I’m working with my church right now on developing a mentoring program for men … a means by which guys can intentionally enter into relationships that will assist them in becoming the husband, father, and Christ-follower God wants them to be. As those of us who are working on this initiative got into the nuts and bolts, we realized there’s a wide range of opinions as to what mentoring should look like … what it means to serve as, or be under, a mentor … or how a mentoring relationship should feel or look different than other relationships.
As I thought about this, I examined the various people who have served as mentors for me. Most of those relationships were informal—it wasn’t like we signed a covenant, or I went to them and asked, “Hey, would you be willing to mentor me?”. But there were some unique characteristics about the relationship to where, as it morphed and grew, it took on the nature of a mentoring relationship and became a source of growth and development in my life. Some relationships lasted for a season and others considerably longer, but all of them had some “common thread” characteristics about them.
They listened. Although the relationship was one where I felt like the other party had some wisdom/life experience/constructive insight I could benefit from, they took time to hear me out and listen to me first. While I wanted to learn from them, I always came away feeling like they valued what I had to say. Although I had much less to offer, I felt like my assessments and thoughts were pondered and mulled over rather than summarily dismissed … and that I occasionally had something to offer that was of benefit to them or contributed to their understanding in a positive way. Even though they had a wealth of insight and life experience to draw on, I was never made to feel menial or less than.
They facilitated. There was a true sense of collegiality about the relationship. Instead of being a time when they could expound and I could absorb—where I was the student and they were the teacher—they’d ask open-ended questions that became the stimulus for a conversation where we’d think through an issue together and I could make a discovery for myself. When I said something, they’d often ask a probing follow-up question where I’d be forced to consider an aspect or dimension of the situation I hadn’t previously considered. They weren’t overly directive but provided gentle and compassionate guidance.
They advocated. I could sense they believed in/trusted me and, as a result, they went to bat for me. They facilitated growth in my life by opening me up to resources that could expand my understanding—books, podcasts, websites, etc. They let me borrow a book from their shelves or facilitated a contact with someone in their network that could offer assistance or insight beyond what they had to offer. I vividly recall a former DS who serves as a mentor for me. I found myself in an incredibly difficult and complex ministry circumstance and he said, “You need to talk to (a high-profile leader in our denomination) about what’s going on. Let me reach out to him.” A couple of days later I got a text message that said, “Here’s his cell phone number and he said to give him a call at your convenience.”
They advised without counseling. While they offered insight and advice, I always felt like they never got so wrapped up in the situation to where they couldn’t maintain a sense of objectivity. As a result, they left the ultimate decision to me—“You know the details of what’s going on more than I do” … “you’re the one that has to live with the consequences, whatever they might be.” Their advice was offered without strings attached. There was no expectation that I do something specific or follow through in a certain way. And if I didn’t do what they thought or believed was best, there wasn’t negative fallout or a fractured relationship to mend. Built into the substance of the relationship was a freedom to disagree … or reach a different conclusion … or not see eye-to-eye on some things.
They were transparent. They’d experienced the grace of God in personal and powerful ways and, as a result, there was an openness/honesty/vulnerability about them. They were willing to pull back the curtain and acknowledge their brokenness. Because they’d experienced the forgiveness and healing work of God—and because He’d walked them through the fallout of their mistakes—there was an openness to going back into their story and acknowledging failure … to say, “Man, I really messed up here. And if I had it do to over again, here’s what I’d do differently.” While a mentor can’t prevent a mentee from experiencing pain or making a mistake, their willingness to be open about the gaffes of their past created an atmosphere of safety and assurance. It fostered a sense of, “While I can’t keep mistakes or painful events from happening, I care about you enough to do what I can to keep you from making the same mistakes I made or experiencing the same heartbreak I experienced.”
I’m convinced one of the things God uses to sculpt and grow us is the relationships in our lives. Every positive faith story has a relational component—godly parents, a Christian friend, a youth pastor, the couple that led the Bible Study on campus … or the role models and mentors in our lives—those folks who took an interest in us, expressed belief in us, opened up to us, and provided input that proved to have considerable worth. Mentoring isn’t that difficult or complicated. In fact, most anyone can do it as long as they’re willing to listen empathetically, ask probing questions, believe in the protégé, offer counsel without expectations or strings attached, and be real about their past misadventures and failures.