Unintentional Mentors

It was a casual “yes” that connected to a million other yeses. It led to some of the most exhausting yet fruitful ministry I have ever been a part of. It also invited me into something that would change me not as a follower of Christ, but would be more influential on my parenting than any book or mentor that I have ever had.

 The student pastor asked me in the lobby one Sunday morning if I would start leading a 6th-grade girls’ small group. I was looking for a place to serve and get connected, as we had just moved to Houston. I wasn’t excited about serving in that age group, but it wasn’t because I am not empathetic to the fact that 6th grade, and the subsequent years, are some of the most challenging and dreaded by the majority of the human race. Many people want to go back and be a kid again, or be in high school, or even college. NOBODY says, “I wish I could go back and be in middle school again.” My own personal 6th grade nightmare was being the lead in the church children’s choir, having to perform inside a cardboard box supposed to be a hymnal, and being sick with terror that my middle school friends might actually come to church that night. In that season, you are over being a kid, but you are completely ill-equipped for the hurricane of teenage ridiculousness that you are soon to be swept up in. It’s heavy with drama, angst, and emotion. It just wasn’t the on-ramp into student ministry that I was hoping for.

“Sure. I’ll do it.”

I shepherded those dozen or so girls for the next 7 years until they graduated. In their late middle school years, our church was introduced to relational discipleship. This was a completely different way of leading, and the most intentional discipleship framework that I had ever experienced. Having the gift of teaching, I loved to share information, model delight in the Word and share the joy of getting to know God through it. Of course, there will always be a place for that. But these small group environments were different. They were designed to step away from facts and information, and create an environment where the Holy Spirit is the Teacher. Critical guidelines served as guardrails helped maintain an atmosphere of transparency, of safety and of growth. I would be facilitating and responsible for maintaining that environment. It meant more questions, and less answers. It meant more quiet, with less talking. It meant guarding confidentiality and the safety of the group at all cost (no small feat for teenage girls!) I saw the effects of holding place for Him to speak, whisper, and work. I saw the power of waiting and of silence. Because of the years we experienced together in that framework, nothing could ever convince me that going back to “me--teacher, you--student” was superior. The way these girls interacted with the Word and were challenged by the Spirit and each other completely put to rest my temptation to pick up the mic every week. Because I wasn’t teaching, I was participating and observing. I was listening and learning from them. Here are a few things I learned . . .

-You don’t have to have an answer for everything. Even if you do have an answer, consider if that is the right time to share it or if it even needs to be shared at all. Giving space for processing and actively listening was one of the biggest gifts given to me in that relational discipleship group. I knew that if I wanted to receive that kind of sharing in my own home, my husband and I had to create that kind of safety and space for them as teenagers. Less answers. More questions. Less talking. More listening.

-Discipleship is a pathway, and so is parenting. Think “Captain of a sailboat,” rather than “Car mechanic.” When you hear something that is “wrong” or “broken,” my previous pattern would be to pull that car over, pop the hood, and fix it right away! The new approach was to take a minute and pause. What direction are we sailing right now? Is there a course correction needed? It doesn’t have to be a response to every cotton-pickin’ thing that isn’t “right.” This was, and is, huge for me. I needed to learn to listen. I learned the value of restraint in my immediate reaction and gave space for prayer and thought. Sometimes they needed space to process, and so did I. I needed to ask questions to learn more, and refrain from reacting to my initial assumptions. To be clear, I have a lot of room to grow in this skilI. But I shudder to think how treacherous the teen years could’ve been for my children if I hadn’t even been trying to learn to listen, and had zero restraint in my desire to help, fix, or correct! In that girls’ small group, I saw the beauty of holding space for sharing and processing. My faith began to increase as I saw the Spirit impact in the most profound ways without a word from me or my co-facilitator. I needed to grow in patience and hold space for His work. Not only is this a journey—both in discipling students and parenting--but it’s primarily a relationship. My previous “pop the hood and fix this thing!” lends itself to actually breaking the very thing I am trying to build in both cases. Relational discipleship invited me to be intentional instead of reactionary. Of course, intentional conversations need to be planned, and that is always more fruitful than “whacking” issues as they come up. I saw the effects of the casual critical comments made by parents and what they did to the heart of their daughters.  I also saw what it took to earn the right to hear her heart and get a glimpse of what she was wrestling with in her relationship with God. It was a holy privilege, and it created a holy fear in me to guard that privilege. I desperately want to continue to grow in this.

-Be in constant awareness that change is happening every day, in your kid. They are growing and getting older, and it takes constant vigilance for parents to adjust the responsibilities and privileges as change comes. I saw some parents make appropriate adjustments in responsibilities and freedoms as their kids grew...  even leaving room for missteps but being present to address and debrief along the way. I saw some parents who never seemed to notice that their kid was growing up at all. I also saw some who lost all purpose and identity when their kid graduated and went to college. I don’t mention these in judgment. Parenting teens and shepherding them toward launch is one of the hardest things to do on the planet! These families became unintentional mentors to me. I had the opportunity to be awake to the process of launch, decide what the goal was, and give intention to how we were going to get there. Relational discipleship gave me a framework for this path. The “launch sequence” of a high school kid parallels what we discuss in relational discipleship... observing how Jesus gave appropriate invitations into ministry, as well as intentionally sending them out. For the disciples, sometimes an appropriate ask was picking up baskets of leftovers. Sometimes it was being sent out two by two to share what He had shared with them. Even though they were sent out independently, they huddled up for a debrief when they got back. Jesus’ pattern of releasing to appropriate independence, but being present to guide and make adjustments as needed, was a critical observation for me with those girls. And something I have tried to implement with my own children.

-Confidentiality and trust are foundational. Our small group was reminded regularly that if someone was hurting them or they were hurting themselves, the circle of confidence had to be opened and other voices invited in. I reminded them of that often, and of course, there were heartbreaking times that we had to walk that out together. For my own teenagers, there were some difficult times when my kids might confide in me stupidity that involved other people’s kids. I had to decide if someone else’s kid being stupid was worth risking the trust I had with my own. In situations when a daughter’s friend was harming herself intentionally or unintentionally, there were times the information had to be communicated to other parties. If I deemed kids were dancing on the edge of dumb, and my kids were using me as a safe place to process and figure out their own proximity to “dumb,” I decided it wasn’t worth breaching their confidence. These are never easy choices; it became a prayerful decision to maintain my kids’ confidence with the utmost trust, but share the information that needed to be shared when other kids’ choices put themselves at risk.

-Appropriate vulnerability breeds empathy. It also helps us as parents remember how dang hard it is to be a teenager. I was more empathetic to my own kids because I had just watched those girls navigate middle school and high school. I saw the heaviness that rested on them. Not only are they navigating relationships with parents, peers and boys, as well as the beast of social media and the fire hydrant of culture yelling at them constantly through all those mediums, but they have a boulder on their back about their futures and their academic careers. The volunteer hours, the weighted classes, the class rank, and the GPA. Whereas our small group had experienced incredible fruitfulness in spiritual maturity during the early years of high school, I saw them step back from their consistency to group and church, and some, their relationship to God as high school progressed. The demands of school, extracurricular activities and sports, the pressure of parents … the momentum of the previous years came to a halt for several of the girls. I began to call it “playing the game.” This imprint caused me to check myself when I was tempted to put academic pressure on my own kids and lose site of the priority of discipleship, and relationship with God and with our family. The spiritual development that teenagers have the opportunity to wrestle out in high school is significant, and it seemed foolish to exchange that for a class rank, an acceptance letter to a certain college, or a championship trophy. These relationships and spiritual transformation have the potential for eternal impact. When I was in high school, I was one of the kids who “played the game.” I am grateful that my perspective adjusted only because of my small group girls. I wanted Chloe and Claire to be challenged, to follow actual academic interest and passions. But stacking a semester with dreaded weighted classes to pad the stats, getting on a certain travel team, or getting the volunteer hours cord at graduation? Nah.

-Maintaining a safe environment for my own teenagers to share freely became of upmost importance to me. I saw the gift I was given in that small group circle every week to hear all that was going on in their hearts and realized that most parents didn’t have the opportunity to hear half of that. I decided it was a worthy attempt to try to pull the elements from that circle that made it safe for those young women to share and make them the norms in our home. I wanted them to be able to share when they were upset (even upset with me or my husband). I wanted them to feel respected as people with valid perspectives and opinions, and not just bossed around or talked down to. The other part of this was to be available to them, which was usually at the most inconvenient times. It was often when it was late, and I was exhausted. But I saw the consistency of my availability was foundational, whether it was a response to one of my small group girls via text or a phone call, or staying up another hour for one of my children who needed to process her day while sitting on the edge of my bed. It didn’t mean that I was sitting around waiting for them to engage, but I began to look for times and ways to connect. For example, when we needed a babysitter for our adult small group in our home, I asked one of my small group girls, who was going to need a ride to and from our house to be able to do it. But that would be talk time and conversation on our drive, as well as her being in our home on a regular basis. When one of my own girls showed interest in talking or signs of a heavy heart, I would set down what I was doing whenever possible, or even try to be spontaneous (not my norm!) and maybe plan a late-night dessert out on a random Tuesday night. Giving space to hold their words for the treasure that they are was something I tried to leave at the top of the priority list for that season.  

-Being self-aware of how I carried myself in my children’s presence and in their spaces was an unintended lesson I learned from my small group girls. One of our guidelines was being aware of how you affect the circle or the room. It was never lost on me that my children didn’t get a choice about their dad being the pastor of their church. Because of that, I thought they should get a choice about their mom teaching in front of their peers, particularly on sensitive topics, or even how involved I was in student ministry at the time. I didn’t invite them into that discussion because they were in charge and called the shots. It just seemed like it was respectful for them to be honored in their space, and for me to ask about their level of comfort with me in it. For the record, most of the time it was a “heck yeah!” Only a few times did I get a, “No, thanks.” I always respected the “no’s” and stayed on the sidelines or stepped back. Sometimes kids are embarrassed because they haveparents. That is unfortunate and unavoidable, of course. But I always felt sorry for kids whose parents didn’t seem to have any awareness of how they presented themselves at a ballgame or school event. Sometimes parents even seemed to enjoy embarrassing their kid. This tears down with both hands anything we would want to build with our kids, for the present or the long term. If in question, we could be brave and ask our kids if they have any feedback for us about what it feels like to be on the other side of us as parents. Consider implementing some changes without defensiveness. That could possibly be a fruitful thing for us as parents to practice.  My guess is that it invites us into more spaces if our kids can trust that we are mindful of their expectations and desires. It’s worth a try.

Prior to the teen years, I’ve heard it said that parents are in the “care” stage, and then the “cop” stage. We are establishing ourselves as the trusted, loving parent. We are given the responsibility to establish the guidelines and the culture of our home. The foundation gets laid during those early and elementary years. Spiritually speaking, a foundation of knowledge about God’s character and His ways given in those early years. In the teen years, that foundation is ready to be interacted with, internalized, and wrestled out. The seven years with the girls relational small group gave me the opportunity to see the beauty in discipleship lived out in relationship, with intentional guardrails maintaining the atmosphere. This is not a formula by any means, but it does create a greenhouse for connection and transformation. I was invited to do my part in setting that stage. As those small group girls graduated, I turned my attention to my two middle school girls. I had seven years of reps under my belt, and it launched me forward in so many ways. I am still walking it out, learning and growing, stumbling and bumbling. But they are principles that we were invited into, and those now are practices characterized our home.

Our girls are now college-age, instead of pre-teens. Our family meeting last Monday night included an epic amount of calendaring, but it also included some listening, some conflict, some statements like “Oh, I see that now. I see how that affected you. Sorry about that.” And mostly, I just listened. I found myself wanting to jump in the pool of conversation, but I heard my internal voice say, “Do you really need to talk right now? Can you just take it in?” No perfection to flaunt here.  No, “we have this all figured out.” Still walking on a pathway. Listening. Thinking. Praying. Learning as we go, with some awesome guardrails that mirror the way Jesus modeled relationship to guide us.

Those small group girls are now married or in grad school. Some are working in their careers and some are now mothers themselves. Somewhere along the way, the student ministry kids bestowed on me the name, “Momma Rob.” I wear the name with pride, and in awe of the Lord and of the journey that “yes” sent me on.  He invited me to grow alongside them and learn from them, when I mistakenly thought I was going to be the one handing out all the learning. I am forever grateful to Jesus, and to them.