How Jesus Taught Me to Lead
A reflection from childhood & the quiet ways God forms reluctant leaders
December 27, 2025 | Written by Belle Cruz
I never looked like the kind of leader people talk about in books or leadership seminars.
I wasn’t loud.
I wasn’t commanding.
I wasn’t the girl raising her hand first or volunteering to be in front.
I was the quiet one.
The sensitive one.
The girl who felt everything too deeply, who noticed everything, and who carried people’s emotions in her small hands without ever announcing it.
Growing up, I was a reluctant leader. Not because I didn’t care, but because I cared too much.
I kept to myself, observant and introspective, with an empathy that often felt like both a gift and a weight. People trusted me with their hearts long before I ever trusted my own voice. They followed me because I loved them quietly, not because I tried to lead.
Even then, Jesus was shaping something inside me. I just didn’t recognize it yet.
1. Jesus taught me that leadership begins in the quiet places.
Jesus himself wasn’t what people expected in a leader. He arrived in humility, not spectacle. He lived quietly for most of his life. He often withdrew from crowds, choosing solitude with God over platform.
This quietness felt familiar to me.
It made space for me.
I learned that leadership isn’t always loud or charismatic. Sometimes it’s gentle. Sometimes it’s soft-spoken. Sometimes it’s a quiet presence that calms the room before a word is ever spoken.
In the OR, this is how I lead— through steadiness, through grounded eyes, through emotional intelligence, through listening. I don’t need to raise my voice to raise the standard.
Jesus led like that too.
2. Jesus taught me that sensitivity is not a weakness — it’s a leadership anointing.
As a child, I didn’t understand why I was different in this way.
I hated loud birthday parties.
The noise, the chaos, the overstimulation— it all felt like too much. I would shrink into myself, wishing I could just find a quiet corner where my nervous system could breathe again.
I realize now, I wasn’t shy.
I was sensitive.
And there is a difference.
I could feel the emotional weight of a room before I even walked fully into it. I sensed the heaviness behind an adult’s smile, the tension underneath polite words, the contradiction between what someone said and what they truly felt.
Even as a little girl, I could feel the truth behind people’s masks. I could see the story behind their eyes. I could read tone more sharply than volume. It was like my spirit was tuned to a frequency other people often didn’t hear.
For years, I thought something was wrong with me.
But Jesus never treated sensitivity as something to fix.
He honored it.
He blessed it.
He built His ministry around noticing the things everyone else overlooked.
Through Him, I learned that the sensitivity I once resented was actually a form of discernment— a leadership gifting wrapped in tenderness. This emotional intuition allows me now, as an adult, to pick up on distress before it turns into conflict, to comfort people before they crumble, to guide moments with calm because I feel the storm forming before anyone else recognizes it.
What I once saw as “too much” was actually preparation for the exact calling God entrusted to me.
3. Jesus taught me that leadership isn’t about being the loudest — it’s about being the most present.
Growing up reserved, I often assumed leaders had to be commanding, assertive, outspoken. But Jesus’ leadership style was rooted in presence, not volume.
He attended to the one.
He heard the whisper beneath the words.
He healed people through attention, not applause.
That’s the leadership I fell into naturally, not because I was trying, but because Jesus had planted that in me long ago.
Now, when I sit with a crying nurse, or guide a tense OR moment into calm, or speak gently but firmly when something isn’t safe, I feel His leadership flowing through me.
It’s not loud.
It’s not flashy.
But it’s deeply effective because it’s led by love.
4. Jesus taught me to lead with both strength & softness.
People often see softness as fragile, but Jesus showed me it is one of the greatest strengths. He was strong in conviction yet tender in approach. Firm in truth yet gentle in delivery.
As a quiet child turned quiet adult, this gave me permission to lead in my own way… a way that doesn’t betray who God made me to be.
My softness doesn’t dilute my authority.
My empathy doesn’t diminish my strength.
My quietness doesn’t disqualify my calling.
In fact, those qualities make me a better nurse, a better coach, a better woman of God, and a better leader.
5. Jesus taught me that reluctant leaders often carry the greatest influence.
Moses stuttered.
Jeremiah felt too young.
Gideon hid.
Esther didn’t want the attention.
None of them fit the world’s expectations of leadership.
But God chose them because they were humble, tender, sensitive, and quiet— qualities that keep a leader aligned with God rather than ego.
I, too, grew up reluctant.
Not because I lacked ability, but because I didn’t desire power.
And that, I now see, is exactly why God keeps placing me in roles where others naturally follow.
In the OR.
In my coaching.
In conversations with hurting women.
In private moments no one sees.
It’s not the loudness of my voice but the purity of my heart that makes people feel safe to lean in.
6. Jesus taught me that leadership is simply loving people well.