Several years ago, I was asked to co-present on mentorship at the 2022 Free Will Baptist Leadership Conference with Eric K. Thomsen, who was my youth pastor when I was growing up. The idea was to demonstrate the mentor-mentee cycle: someone invested in him, he invested in me, now I invest in others, who will hopefully invest in yet others. We were asked to present again at the 2025 D6 Conference in Washington. This post represents an adaptation of my portion of that presentation where I make four recommendations for mentorship.
1. Be available.
When I think about mentorship, I think firstly about availability. Eric was available—with his time, with his thoughts, with his emotions. He was there, and he was real. I now know how busy he was (and is). But I never—not once—sensed a man who “didn’t have the time” for me. I asked lots of questions: questions about Jesus and girls and genealogies (yes, genealogies) and temptation and miracles and the end times and movies and all kinds of things. Eric was there for all of them, doing his best to answer them.
Mentorship requires profound patience on the mentor’s part. But availability is patient; it is longsuffering. When we look to Jesus’ example, we see that He was available to people, especially His disciples. He invested in them, and He engaged their questions (including their silly questions). So, would you be available, even to the youth who asks a thousand questions?
2. Take people seriously.
One of the authors to whom Eric introduced me was C. S. Lewis. Through the decades, I have benefitted tremendously from his writing. Lewis once criticized the way some authors patronize children:
The child as reader is neither to be patronized nor idolized: we talk to him as man to man. . . . Once in a hotel dining-room I said, rather too loudly, ‘I loathe prunes.’ ‘So do I,’ came an unexpected six-year-old voice from another table. Sympathy was instantaneous. Neither of us thought it funny. We both knew that prunes are far too nasty to be funny. That is the proper meeting between man and child as independent personalities.[1]
Now, I happen to like prunes. But Lewis is instructive: it can be tempting not to take young people too seriously. Eric succumbed to no such temptation. He did not ignore me or disregard me. He took me (in all my absurdity and silliness) seriously.
Now, this characteristic can require great empathy on the mentor’s part because a genuine meeting of the minds can be difficult. Perhaps it is difficult because you know that this thing Johnny is so concerned about is not really a big deal. Or perhaps it is difficult because you know a certain line of questioning could lead Johnny to a dangerous place.
Whatever the case, good mentors empathize with others because it is what Jesus did. He met people where they were; His responses could be sharp or compassionate, but they were always precisely what people needed. If we rejoice with those rejoice, and weep with those weep (Romans 12:15), then we also struggle with those who struggle and question with those who question. Empathy does not require affirming people in their wrong-headed ideas; it means taking them seriously. It is better that you, as a God-fearing Christian seeking to conserve the truth of God’s Word, take Johnny seriously because, if you do not, someone else who does not fear God will.
3. Be honest.
In taking youth seriously, we should also be honest with them. As followers of the One Who said, “I am the Truth” (John 14:6), we must tell the truth.
Eric told the truth; he was honest. He showed wisdom and demonstrated propriety in how he told the truth, but he was honest. Honesty can be hard because it may mean the person with whom you are being honest rejects you because of it. But true mentorship is willing to risk the rejection of the mentee for the sake of the mentee—for the sake of his or her maturity in the Truth.
I once shared a meal with someone I mentor, who feels deeply for people. He asked me, “Mr. Bracey, how can you be honest with people but not hurt their feelings?” That is a great question but a tough one. I thought immediately of Jesus, Who was somehow full of both grace and truth (John 1:14). We must be profoundly truthful, and we must be profoundly gracious and kind, because we are disciples of Jesus.
Forewarning: The execution of this principle can be challenging. For one thing, we are not Jesus; we will stumble where He succeeds. But when we stumble, our mistake becomes an opportunity to demonstrate humility toward whomever we have wronged. A second challenge concerns the point that no two situations are the same. Hence, the precise application of truth and grace will depend on the particulars. So, in these circumstances, we must seek God’s face and ask for wisdom (Psalm 27:8; Proverbs 1:1–7).
Honesty can be difficult, but it can also be fun. As a silly example, fourteen-year-old boys have serious questions about the grand mysteries of life: like sex. Eric showed tact and propriety, but he was honest; he was real. So, mentors are honest. But honesty is not simply about what we say; it is also in how we present ourselves.
4. Be you.
Finally, Eric was (and is) Eric. He did not try to be anyone else; he did not try to keep up with the changing fads of “cool.” I did not need a “cool” mentor; I needed an “adult” mentor. I knew “cool” kids, and their example hindered, not helped, my spiritual growth. Mentees need a model of what it means to be a mature adult. Even if a mentee does not follow that example in the moment, he may in the future, and at least he gains a picture to which he can refer later in life.
Being you is not just about being some generic adult; it is about being who God made you to be for the sake of others being who God made them to be. When I think of the younger people with whom I spend quality time and how we have come to form a relationship, it occurs to me I did not seek them out per se. Our friendships have developed organically around common interests. You being you, and not someone else, allows you to build relationships with people who share your interests. If you were to become someone else, you could not, in the same way, mentor those same people.
Eric was interested in things like hiking and traveling and music and theology. His mentorships have formed with people interested in those topics. I like running and politics and the arts and theology and writing and reading and the country. Hence, my mentor relationships have tended to form with people interested in those topics. The point is for you to be you—who God made youto be.
In this way, mentorship does not become “something extra” on your plate; it is part of what you are doing anyway. Eric was going hiking anyway. So, what did he do? He invited me to go with him, and I did—and I found myself in the middle of a terrible wood on a rainy weekend with a fierce tornado coming within a mile of our camp site (not kidding).
In my case, I am going to run or talk about movies or eat and whatever. So quite literally, with one of my friends, I invite him to run with me, and we discuss the issues of life—running, engagement, family, death, home buying, church leadership, graduate school, politics, etc. With another friend, we discuss the latest movies, analyzing their themes, their scores, and so on. Mentorship takes place everywhere—on the greenway, at the dinner table, along the trail, in the car—and it concerns everything because it is fundamentally about life. But you must be you.
Sometimes you being you may reveal some qualities about yourself you were unaware of. Sometimes the Lord will give you people seeking your input into their lives, and you will think, “Him? What on earth do we have in common?” Perhaps you have more in common than you realize; whatever the case, he sees something in you, so mentor whomever God gives you.
Conclusion
Mentorship is a cycle: a mentor mentors a mentee who then becomes a mentor who mentors a mentee and so on.
But I leave you with a warning: Jesus did not bat a thousand, and neither will we. Some people will make you proud; others will break your heart. C. S. Lewis, who I mentioned earlier, had helpful insight into that point:
To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.[2]
Love people. Invest in them. But know it is not for the weak of spirit; it requires real fortitude. Know it is a hard work but also a good one. I am a beneficiary of godly mentors. You are beneficiaries of godly mentors. Now, let us pay it forward.
[1] C. S. Lewis, “On Three Ways of Writing for Children,” in On Stories and Other Essays on Literature (Orlando, FL: Harcourt, 1982), 42.
[2] C. S. Lewis, The Four Loves (1960; repr., Orlando, FL: Harcourt, 1988), 121.
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