Mentor

Mentor.

He called me mentor.

As if it were my name. It was the way I was introduced.

We were walking through his dormitory floor when he ran into one of his friends, his good friends. Someone he doesn’t have to try to impress with a word that gives the illusion of seeking “wise counsel”. Someone he chills with and hangs with and checks in with. They were reconnecting and I stood the side, smiling as I watched their encounter.

“So where you headed, man? What are you up to?”

“Oh, I’m just taking off to spend some time talking to my mentor.” He stated matter-of-factly and head pointed towards my direction with a wiry grin.

The acknowledgement on his part caught me off guard and surprised me. I didn’t have time to keep the shock from registering on my face. My charge laughed gently and easily.

“Oh come on! Don’t look so surprised! You know that’s what you are in my life! And I’m very thankful for that. So...” he turned and looked at his friend, “I’ll catch you later.” Turning back to me, “ready, mentor?”

I smirked as we headed down the stairs.

And my mind was caught on this crazy word. What it meant. All that it entailed.

My young friend brought up this concept three more times in the course of our walk and talk. It was clearly not a spur-of-the-moment declaration to his buddy in the hall but something he had been thinking on. He declared, on no uncertain terms, I was his mentor and he did not intend for that to change.

My reaction went from shock to a proud acceptance. For all of the “kids” in my life – my teens that I claim and love – the ones who seek me out as a safe place for guidance and to chat and to feel affirmed and sometimes set straight – most don’t claim me back on such official terms. He chose me to mentor him and I was honored.

But pride soon fell, appropriately, to humility. Knowing I mentor, unofficially, nearly a dozen teens, is one thing. To be seen from their perspective as an official mentor comes with great responsibility. They are looking for direction and anticipating I am going to steer them the right way. They are looking for a listening ear and are hoping I pay attention what is and isn’t being said. They are looking for affirmation and desiring I’ll care enough to talk, to share, to hug. They are looking for authenticity and are praying I care enough to kick them in the face when they need it and admit where my own edges might also be frayed. They are looking for love and for purpose, for relationship and friendship...and the unspoken need is for me to point them to Jesus.

Can I do all of that? Am I called? Am I equipped?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Either way, I’ve been chosen.

May I continually seek towards the Father so I may say as unashamedly and uninhibited as the Apostle Paul “follow me as I follow Christ”...