The Person You Develop Is More Valuable Than the Person You Hire

I remember the first time someone sat with me after a hard Sunday and didn't try to fix it. They just named what I was carrying. They knew what it cost. And something changed in that moment. Not about my technique, but about what I thought was possible for me.

That's the thing that only happens in a mentoring relationship. 

It's not scalable and I don't think it's supposed to be.

The last church where I was on staff grew in ways I couldn't have imagined. One campus became five. Seven thousand weekly attendees became thirty thousand. Radio, television, things I hadn't dreamed of when I started. I got to watch a local church reach communities in real ways, see people's lives change in real time, and do meaningful work alongside people who've become lifelong friends while our kids grew up together.

The entire experience was a gift.
The opportunities were far beyond what I was ready for.
The mission was visible and real.
Yet I burned out anyway.

Let me be clear. It was not the church's fault. The problem was me. 

My desire to be indispensable because each new vision was more inspiring and urgent than the last. My willingness to run empty as long as the work was impacting people deeply.

I hit a wall.

That crash didn't end my story in the church. It changed it. Since then, I've worked at the level most engineers would love to experience. Red Rocks. Carnegie Hall. Artists I deeply respect. I'm proud of that work. But I still think of myself as a church guy. It's my home. 

That's why I spend so much time working with the people in them.

I don't come to this work from a place of always succeeding. I come from a place of being rebuilt, several times, in fact. 

I've been the burned-out church staff member who needed grace more than competence. I've been shaped by people who didn't look away when I made mistakes. Mentors and coaches who invested in potential I couldn't see. Leaders who believed in repair, not replacement.

This changes how you see others, how much patience you have for someone in the middle of their own journey, and how seriously you take the opportunity to be that mentor figure for someone else.

When people ask me what I'm most proud of, the honest answer has nothing to do with a tour or show. It's the engineers I've had the privilege of working with who figured out that the goal isn't a perfect mix they love. It's a mix that serves their congregation well. Watching that idea click for someone is something I don't have words for.

I know what it means when someone invests in you before you've arrived. And I know that the person you develop is far more valuable than the person you hire.

That's the work I feel responsible for. Not just teaching technique, but investing the way I was invested in. So that more engineers finish the race, not just start it.

The churches I work best with have a few things in common. They have an engineer they believe in. Someone they're not looking to replace, but to invest in. Their church is growing, but their consistency or systems haven't caught up yet. They know their team could operate at a higher level with the right support. And they've decided to invest in people, not just equipment. They're willing to give their engineer time to implement what they learn rather than expecting instant results. Geography doesn't matter. I work on site and virtually with churches nationwide.

This isn't for you If you're looking for an emergency fix this weekend or for someone to confirm that your engineer isn't good enough so you can make a change, I'm not the right fit. I work with leaders who believe in their people and are committed to long-term development.

I limit the number of engagements I take on at any given time so I can show up fully for the people who trust me with their development.

-Gene