A Prayer for Those Who Impact Others

Why Private Virtue Must Come Before Public Impact

Having the ability to impact others—whether it’s a family, a team, a congregation, an organization, or followers online, the weight that comes with it can be both an incredible gift and a sobering responsibility.

Ever since I first became a father and a pastor, a simple prayer has stuck with me—and sometimes haunted me—in my own journey:

“God, always grant me character that exceeds my gifts, and humility that exceeds my impact. Amen.”

It’s a bold prayer, one that echoes David’s plea in Psalm 139 for God to search his heart and reveal any faults within him. This prayer asks God for something deeper than success—it asks for character qualities like integrity and humility. But praying this way is not without cost. If we dare to ask God to elevate our character, we must be prepared for Him to shape us in ways we may not expect or desire.

The Cost of Character Formation

God's work in shaping character often comes through refining fire. When we ask Him to deepen our integrity, He may first strip away the very things we thought defined us.

Impact may shrink.
Platforms may diminish.
Applause may go silent.

Consider the Apostle Paul, a man of towering intellect and spiritual depth, yet plagued by what he called a "thorn in the flesh." Scholars debate what this thorn was—illness, opposition, or something else—but Paul recognized it as a gift that kept him humble. God’s answer to his repeated prayers for relief was not healing as we understand healing to be, but the pledge of sufficient grace:

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Corinthians 12:9).

This is the paradox of impact in God’s kingdom. To elevate our character, He may need to diminish or even destroy our visible “success.”

To teach us humility, He may allow our impact to wane.

Yet, in God’s economy, what looks like loss is often gain.

The prophet Isaiah’s life offers a striking example. Today, Isaiah is revered as one of the greatest of all prophets, whose words have inspired masterpieces like Handel's Messiah and whose vision of the suffering servant points directly and famously to Christ. He is by far the most quoted Old Testament prophet in the New Testament, including from the mouth of Jesus Himself. What an honor! Yet in his lifetime, Isaiah witnessed little impact from his own ministry. His warnings, promises, and even his beautiful poetry fell on deaf ears. Instead of giving him a Nobel Prize or a Grammy or a thank you, tradition tells us that the people of his day sawed him in two.

By worldly standards, Isaiah’s preaching career could be seen as a complete failure. But in God’s story, Isaiah’s impact was—and still is—immeasurable.

The same pattern unfolds in the lives of the apostles. Eleven of the twelve were martyred, and the twelfth, John, spent his final days exiled on the barren island of Patmos. None of them saw the global impact of their ministry. All they had at the time of death was a promise that had not yet been fulfilled. Their impact was not measured in followers or recognition but in their faithfulness. Their legacy endures today, all over the world, as those whose courage and character was forged in obedience and suffering.

Redefining Impact

In our achievement-driven culture, impact is often equated with visibility, platform, and fame. The bigger the stage and the larger the crowds, the greater the perceived impact. But God measures differently. A wider reach does not necessarily mean deeper impact. A smaller stage does not mean less significance.

The widow and her mite come to mind.

So does the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well.

So does the prostitute who washed Jesus’ sacred, dirty feet with her hair.

So do the brushed off little children, to whom belong the kingdom of God.

So do solo pastors. And stay-at-home moms and dads. And self employed individuals barely scraping by who also tithe. And faithful spouses who attend church alone. And elderly people praying the Lord’s Prayer in quiet houses and isolating nursing home rooms.

So does Jesus, the King on a cross.

Jesus modeled showing up in what we would deem the least likely places. He spent most of His ministry investing in twelve ordinary men, teaching, correcting, and loving them. He often withdrew from crowds to pray or to spend intimate moments with His disciples. His most impactful act before resurrection—His crucifixion—was witnessed by only a few.

Yet no life has shaped history more than His.

This truth, this history—His-story—is a source of strength and comfort for us. Whether we lead from a pulpit, a boardroom, a classroom, a laptop, or a kitchen table, God sees and values faithfulness over fame. For the mother shaping the hearts of her children, the manager quietly coaching an employee, the CEO humbly taking the blame for her team’s mistakes, the teacher inspiring curiosity in a classroom, and the friend offering a listening ear—these are sacred acts of leadership and impact.

Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians 13 that without love, even the most impressive gifts and achievements amount to nothing. The greatest legacy we leave is not built on resumes or accolades or crowds but on prayers and relationships marked by love, humility, and integrity.

The Hidden Grace in Obscurity

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German pastor and theologian who opposed Hitler's regime, once said, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” Bonhoeffer didn’t just say these words; he lived them. His resistance to Hitler and Nazi ideology cost him his freedom and, ultimately, his life. He never lived to see the end of the war or the widespread impact of his writings. Yet his faithfulness in the shadows became a beacon for generations.

Bonhoeffer’s story challenges us to embrace the hidden places. God does some of His most profound work in us and through us when no one is watching.

Obscurity is not failure; it can be fertile ground for character to grow.

Impactful leaders and others often face the temptation to chase recognition, but the most enduring impact comes from quiet faithfulness. As Jesus taught, “The last will be first, and the first last” (Matthew 20:16).

Embracing the (Scary) Prayer

So, what happens when we truly pray:

“God, grant me character that exceeds my gifts, and humility that exceeds my impact”?

We open ourselves to God’s refining work. We accept that His priority is not our success and comfort, but our sanctification and character. We trust that the path of humility is better than the path of self-promotion. And we believe that unseen faithfulness will, as it always has, bear fruit far beyond our lifetime.

This prayer is not just for pastors or ministry leaders. It’s for anyone who has been entrusted with leadership and impact—in homes, businesses, creative spaces, and communities.

Sarah was a religious cynic before she was the mother of nations.

Rahab was a prostitute before she was a faith hero.

David was a shepherd before he was a king.

Paul was a tentmaker as well as an apostle.

And, through disruptive and traumatic means, God put two things in each of their hearts: character and humility.

“God, grant me character that exceeds my gifts, and humility that exceeds my impact.”

If we dare to pray this way, God will upend and reshape our definition of success. Our impact may grow smaller in the eyes of the world, but larger in the things that matter most. We may be surprised as Henri Nouwen was to find joy in the hidden work, peace in the unnoticed service, and satisfaction in the simple, faithful obedience to Christ. What’s more, we may even begin to see even thorns in the flesh as gifts (2 Corinthians 12:7-10), suffering as an occasion for rejoicing (Romans 5:3-5), and persecution, insults, and slander as reasons to rejoice and be glad (Matthew 5:10-12).

In the end, the fruit of this prayer for character and humility is a life well-lived, one marked by love, integrity, and humble service. As Paul reminds us, “Therefore, my beloved brothers (and sisters), be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:58).

May we lead with character greater than our gifts and humility greater than our impact. And may we trust that through the good, bad, and ugly of our lives, God is always up to something holy, meaningful, and good.