The Weight of Being a Young Leader

What did you want to be when you grew up?

An astronaut? A firefighter? A teacher?

In fourth grade, while most kids showed up to career day dressed for space or the ER, I walked into class wearing a white button-down, carrying a clipboard, and telling everyone I was going to be a CEO (I even convinced my friends to dress up as my employees).

At the time, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. I wasn’t trying to be different—I just knew I wanted to build things, lead things, and make things better. Leadership has always been stitched into the fabric of who I am.

At 23, I live in the tension of being both trusted and underestimated.

I’ve been incredibly blessed to serve under leaders who have believed in me—who’ve seen potential and trusted me with real responsibility. That kind of trust is a gift I don’t take for granted. I know not everyone gets that opportunity, so I’m deeply thankful for the places where I’ve been encouraged to grow and contribute.

But I’ve also experienced the other side.

There are still rooms where I’m viewed as a student—someone to develop, but not necessarily someone to follow. And that can be discouraging. Most people don’t see the behind-the-scenes—the late nights, the lessons learned through trial and error, the moments of quiet perseverance. When assumptions are made based on age, it’s easy to feel unseen or misjudged.

For a while, that left me feeling like I had to prove something—to work harder, speak louder, or push back to be taken seriously. I wanted to be known for more than just potential. I wanted to be seen for the depth and care I try to bring to what I do.

But over time, my heart has shifted.

I’ve started to see this tension as an unexpected gift.

Because maybe this in-between place is exactly where growth happens. It’s where I’m reminded that leadership isn’t about having it all figured out—it’s about staying faithful, even while I’m still learning.

There’s a healthy kind of tension between experience and teachability. Between confidence and humility. And I want to live in that space.

I want to steward what’s been placed in my hands—but I also want to remain open, curious, and willing to be shaped.

I’m learning that leadership isn’t about arriving. It’s about abiding.

• I can have something to offer and still have so much to learn.

• I can be seasoned in some areas and still green in others.

• I can carry responsibility and still ask for help.

That’s not weakness—it’s maturity.
It’s holding space for both confidence and dependence.
It’s learning to walk slowly and humbly in a role that often asks for more than I feel I can give.

There’s a weight to leading young that’s hard to explain.

It’s not just about tasks or goals. It’s the internal weight—the emotional, spiritual, and mental toll that comes from trying to lead well while still becoming who you’re meant to be.

It’s having clarity about your calling—but still being questioned about your qualifications.
It’s navigating expectations you never agreed to but somehow feel responsible for.
It’s being trusted with responsibility but left out of decisions.
It’s carrying the emotional weight of other people’s doubts—while trying to silence your own.

That quiet weight isn’t always visible, but it’s real.

What I’ve come to believe is that leadership is far less about titles and far more about trust. It’s being faithful with what’s in front of you, even when it feels small. Even when no one sees the cost.

Being called doesn’t always come with celebration.
But it does come with purpose.

And that purpose isn’t rooted in performance—it’s rooted in faithfulness. In showing up. In staying steady. In letting God shape your character in the quiet places.

So if you’re a young leader feeling overlooked, uncertain, or weary—take heart.

You don’t have to prove yourself.
You don’t have to strive for recognition.
You don’t need to be loud to be impactful.

Your quiet faithfulness matters.
Your integrity is forming something deeper in you.
Your obedience is seen by the One who called you.

You’re becoming a leader who leads not just with strength, but with surrender.
Not just with skill, but with love.
Not just for a platform, but for the people in front of you.

And that kind of leadership?

It changes everything.

To the little girl who dressed up as a CEO for career day: You did it, chica!