Look Me In My Face

I often find myself reflecting on the mentors I’ve had throughout my life.

The first true mentor I can remember is an old basketball coach I met in 7th grade — Coach Corey. He coached me all through my middle school and high school years, and as I became a young adult, he became much more than a coach. He became more than somebody teaching me how to get better at the game I loved.

For the last decade of my life, Coach Corey has been a constant and consistent voice in my life. A safe place to ask questions. A wellspring of wisdom for me to draw from. He encourages me. He holds me accountable. He prays for me. He fights for me, even when I don’t want to fight for myself. He became a spiritual father. He became a true mentor.

The term “mentor” originates from Greek mythology. In Homer’s The Odyssey, Odysseus left for the Trojan War and appointed a trusted friend named Mentor to watch over his son Telemachus and his household. As time passed, young Telemachus grew restless and insecure — and it was Mentor who stepped in to guide him. If you’re unfamiliar with the story, we later find out that Mentor is actually Athena in disguise — the Greek goddess of wisdom.

There are many ways the term “mentor” can be defined, but I love “protector.” The Greek goddess Athena and my old basketball coach had one thing in common: they protected those who were too young to think for themselves.

I’m so thankful for the mentors who have protected me from the heartaches of life — the mentors who looked me in the face and told me I was wrong, who counseled me out of making decisions I would regret. Many had to think for me until I could think for myself.

I’m a youth pastor these days. I spend a lot of time with young people, and I can confidently tell you that there is a generation that desperately needs the generation before them to think for them.

They’re eager to find people who will be a safe space for them to learn and grow without judgment — to counsel them, to challenge them, to protect them. To mentor them.

Many young people are being deeply molded and formed by an algorithm. Many write them off as a generation that is too far gone.

I use this quote often:

“You either learn from mistakes or mentors.”

What if we decided to show a generation our mistakes instead of pointing out their flaws?

What if we were quicker to show our scars to young men and women rather than throw stones at them?

As I look around at the landscape of our nation, world, and culture at large, I really don’t believe the issue is a generation that may never reach their potential — the issue I see is the generations that have gone before them being unwilling to help them reach it.