The One Who Told Moses to Sit Down

What an ancient leadership moment still says about mentoring, humility, and the courage to stop going it alone.

There is a moment in the life of Moses that most leadership books only half tell.

He is managing one of the most complex organizational challenges in recorded history: a few hundred thousand people, constant conflict, no institutional infrastructure, and a divine mandate he’s still trying to understand. He is doing what capable leaders often do: he is handling everything himself.

His father-in-law watches for a day. Then he says, quietly, what no one else had said: You cannot do this alone. What you are doing is not good.

Jethro was not a subordinate. He was not a peer. He was someone older, outside the system, an outsider to the community entirely, not merely the organizational chart, and willing to say the uncomfortable thing. And Moses, to his credit, listened.

That exchange is one of the oldest mentoring moments in the leadership literature. To be precise: Jethro did not tell Moses to sit down. He told him to stop sitting alone, to step down from the isolated seat of sole authority and build something more sustainable. The title takes liberties with the text. But the principle holds.

And it still describes something most leaders quietly need, and almost never ask for.

“Jethro did not tell Moses to sit down. He told him to stop sitting alone.”

One of the questions I am asked most often is: How do you find a mentor?

My honest answer is that most people are asking the wrong question. The better question is: Am I the kind of person a mentor would want to invest in?

I have seen this repeatedly confirmed: the mentee's quality determines the quality of the mentoring. The most productive relationships are driven by learners who come prepared, ask honest questions, listen without defensiveness, act on what they receive, and take full ownership of their own growth. Mentoring rarely works when someone is looking just for answers. It works when someone is committed to becoming more than they currently are.

I have sat across from leaders who came looking for a coach and did not know it. They wanted someone to help them close a specific gap, a skill, a habit, a transition. That is legitimate work. A coach does that well.

A mentor does something different. They are not there to fix a particular problem. They are there to stay, to accompany you across the longer arc of your professional and personal life, through the decisions that do not have clean answers and the seasons that do not have clear ends.

For me, a mentor is someone who:

• Has at least ten years more experience than you in your field or area of focus

• Demonstrates the kind of character and integrity you would want to grow into

• Has a track record that earns the right to speak

• Lives in a way you would aspire to emulate

And they must have two things that cannot be negotiated:

First, they genuinely have your best interests at heart.

Second, you have given them explicit permission to speak honestly into your life.

“Most people want honest input. Far fewer are genuinely prepared to receive it.”

That second one is harder than it sounds. Most people want honest input. Far fewer are genuinely prepared to receive it.

A mentor is not a therapist, nor a close friend, though friendship often develops over time. They are not available for every frustration, and they do not carry your answers. What they carry is something rarer: the willingness to stay in the conversation long enough to ask the question you have been avoiding.

Many people who approach me for mentoring have read something I’ve written or attended a talk. They are interested. But interest is not readiness. In practice, only a small percentage are genuinely ready for what mentoring requires: sustained commitment, vulnerability, and the willingness to be told something uncomfortable and stay in the room.

That is why I typically begin with one to three conversations before agreeing to anything ongoing. It allows both of us to assess whether there is genuine fit, mutual respect, and the kind of trust that makes honest conversation possible.

Mentoring, at its best, is a relationship. And like any real relationship, it takes time to build the foundation.

In my own experience, avoid choosing a mentor who sits within your direct reporting structure. The dynamics of accountability make honest conversation difficult. A mentor who exists outside your immediate chain of command, and in some cases outside your organization entirely, is often better positioned to give you the perspective you actually need, rather than the perspective that is safe.

Jethro was not part of the Israelite leadership structure. He had no stake in the organizational outcome. That, in part, is what made him useful.

A great mentor will not live your life for you. They will not make your decisions or carry your weight.

What they will do is something quieter and more lasting: they will help you see yourself more clearly. They will ask the questions you’ve been avoiding. And over time, they will help you become the kind of leader you are capable of being, not by solving your problems, but by refusing to let you stay small.

“A great mentor will not live your life for you. What they will do is something quieter and more lasting.”

Moses listened. And the work got better.

The question is whether you are willing to do the same.

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Who has been a Jethro in your leadership journey? And what made you willing to listen? Share your story in the comments. Someone reading this needs to hear it.

If this resonated, pass it on to a leader who needs a Jethro, or who needs to become one.