“What led you to become a preacher?”

It’s a question we’ve heard thousands of times. Our answers only differ by year, location, and mentors. But we ultimately find ourselves at the same root cause—and it still amazes us. “God has chosen the foolish things of this world to confuse the wise, the weak things of this world to confound the strong…”

Looking for exceptional pulpit talent, it would appear, was never on God’s shopping list.

It’s ironic that the preacher to whom God first gave those words about the “chosen”—the Apostle Paul—was one of the more brilliant preachers of his day. Certainly, if anyone deserved his name in lights, it was the rising star from Tarsus with the dramatic, headline-making testimony.

But humility, not headlines, is the staple requirement for the man of God. The Scriptures warn us to “put it on,” to “serve with it,” to “walk in it,” to “be clothed with it.” And it promises that “honor only comes after it.” True humility is that important.

I’m convinced that the newly saved apostle must have shaken his head in amazement at the concept. That’s because Paul’s pre-Christian days were probably filled with everything but humility. In the fraternity of up-and-coming rabbis, he was the blue-chipper, a “can’t miss” prospect—a Pharisee by birth and belief.

Studying under the surname of Saul, he glowed as the prized protégé of Professor Gamaliel. Even the church stood in awe, knees knocking at the mention of his notorious name.

Paul could have written his own ticket for any job in Judaism. But when he met Christ on the Damascus Road, the rules for success changed. No more could he count on sheer talent and tenacity to get him to the top. A new standard had entered the picture. Paul would need more and more of less and less.

God had trumped him.

Three years of training in Arabia—and seven more elsewhere—retooled his thinking. “I am the chief of sinners … the least of all the saints … the least of the apostles … I am nothing.” That wasn’t false humility, for he had met the Savior and everything changed.

Paul discovered his greatness was not in what he did but to Whom he belonged.

It’s always been that way for God’s leaders. Whereas we’re allowed plenty of electives in our spiritual schooling, humility is a required course. And every graduate has his own personal memoirs on the subject. For example:

• For 13 years, Joseph fell in a downward spiral. His resume included the hatred of his brothers, being tossed into a pit to die, being sold to a passing caravan, on parade at an auction block, having to defend his honor against the vile Mrs. Potiphar, and being incarcerated for a crime he did not commit. Through it all, he was wonderfully seasoned to serve as Egypt’s Prime Minister.

• For 40 years, Moses was on the fast track to stardom. As the adopted son of Pharaoh’s daughter, he had the world on a string; four decades of uptown living can do that to a guy. But God required 40 more years of sweat-shop experience, in the middle of nowheresville, in order to make Moses worthy of his assignment to lead God’s people.

• David’s meteoric rise in Israel was unprecedented. Giants fell before him. Songs were written about him. He was Israel’s MVP … and it sent shockwaves through Saul’s palace. For the next 11 years, David was on the run. The darkest caves were his hotel rooms, a group of misfits were his allies, tear-stained psalms were his outlet. And the soft-hearted shepherd became king.

You may be taking a forced march through that same valley right now. But don’t panic—He never takes His children to greatness without this detour. It’s when we resurface from that valley that God’s matured preachers are better equipped to shake a world He loves.

Ron Walters is Senior Vice President of Salem Media Group in Camarillo, California.