It’s 1996, I’m 16 years old. My haircut’s faded, my jeans are baggy, and my down filled jacket is big enough to fit me along with two more friends. Slouching in my chair at the back of the classroom was my standard swag for Wednesday night youth meeting. As a church kid, this was one of the few social arenas I had access to, so I made it a point to stand out and be recognized. Yes, I’m in church, but as long as I’m here I will be the coolest church kid in the room and you will recognize me. Standard teenage mentality.
At the front of the room stood the clean-cut, pristine young adult youth leaders. Hair combed right, shirt tucked into their khakis with a crease, and hands raised at the perfect instrumental change during praise and worship. Church perfection at its finest.
Whether on purpose or not, they were our “chosen” role models. The ones my fellow teenage friends and I were destined to be like. Deep down underneath our urban Christian subculture front, it was what we secretly wanted. To be like them.
One day we wanted to be married. One day we wanted to travel and lead missions teams. And until that day we wanted to be led by our mythical young adult heroes. Because they were so cool and they had it all together. Why would we not want to be mentored by them?
I had never heard of Ron Luce until someone gave me his Acquire the Fire devotional. It was a random act of kindness from our associate pastor at church. He had to be at least in his 70s at the time. The gift shouldn’t have come across as a surprise to me. This was a man who had constantly checked up on me and showed authentic concern for my spiritual growth. He was also a man who was humble enough to work in the background during youth and young adult missions trips, all the while sharing wisdom and encouragement.
When I think about the affect this older mentor had on my life and in the lives of other teenagers, I realize he’s a walking, breathing version of Proverbs 20:29: “The glory of young men is their strength, and the beauty of old men is their gray head.” I rarely had an issue finding a young adult role model to look up to from a distance. But to have a father figure lead you, put his arm around you, and say he loved you and was praying for you was invaluable. And frankly, we don’t experience this kind of mentorship enough.
At some point we need to realize that we need to stop believing the lies that older men and women are disconnected from the issues and challenges our generation faces, that they won’t understand, and that there’s nothing left to learn from them.
The simple truth is this: there’s so much to gain from older mentors. They’ve lived in times and places we will never have the opportunity to experience. Their stories have a mysterious way of connecting the dots. And the wisdom they share keeps our dreaming generation grounded and accountable.
Some of the most important lessons I’ve learned have been through relationships with people older and wiser than me. Why have I learned so much from them? Because their battle scars tell no lies.
Flickr photo (cc) by bthomso
