I’ve been asked by members of our Conference to mentor a young woman considering ministry. At first, I thought, “Who me…a mentor? Don’t you have to be old and full of wisdom to do that?”
And while I often feel old, I rarely if ever feel wise, which in my estimation leaves me only half qualified to take on a role of such import.
As I’m not entirely sure what a mentor is (besides a buzz word in leadership circles these days) I decided to look it up. Apparently, in Greek mythology the goddess Athena disguised herself as Mentor (a friend of Odysseus) and in that form gave encouragement and advice to a young man named Telemachus. Thus, according to Wikipedia “the personal name Mentor has been adopted in English as a term meaning someone who imparts wisdom to and shares knowledge with a less experienced colleague.”
Who knew?
Sounds to me like mentor could also mean “goddess in disguise.”
Seeking outside counsel I talked with Jake about mentoring and what he thought it was all about. He reflected that becoming a good mentor involves building trust and rapport. And “it requires the most precious of things… time.”
“Do you consider yourself a mentor,” I asked him.
“I never really thought about it, but I guess I am. I offer mentorship to my students, those who are open to it anyway, just like you offer mentorship to the congregation.”
I think he could tell I was unconvinced, especially regarding me being a mentor.
“You know when the kids at church come up to you and share stuff that’s happened in their week, and you listen? You’re being a mentor. Or when you talk to them about being kind to one another and then show them what that’s like by being kind to them. You’re being a mentor.”
He continued. “And you know how when we first got together you had never been camping in Algonquin? Never been in the back country?”
My mind went back to this past Sunday’s service when I preached on being in the wilderness…If you want to know who you are and what you’re made of, go into the wilderness…for which I used examples from personal experience of being in the wilds of Algonquin, leeches and all. Apparently, my sermon made quite an impression effectively convincing more than one person in my congregation never to go camping. Oops.
“Okay, so what about camping?”
“Well, you didn’t really know what you were doing at first, right?”
I waited to see where he was going.
He grinned. “But I did, and thanks to my mentorship, you got better at it.”
It’s true. Jake really helped me appreciate the outdoors in a new way. And with him by my side I had increased confidence to try things I hadn’t before…like carrying a 55 lb. canoe along with a 50 lb. pack over rocky terrain, or hanging bear bags, or paddling hard into a head wind. His quiet confidence in me, “You got this,” was an anchor especially in those moments of complete self-doubt. His advice to “Hold the paddle this way,” and directions to, “Stay calm,” when times called for it provided moments of learning and clarity.
Jake said that being a mentor involved trust, rapport and time. He’s right. And it involves sharing what you know and what you love with someone else–offering it openly and gladly without expectation. What a privilege.
It made me think about that young woman considering ministry. The wilds of ministry. I do love it, and suddenly, the thought of supporting someone discover their way within it is enormously appealing and humbling.
Jake said he’d like to think that some of my love of the outdoors and of camping (and I do love camping) has come from his mentorship. I hadn’t thought about it before, but he is absolutely right. He was willing to spend time with me in the wilderness…and truth be known, it has made all the difference in the world.
Week of Sundays 
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