Just Do Something
There’s a line I stumbled across recently that has been working on me ever since:
“The responsible life is the life that responds.”
When Moses saw an Israelite being beaten, he looked around and realized that no one was moving—no one was stepping in, no one was outraged enough to act. Something in him refused to let that injustice pass unchallenged. His response wasn’t perfect, but it was the beginning of the life God had been shaping in him all along.
He couldn’t fix everything.
But he could not do nothing.
That same truth lives all throughout Scripture.
The Good Samaritan didn’t end violence on the Jericho road—he simply stopped for the man in front of him.
The disciples couldn’t feed thousands—yet they brought Jesus the little they had.
And the four friends couldn’t heal their paralyzed companion—but they could carry him, dig through a roof, and place him before Jesus.
Van Gogh’s - The Good Samarita
Every act of faithful responsibility begins this way:
someone refuses to let their inability to solve everything keep them from responding to something.
And in each case, their response becomes a subtle act of leadership.
Not positional leadership, not title-driven influence—but the kind of leadership that comes from moving first when others remain frozen.
Years ago, early in my disaster-response days, I learned this the hard way.
One of my first international deployments was to Tabasco, Mexico after catastrophic flooding. From the plane window I saw entire communities submerged—rooftops barely visible, families displaced, livelihoods erased. And I knew exactly how little we were bringing with us compared to the scale of the devastation.
I remember saying out loud, “What are we even doing here? What difference can we make?”
My colleague—much more experienced than I was—immediately responded:
“God will place the people in front of us that He intends for us to reach.”
He wasn’t just comforting me.
He was teaching me how to lead—
to respond to what is in front of me, not to what is beyond me.
And that simple posture has shaped my understanding of responsible leadership ever since.
Leadership isn’t always strategic.
It isn’t always polished or visionary.
Sometimes leadership looks like stepping toward a need when others step away.
Sometimes it’s noticing the person everyone else overlooks.
Sometimes it’s offering your “five loaves and two fish,” believing God will multiply what you surrender.
These are the sorts of people that mobilize others—not grand solutions, but faithful responses.
The next right thing.
The person right in front of us.
The moment God places in our hands.
God has never asked us to fix everything.
He simply asks us to do something.
And when we do, we quietly lead others into courage, compassion, and obedience.
So here’s the question I’m asking myself—and you’re welcome to ask it with me:
Where have I let the impossibility of doing everything prevent me from doing something?
And what small act of faithful leadership might God be inviting me into today?
