When I was in college, I remember hearing a young pastor tell a story that has stayed with me ever since. The details are fuzzy after all these years, but the exchange isn’t.
He had attended a conference where one of his heroes was speaking. This was someone whose books and teaching had influenced him for years, and someone he held in the highest regard for the way he appeared to approach his work, his family, and his faith.
At some point during the conference, the young pastor walked into a dining area and saw his hero eating lunch alone. He worked up the courage to approach him and, as I remember the story, eventually said something along the lines of, “I’ve admired you for years. I have to believe there aren’t five people walking the earth who are living as faithfully in their work, their family, and their faith as you are.”
I’m guessing he expected a thank you. Maybe even a humble deflection.
Instead, the man paused, looked back at him, and said, “Well, how about you be number six?”
I’ve never forgotten that.
I’ve spent a lot of my life looking for people I admire. I’m drawn to people who are exceptional at their work without sacrificing everything else to achieve it. People who love their families well, take their faith seriously, and are generous with what they’ve learned.
I think we need those examples. But I also wonder if I’ve sometimes made the same mistake as the young pastor. I’ve put certain people on a pedestal and treated the things I admire about them as somehow unavailable to me.
Their lives became something to study instead of something that challenged me to act.
That’s what I love about the response, “How about you be number six?” It turns admiration into an invitation. If you admire someone’s faithfulness, practice it. If you respect their discipline, develop your own. If their generosity inspires you, become more generous yourself.
At some point, we have to stop standing outside the life we admire and begin building our own version of it.
There’s another part of this I’ve been thinking about more as I get older.
For much of our lives, we’re searching for people who can pour into us. We want mentors, wisdom, introductions, opportunities, and access to people who are a few steps ahead. There’s nothing wrong with that. I hope I never stop being a student.
But I also think there comes a point when the balance should begin to change.
Maturity should make us increasingly generous with what we’ve received.
The question can’t always be, Who can help me? At some point, it also has to become, Who can I help?
That doesn’t mean you’ve arrived. It simply means you’ve received enough to start giving some of it away.
Some of the relationships I treasure most are with people who still teach me while simultaneously expecting more from me. They don’t just give me answers. They spur me on. Their example isn’t intended to make me dependent on them. It makes me want to become more faithful with what I’ve been given.
Think about someone whose life you genuinely admire and get specific about why. What is it about the way they work, love, serve, lead, or live that you want more of in your own life?
Then ask yourself a harder question: Why couldn’t I begin practicing more of that now?
And then turn around.
Who could benefit from something you’ve already been given? Maybe it’s an introduction, an opportunity, a conversation, encouragement, correction, or simply your time.
Learn from the people ahead of you. But don’t forget to become useful to the people coming behind you.
Great examples shouldn’t simply give us people to admire. They should expand our understanding of what’s possible.
Learn from them. Be grateful for them. Let their lives challenge you.
But don’t spend your whole life watching from a distance.
At some point, accept the invitation.
Be number six.
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