America doesn’t have a shortage of critics. It has a shortage of builders.
Recently, my friend Michael Johnson passed away. Michael served as CEO of the Boys & Girls Clubs, but that’s not what I remember most about him. What I remember is that he was a builder.
After a devastating hurricane struck Florida, Michael wasn’t posting opinions online. He was standing in a warehouse helping coordinate truckloads of water, diapers, and supplies headed south. When children needed Christmas gifts, he brought people together to make it happen. When it became clear that the COVID-19 pandemic would close schools and impact families already struggling, he convened donors and philanthropists to raise more than $200,000 literally overnight. When protests erupted downtown Madison, leaving business storefronts shattered, Michael showed up with brooms and a cadre of youth to clean up the next day. No judgment, no political statement, just willingness to help.
When communities faced challenges, his instinct was rarely to ask who was to blame. His instinct was to ask what could be built. That question feels increasingly rare.
We live in a time when tearing something down is often rewarded faster than building something up. Criticism spreads quickly. Outrage attracts attention. Division fills timelines, dominates conversations, and often passes for leadership.
Pointing out what is broken is easy. Helping fix it is harder. Criticism can diagnose a problem, but it rarely solves one.
There is no shortage of things that need building. Communities continue to wrestle with health disparities. Loneliness and depression affect millions of people. Families experience homelessness. Students struggle to read at the level they need to thrive. Around the world, wars and rumors of wars remind us how fragile peace can be.
The needs are real. The question is whether enough people are willing to build.
Looking back, what made Michael different wasn’t simply his willingness to help. Plenty of people care, and will pitch in when asked. What separated Michael was ownership. Most people are willing to identify a problem, and hope someone takes charge to fix it.
That’s the difference between critics and builders. Critics often measure problems. Builders accept responsibility for them.
True leaders are builders, not because they are obsessed with growth, influence, or recognition, but because they care about people. Where others see problems, builders see potential. Where others see obstacles, builders create opportunities. Their greatest satisfaction comes from helping people succeed, grow, and shine.
Builders do not ignore problems. They simply refuse to stop at identifying them. Criticism may describe a burden, but builders help carry it. They bring people together, connect resources, and create solutions that leave communities stronger than they found them.
Every generation faces a choice. We can spend our lives criticizing what is broken, or we can spend our lives helping build what is needed.
Building takes patience. It requires effort, persistence, and a willingness to keep going long after the attention has moved elsewhere.
Yet every thriving family, organization, school, neighborhood, church, business, and community exists because somebody chose to build.
America doesn’t need more people standing on the sidelines explaining what’s wrong. It needs more builders willing to step onto the field and help make things better.
The builders we need now are the people willing to roll up their sleeves, invest in others, accept responsibility, and leave things better than they found them. Michael Johnson was one of those builders.
Michael never spent much time asking who was responsible for a problem. He spent his time asking what could be built. That’s the question more of us should be asking.
