How I’m Learning to Lead My Family Without Being a Hypocrite

Spiritual leadership? I’m still figuring it out. No one handed me a manual when I became a husband or dad. No checklist. No script. Just the weight of responsibility and a quiet sense that I didn’t want to screw this up.

And honestly, some days I feel like I’m getting it right. Other days, I wonder if I’m just pretending—just trying to look like the man I want to be while battling the doubt that I’m not even close.

I Don’t Want to Be Fake

I’ve always had a strong sense of duty. Some things, if I mess up, only hurt me. But then there are other things—choices, habits, patterns—that affect the people I love. And those carry a different kind of weight. That’s where the burden hits heavier.

There was this time with my daughter, before she was old enough to get her learner’s permit. Some folks in our family circle wanted me to let her drive around the neighborhood, just for practice. “It’s harmless,” they said. “She’s responsible. It’ll help you two bond.”

But it didn’t sit right with me.

It wasn’t about being uptight. It was about being consistent. I want my kids to know that character is shown in the small, quiet decisions. Following rules even when they don’t make sense. Living by a standard even when no one else is.

So I said no. And when the time came—when she had that permit in her hand—I drove with her. A lot. I sat in that passenger seat, talked her through the turns, helped her stay calm, built her up. And I knew in my gut I’d done right by her. Not because I made a rule and stuck to it, but because I didn’t take a shortcut.

The Prayer Struggle

Now this one… this one’s tough.

Prayer has never come easy for me. Not in public. Not even in private, if I’m honest. My default mode is to stay quiet, stay in my head. So when I get asked to pray for the group, I hesitate. I’d rather someone more “spiritual” step in.

But over the years, I’ve learned that leading spiritually isn’t about saying the perfect words. It’s about showing up. Even when it’s awkward. Especially when it’s awkward.

So I do it. I pray. Not because I feel like some godly man of wisdom—but because I want my family to see that you don’t have to be perfect to talk to God. You just have to show up.

And yeah, I wish I prayed more often. I wish it felt easier. I wish I remembered to do it before I’m neck-deep in stress. But when I’m with my wife and kids and there’s a moment to pray? I take it. Because those are the moments that shape culture in a home. Not the big speeches. The small acts of showing up.

Trying to Lead Without Pretending

There’s this picture we have of what a leader should be: strong, steady, unshakable. Always knows what to say. Always makes the right move.

That’s not me.

I lose my temper. I get overwhelmed. I miss opportunities. I zone out when I should lean in. I say the wrong thing. And I hate that part of myself that wants to look better than I really am.

But I’ve learned that my family doesn’t need a flawless leader. They need an honest one. One who admits when he blew it. One who says sorry. One who resets and keeps going.

That kind of leadership teaches my kids that grace is real. That failure isn’t the end. That we can own our mess and move forward.

I’m Still in the Process

I’m not writing this from the finish line. I’m writing it somewhere in the middle. Some days, I get it right. Some days, I wonder if I ever will.

But I keep showing up.

I keep learning to:

Lead with humility, not pride
Pray when I don’t feel holy
Choose what’s right even when it’s not easy
Let my kids see my faith, not just hear about it

I don’t always hit the mark. But I’ve stopped pretending I should.

What I Hope My Family Sees

I hope they see a man who isn’t faking it.

A man who’s doing the best he can to live what he says he believes. A man who loves God, loves them, and knows he can’t do this without grace.

I hope they know I don’t have it all figured out—but I’m committed to growing.

And I hope they see that when I mess up, I don’t give up. I reset. I reach for truth. I keep going.

That’s what I want to pass down. Not some polished image. But presence. Consistency. The kind of faith that walks through the mud and still keeps going.