. It is the essential quality of leadership.

Under the Mighty Hand of God

Brokenness eventually confronts us with a choice—not whether difficult circumstances will enter our lives, but how we will respond when they do. Peter describes this choice in unusually forceful language:

“God is opposed to the proud, but He gives grace to the humble. Therefore humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God, so that He may exalt you at the proper time” (1 Peter 5:5–6).

The word translated “opposed” is stronger than our English word may suggest. The Greek term antitassomai means to set oneself against another, to resist actively. It can even carry the picture of arranging oneself in battle array against an opponent. Peter is not merely saying that God disapproves of pride. He actively works against it.

That becomes even clearer when we look at the passage Peter is quoting—Proverbs 3:31–34. This Old Testament passage describes two radically different ways God responds to people. His curse rests on the house of the wicked, while He blesses the dwelling of the righteous. He scoffs at scoffers, but gives grace to the humble. Peter draws the conclusion for us: Don’t put yourself on the side God is actively resisting. Humble yourself under His hand.

And notice what kind of hand it is: the mighty hand of God.

God’s hand is mighty either way. It is mighty when He actively opposes the proud, and it is mighty when He gives undeserved favor to the humble. Any sensible person would want to be on the right side of a hand like that.

This is especially important for leaders because being in a position of leadership constantly tempts us to protect our image, prove ourselves, defend our importance, and secure our own advancement. Peter points us in exactly the opposite direction.

Go low.
Humble yourself.
Submit to what God is doing in you.
Leave the lifting to Him.

That last part is too consequential to ignore: “so that He may exalt you at the proper time.”

The leader who refuses to exalt himself is precisely the person God promises to exalt when He sovereignly opens up that moment.

The mighty hand we’re tempted to resist is the very hand that is capable of lifting us up.

That is why brokenness is not something we should spend our lives fighting. When God uses circumstances to dismantle our pride, expose our limitations, or strip away our self-sufficiency, our task is not to dictate the terms. It is to humble ourselves under His mighty hand and cooperate with what He is doing.

And this raises the practical question:

What does this actually look like?
How do we manage our brokenness well?

How to Manage It

Brokenness calls for some kind of action. Just like a broken fence in the backyard, our brokenness is obvious to others. We can’t really hide it. It has a way of reminding us that it hasn’t gone anywhere. And like a broken fence, people can see through it, into our hearts. Brokenness has a way of exposing what we would rather conceal. Our limitations become visible, our confidence is shaken, and sometimes others see struggles we would rather keep private. So, how should we respond to the circumstances that break us?

We must manage them well. Just like anything else God allows in our lives, we are to steward our brokenness well. If He has given us a family, a talent, or a job, we must steward them all well. In the same way, if He has willed a measure of brokenness in our lives, we are responsible for what we do with it.

Here, Paul’s own example is instructive for us. In 1 Corinthians 2:3, he writes, “I was with you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling.” Paul is not hiding his weaknesses from the Corinthian believers. Strikingly, he is not hiding his fear, either. He does not fall prey to the common leadership tendency to conceal his flaws or his emotional state. Quite the opposite. He is remarkably candid about his weakness.

Here is the guiding truth behind Paul’s disposition:

It is when people see us humbly acknowledge that we really don’t have it all together that they can feel more relaxed about their own brokenness, and the more we relax and are real with one another, the more truly one we become.

This does not mean that leaders should indiscriminately disclose every weakness or make their struggles the burden of the people they lead. But neither should they construct an image of invulnerability. Brokenness, properly stewarded, makes us more approachable. It helps us recognize weakness in others without being threatened by it. And because we know what it is like to need grace ourselves, we become better equipped to extend grace to the people God has entrusted to us.

What might this look like in practice? It my mean admitting toyour team that you made a poor decision, receiving criticism without immediately defending yourself, or acknowledging that you need help with woething you cannot hndle alone. It may mean responding to someone else’s failure with the same patience and grace you have needed yourself.

But don’t just look outward—look upward. Block out some time for just you and God. Go before Him, admit your weaknesses, limitations, and failures. Confess that, despite your abilities, training, and qualifications, you are dependent on Him. Focus on a specific situation where you are in deep need of Him, on His ability, and His wisdom.

Then wait.

Linger before Him. Listen well. Receive His love and His peace. Thank Him for the difference He makes in your life. Stay until you are confident it is time to go. Then commit that, for the rest of this day, you will carry yourself before others with the same spirit you have just displayed before God.

This is wlllful brokenness, initiated by you, rather than in response to a specific breaking situation, which brings us back to a truth we have already visited: God responds to this kind of proactive humility with grace—His undeserved favor (Proverbs 3:34; James 4:6; 1 Peter 5:5).

Tying it All Together

Here is what I did not understand in my early years: Brokenness is not the interruption of our leadership. It is the formation of it. God is not stripping us of usefulness; He is stripping us of illusions. And as we humble ourselves under His hand, He can make us more fruitful in our brokenness than we ever were in our self-confidence.

So don’t waste the pain. Steward it. Let it soften you, deepen you, and make you the kind of leader who can carry grace without dropping it.

Because in the end, brokenness is not the thing you survive.

It is the very thing God uses.

Many people encourage us to dream big, to follow our dreams. You will see challenges like this on social media, hear them at graduation ceremonies, and even encounter them in sermons.

There is nothing inherently wrong with having a dream. Dreams can inspire us to work harder, attempt difficult things, and imagine possibilities we might otherwise overlook. Many remarkable accomplishments began with somebody saying, “I would love to do that someday.”

But for the person of faith, there is a higher question than What do I dream of doing? It is:

What is God calling me to do?

Those two questions may lead to exactly the same place. But they may not.

And sometimes the most difficult plans to surrender are not selfish ones. They are the good ones—the things we sincerely want to do for God.

When a Good Dream Isn’t God’s Assignment

David discovered this.

By 2 Samuel 7, David had become king, his enemies had been subdued, and he was living in a house of cedar. Then something began bothering him. He said to Nathan the prophet: “See now, I dwell in a house of cedar, but the ark of God dwells within tent curtains” (2 Samuel 7:2).

David wanted to build a temple for Yahweh. What could possibly be wrong with that? This wasn’t a plan to enlarge his palace or make himself famous. He wanted to honor God. Even Nathan thought it was a good idea: “Go, do all that is in your mind, for the LORD is with you” (7:3).

Look at everything David had going for him. His desire was noble. It centered on God. He had the resources to pursue it. And a respected spiritual adviser told him to move forward.

Then God said no.

David’s experience tells us something we desperately need to understand about discerning God’s direction:

Sometimes the question isn’t whether our dream is good.
The question is whether it is ours to do.

God had something else in mind. David wanted to build a house for God. Instead, God announced that He would build a “house” for David—a dynasty through which His purposes would extend far beyond anything David could accomplish by constructing a building.

David had correctly perceived that God was doing something significant. What he had misunderstood was his role in it.

Sometimes we really are seeing God at work. The harder question is whether we have correctly understood the part He has assigned to us.

How Do We Know?

That raises an obvious problem. How do we distinguish God’s direction from our own ambition?

A good opportunity isn’t enough. David had one. An open door isn’t enough. David possessed the means to do what he envisioned. Even affirmation from godly people isn’t enough. Nathan initially told David to proceed.

Contrary to what many of us have been taught about discerning God’s will, these circumstances, by themselves, do not carry the authority to tell us what God wants.

For more discussion on this topic, see the article Information Is Not King. Revelation Is King. Several principles from that discussion are essential here.

First, we begin with what God has already revealed. Before asking whether God is calling us to pursue something, we should ask whether Scripture weighs in on it in some way. What biblical priorities govern it? What motives are operating in us? Does the direction reflect God’s character and purposes? What kind of person would pursuing it require us to become?

Second, we submit both the plan and ourselves to God.

We aren’t really seeking God’s direction if the only answer we are willing to receive is yes. We can pray, search Scripture, seek wise counsel, watch circumstances, and pay attention to how God may be working around us. But all of that must occur with open hands.

We are not asking, “God, will You help me accomplish this?”
We are asking, “God, is this what You want me to do?”

Understood within that question is the willing response, “If this is not what You want, I’ll lay it down now.”

We must hold our plans loosely before the God who sees what we cannot.

When God Changes the Form

David’s story becomes even more instructive when we keep reading.

God’s refusal did not mean David’s desire to honor Him was worthless. David simply wasn’t the one who would build the temple. That assignment would eventually belong to Solomon.

Notice David’s selfless response. He didn’t respond by saying, “If I can’t build it, then I want nothing to do with it.” Instead, he became deeply involved in preparing for what somebody else would accomplish. He gathered materials, made preparations, and charged Solomon with completing the work (1 Chronicles 22; 28–29).

David’s dream wasn’t destroyed as much as it was redirected.

That leads us to another important question:

If God says no to the form I envisioned, am I still willing to serve His purpose?

Perhaps I envisioned leading the ministry, but God wants me to strengthen the person who will lead it. Perhaps the purpose really did come from God, but I misunderstood my role, the timing, or the form it would take.

If I lose interest as soon as God changes my part, I may discover that I was more attached to my dream than I was to His purpose.

Our Dreams Often Bear the Marks of Myopia

There is another danger here. We can begin thinking of God’s will primarily in negative terms, as though our dreams are expansive while God spends His time shrinking them. As it turns out, the exact opposite may be the truth.

Just before Jesus ascended, the disciples asked Him, “Lord, is it at this time You are restoring the kingdom to Israel?” (Acts 1:6). Their expectation wasn’t entirely wrong, but their conception of what God was about to do was far too small. Jesus answered:

“You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be My witnesses both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and even to the remotest part of the earth” (1:8).

They were thinking about Israel. Jesus was thinking about the nations. God’s refusal to conform to our plans does not mean we serve a divine killjoy. His vision simply transcends ours.

Sometimes His “no” protects us from something foolish or corrects an ambition that was never His. But sometimes we are simply looking at one small piece while God sees the whole.

Discerning the Direction

A dream begins with what we want to accomplish. A vision begins by asking what God is doing and where we fit within His purposes.

Henry Blackaby famously encouraged believers to find where God is working and join Him. There is wisdom in that, provided we remember what David teaches us: seeing God at work does not automatically tell us what our role should be.

So we watch. We listen. We search Scripture. We seek counsel from trusted friends who may detect blind spots.

One caution here is especially important: We watch circumstances without treating every open door as God’s endorsement or every closed door as His prohibition. And throughout the process, we remain willing to be redirected.

The objective is not to assemble enough evidence to persuade ourselves that God agrees with us. The objective is to become so completely surrendered that He can change our direction at any time, at any point in the process.

Paul was already carrying out God’s mission when God repeatedly redirected where he would go next (Acts 16:6–10). Philip was in the middle of a remarkably successful ministry when God sent him away from the crowds to a desert road (Acts 8:26–27). Neither man treated yesterday’s direction—or even today’s success—as a guarantee of tomorrow’s assignment. They remained redirectable.

Trusting Him With the Path

Perhaps the best Scripture to carry with us when considering a major plan is Proverbs 3:5–6. I’ll present it literally from the Hebrew, with emphasis included:

“Trust in the LORD with all your heart
And do not lean on your own understanding.
In all your ways acknowledge Him,
And He Himself will make your paths straight.”

Read the passage carefully and an important contrast emerges. We are told not to lean on our own understanding, but that does not mean we stop thinking or planning. It means that our understanding does not have the final word.

Instead, “in all your ways acknowledge Him.” The Hebrew word translated “acknowledge” is yadaʿ, literally “know,” but the word carries an important nuance here. In the language of ancient treaties, conquered peoples were expected to “know” their new overlord—to recognize his sovereignty and acknowledge his prerogative to rule. We see something similar when Yahweh repeatedly declares in Ezekiel, “You shall know that I am Yahweh.” This is far more than intellectual recognition. It is the acknowledgment of lordship.

Read that sense back into Proverbs 3 and the familiar passage becomes considerably more demanding: In every path you contemplate, recognize God’s right to determine where that path goes. We relinquish our own understanding as sovereign and acknowledge His sovereignty instead. And then comes the remarkable promise: He Himself will make our paths straight.

Our responsibility is not to determine the path and ask God to bless it. Our responsibility is to yield the path to Him. His prerogative is to direct it.

Before You Call It a Vision

So the next time someone encourages you to “follow your dream,” go one step farther. Ask yourself:

1. Is this plan emerging primarily from what I want, or from what I understand God to be doing and saying?

2. Does Scripture support its direction—and the kind of person pursuing it would require me to become?

3. Have I listened to wise believers without treating their approval as God’s final word?

4. Am I willing to let God change the timing, my role, or the form of what I envision?

5. If God says no to the form I envisioned, am I still willing to serve His purpose?

That last question may be the most revealing one.

Ultimately, the difference between a dream and a vision isn’t merely how large the idea is, how noble it sounds, or even how much good it might accomplish.

It is a question of whose plan we have decided to follow.

Seek God.
Listen carefully.
Hold the plan with open hands.
Then move forward as He makes the path clear.

And if He changes the path, don’t automatically assume that you’ve lost the vision.

You may finally be finding it.

It Doesn’t Stop Here . . .
Sometimes an article like this will jar our thought processes, bringing thoughts onto our front screen that we would not have otherwise considered. Tell us about the thoughts that are circulating in your head right now . . . .

A few years ago, I walked past a seminar at a church I was visiting. On the screen, in bold letters, was the declaration: “Data is king.” I didn’t attend the session, but the phrase lodged in my mind. It captured something about one of our society’s primary driving assumptions: if we can gather enough information, we can master our lives.

If “data is king,” then the throne belongs to the person with the biggest dashboard. But the more I’ve watched our world race toward the online ecosystem, toward AI, and toward information-driven decision-making, the more convinced I’ve become that the church must say something different.

Not because information is bad.
Because information is insufficient.

Information expands human capacity, but it does not necessarily direct it. It cannot sanctify or redeem our souls, and no matter how much data we have at our disposal, it cannot by itself tell us what God wants us to do with it. So here is the counterclaim I believe Christians must recover:

Information is not king.
Revelation is king.

Information vs. Revelation

We live in an age that confuses information with wisdom. We assume that if we can just know more, we will become more. But biblically, information is never the decisive factor in human flourishing.

Information tells us what appears on the surface. Revelation tells us what is really going on. Information can tell us what our options are. Revelation gives us the truths and priorities by which those options must be judged. This distinction is woven through Scripture.

Saul Had Information. David Had Revelation.

One of the clearest examples comes from 1 Samuel 23:9–13. Saul is trying to track David down. He receives information about David’s location. He has the surface data, so he crafts a plan based on that information. David has information too, hearing that Saul is plotting against him. But David does something Saul does not.

He asks God.

David consults the Lord through the ephod. However mysterious that process may seem to us, the point is unmistakable: David does not assume that possessing information means he possesses direction.

He asks whether Saul will come.
God says yes.
Then David asks whether the men of Keilah will surrender him to Saul.
Again, God answers affirmatively.
So David leaves.

Saul has information about where David is.
David receives direction about what to do.
That is the difference.

Information Makes an Excellent Servant

Our age is drowning in information. We can track and quantify practically anything. And now, with AI, we can generate insights, summaries, predictions, and recommendations faster than we can think them. Much of this is useful. AI can summarize information, compare options, expose something we’ve overlooked, or help us ask better questions.

At the same time, we get information from other sources. Doctors explain our health condition. Financial advisers run the numbers and offer advice. Friends give us their perspective on the decisions we face.

Use information, but make it your servant, not your king.

The danger is subtle. When we enthrone information, we begin to believe that the right inputs will guarantee the right outcomes. If we are honest, we will acknowledge that many of us are now tempted to outsource our thinking and discernment to machines and algorithms.

The world we all live in now brings us back to an ancient question:
“Where can wisdom be found?
Where is the place of understanding?” (Job 28:12)

The Magi Had Information. They Still Needed Revelation.

The Magi give us another fascinating picture. Something had appeared in the heavens. They had observed it carefully enough to conclude that the King of the Jews had been born. That information got them moving, taking them all the way to Jerusalem.

But Jerusalem wasn’t their destination.

When Herod gathered the chief priests and scribes and asked where the Messiah was to be born, they turned to Scripture. Micah had already supplied the answer: Bethlehem.

The Magi had information from what they had observed. They still needed God’s revealed Word. Then, remarkably, the star appears again and leads them onward. This narrative, found in Matthew 2, lays out a pattern we must not miss:

The Magi received information, made their observations, and took action. But they did not stop there. They did not confuse what they could observe with everything they needed to know.

Information got them to Jerusalem.
Revelation got them to Bethlehem.

What Do We Mean by Revelation?

At this point, we need to be careful.

The ephod and the Magi’s star both feature means of revelation that are foreign to us today. Therefore, these narratives cannot be made to serve as templates for Christians to reproduce these types of experiences whenever we need to make a decision. As helpful as these passages are, we must be discerning:

Not every decision requires new revelation.
Most of the time, we need to apply revelation God has already given.

And that begins with Scripture.

God has already revealed His character, His purposes, and His commands in His Word. So when we need direction, the first question isn’t necessarily: “Will God give me a new message?” A better question is:

“What has God already said that governs this decision?”

Scripture may rule out an option, expose a motive, or highlight a priority we would have otherwise missed. It may tell us what kind of person we need to be even when it doesn’t tell us which job to take, which house to buy, or which city to live in.

Often, God is more interested in our character than in our precise decisions.

Here is the x-factor that only believers can leverage: When we read the Word and ponder it, the Spirit of God then works through that revealed Word—illuminating it, convicting us through it, shaping our consciences and producing wisdom.

No impression, circumstance, counsel, opportunity, or inner sense gets to outrank or contradict what God has already revealed in Scripture.

Revelation is king.
Everything else must bow.

From Information to Direction

So what does this actually look like? I think Scripture gives us a simple pattern:

(1) Gather, find out what you can—both David and the Magi began with received fact and observable phenomena.

(2) Take an additional, essential step—submit the information and yourself to God.

Our faith is not blind, but it continually calls us to a disposition of submission.
We must take all we know and bring it underneath what God has revealed.

Here is how this takes shape in our experience. We ask:

· Does Scripture rule anything out?

· What biblical priorities govern this decision?

· What motives are operating in me?

· What kind of person is God calling me to be here?

Information will often tell us that one choice is more profitable, more comfortable, more prestigious, or more efficient. Scripture asks different questions entirely:

· Which choice is faithful?

· What adjustments is God calling me to make?

· What assumptions have I been operating out of that God is prompting me to release?

The difference is profound, and it tells us why information cannot be king.

So we must ask God to expose what we’re missing, to correct our motives. We must resolve to ask Him to close doors that should remain closed and give us courage to walk through doors we would not normally enter. This means that, ultimately, we are seeking Him, not just information.

The Essential Disposition

But we must be careful to maintain a posture of humility in the process. There is a world of difference between saying, “I have prayed, searched Scripture, sought wise counsel, and believe this is where God is leading me,” and resorting to the phrase, “God told me.”

The first statement allows for humility. It leaves room for correction, for the possibility that we have misunderstood. And it keeps our impressions beneath the authority of God’s Word rather than placing them alongside it.

So the movement is simple:

Gather the information.
Submit the information to revelation.
Seek God’s wisdom and direction.

Gather.
Submit.
Seek.

AI and the New Babel

It is imperative that we examine these issues as AI becomes increasingly prevalent, as the rush toward AI has echoes of Babel—not because AI is inherently evil, but because the human impulse behind Babel is ancient and refuses to go away.

The motivation for building a tower is stark: “Let us make a name for ourselves” (Genesis 11:4). God therefore says in alarm, “Nothing they plan to do will be impossible to them” (11:6).

Note the progression:
Expanded human capacity mutates into reaching for an ability and status reserved only for God. Eventually we end up thinking that nothing can stop us.

Our achievements can inflate us. Therefore, we cannot give them a place of lordship. This means that we cannot give anything related to technology ultimate sway over our decisions. AI can summarize what Scripture says and even help us see truths in it we might have missed. But it cannot replace the Spirit who illumines Scripture and forms the people who obey it.

While it is well-known that AI can at times hand out false information, there is a greater danger. The true danger is that we might slowly become people who no longer know how to seek God.

Our invention is not our ultimate salvation.

Revelation Changes People

Revelation is not merely information from above. It is the means by which God speaks in a direct way. As a result, people who brush up against it cannot remain the same.

The Magi narrative contains a truth that the one involving David does not. After they find the Baby Jesus, they fall down and worship Him (Matthew 2:11). Similarly, after Daniel interprets Nebuchadnezzar’s dream, the king falls on his face and praises Daniel’s God (Daniel 2:46–47).

The overarching truth is undeniable: Revelation carries a transformative power that information cannot touch.

This is why we must seek Him—not only so we will know what to do, but so that we will become the people He has called us to be and can serve as agents of change in a world that world that so deeply needs it.

A Different Kind of People

As believers, we must rise above the level of others around us and maintain our distinct calling.

We do not need less information.
What we need is believers who know how to use information without bowing before it.

In an age of infinite information, people shaped by revelation are becoming increasingly rare. This means that, sooner or later, they will also become increasingly recognizable. They will not necessarily know more than everyone else, but they will know where knowledge belongs.

Looking forward into our brave new world, they are the people of value.

So while society rushes headlong toward the next source of information, let God’s people walk calmly.

Gather information.
But don’t crown it; submit it instead.
Seek God.

Because information is not enough.
Only revelation is king.

Weigh in on This One

Where do you think the greatest danger lies for Christians as we increasingly turn to AI and other electronic sources for answers—and how do you keep information from taking the place that belongs to God?