I heard Randall Wallace, author of the screenplays Braveheart and We Were Soldiers, quote a Persian proverb, “When the heart is willing, it will find a thousand ways. When the heart is unwilling, it will find a thousand excuses.”
Recently my mind went back to a conversation with someone I’d known for almost 20 years. We’d both worked with young people for about the same length of time; Rob became a full-time youth worker, and I continued to volunteer. For more than a year I volunteered for him at a church. One day, I went into Rob’s office, and in the course of conversation, gently mentioned that people who didn’t know and like him as I did were getting frustrated because he was so hard to get in touch with during the day. He wasn’t gifted in the phone-call-returning department either, which made it even worse. Rob got defensive. I reasserted my genuine concern, not my judgment. Rob flatly informed me that I didn’t have a voice in his life to concern myself with things that were none of my business. Well, alrighty then; I’ll just be slinking out.
You can’t have it both ways. You’re either in charge, or you’re supporting the one who is. If you’re supporting the one who is, you’re either really supporting them, or you’re stewing because you don’t want to or wish they’d do things differently—dare I say, better. What if you don’t “have a voice” in their lives? In our case, I realized Rob didn’t want me to assume a co-worker role, regardless of our friendship. Right or wrong, it was a valuable lesson about understanding one’s place in relation to the person in charge. When the heart of a volunteer youth ministry worker is willing, it’ll find ways to work well with those in charge. When the heart is unwilling, it’ll find excuses not to—especially when the youth pastor’s decisions, time management or people skills are in question. I’ve decided that advancing God’s work and having healthy working relationships based on mutual respect always will trump being heard and getting my point across.
Uncomfortable situations like the one above have helped develop me into someone who, without trying, ended up being a voice in the lives of several youth pastors—on issues beyond showing up at the office and returning calls. About five years ago (and post-Rob), something changed in my influence of other youth leaders. Though I taught an occasional workshop for leaders, this new dynamic wasn’t an upfront, formal thing. It took the form of e-mails, phone calls and quietly being pulled aside by youth pastors picking my brain about things they knew I might have some knowledge about, not because of any seminary degree or major accomplishment—just by virtue of my years involved.
I’ve worked with every personality and leadership style. I’ve been part of a large youth and young adult ministry with 75 volunteers on board, in another place with 11 total combined students and leaders, and groups with numbers in between. I’ve seen just about every youth ministry paradigm, from the meticulously planned to the make-it-up-as-you-go-along. I’ve struggled with almost every emotion that could fit into my imaginary book Help! I’m a Youth Worker in the Fetal Position!
I don’t presume to relate to the staffer who bears the responsibilities of students, parent relationships, answering to the board and keeping the vans full of gas; but I’ve been the No. 2 or 3 guy (guy being used figuratively, as I’m a woman and have served women leaders, too) to several youth pastors through the years. At some point, I recognized that just being good at what I do wasn’t enough. Real purpose and excitement comes in helping others be good at what they do. Bringing leadership quality out in the No.1 guy means that I’m great at being No.2—which is superior to being a knowledgeable volunteer.
Knowing how vulnerable a less-experienced or poorly-trained youth worker can be—even a personality-drenched one—I’ve committed myself to a set of four core values by which I serve them, not the least of which is just that: to serve them, not just help with the program. By that I don’t mean the caricature secretary who gives her boss a great idea, making him think it’s his own. I mean helping them think and talk through the principles by which they manage youth ministry and the methods they use. When a youth pastor is humble enough to hear the voice of experience, even when it isn’t a paid voice, God allows him to reap the rewards that spill into his entire leadership team, as well as his students.
Those core values toward my youth pastor are:
1. I walk in servanthood in attitude and work, to please God, make life easier for my youth pastor and model servanthood for our team and students.
2. I coach from the sidelines, not molding my youth pastor into my image so I can take credit later for making her what she is. I assume she has at least a small ego; and until God shrinks it further, I’ll “handle with care.” That’s not patronizing; it’s just being real. I consider my job to call out the good things I see and make suggestions when asked. I’ll tell her what she’s doing right before I tell her what she’s doing wrong. When not asked, I’ve learned to bide my time until I’ve earned the right to dole out my pearls of wisdom unrequested.
3. I can be in charge, but I don’t have to be. This means two things: it means honoring the youth director, whether or not I agree with his or her philosophy or leadership style. It also means that just because I can perform certain ministry functions asleep, upside down and in the snow, doesn’t mean I have to or that I should. This is a matter of allowing someone else to look good and to grow in skill and calling. It’s also a matter of healthy boundaries on my part.
4. Respect is the basis of coaching leaders. The idea is to build him up, not make him or her feel like Luke the Moron sitting under Yoda of Youth Ministry Legends. I’ve learned to be sensitive to how a person is wired and ask questions to help him or her draw conclusions independently so I can fill in the blanks. I also choose times and places comfortable for the leader to offer instructional feedback, usually when students and other volunteers aren’t present. My tone lets the person know I realize I may not be telling him something new. (Assumption is one of the seven deadly sins of any communication.) If, after hearing my brilliant, time-tested suggestions, he or she decides to do things differently, I lend my support. (In the long run, most ideas are experiments waiting to become paradigms after the 1,000th attempt anyway; so I don’t feel the need to fight for my way anymore.) I care more about the relationship between leaders with each other and students than the functionality of our immediate program.
I avoid a condescending attitude: “This groundling is lucky to have an old-timer like me to help guide.” Even green leaders can smell a big ego across the sanctuary. I don’t want my youth pastor to feel like he or she has to prove something or compete with me. That’s counterproductive. On the contrary, I recognize, as David did with Saul, that whether I completely mesh with her leadership style or not, whoever’s in charge is just that: in charge with the mantle of God for that time and place. Even if that person didn’t earn or doesn’t seem to honor that mantle, that’s not my responsibility. If I’m wise, I’ll honor it—not as a martyr, but as a servant.
Those values stem from the mindset that youth ministry veteran Jeanne Mayo has drilled into the hearts and heads of youth workers for more than 30 years: a leader is really a servant, and a true servant doesn’t need a title. I’ve never gotten away from that. I never wanted to because of the fruit I saw from Mayo’s ministry—I’m part of that fruit. Sitting under her leadership in the mid-80s, there was a value and standard of servanthood, as well as accountability, intimacy with God and building relationships. She and the youth/young adult staff invested time and practical training in volunteers, and these values were the heart of it all.
Servanthood is a basic model that works, regardless of environment, numbers or personality of the leaders. That’s why I’m passionate about coaching youth workers who give me that privilege. Ideas are a dime a dozen; paradigms cost a little more. When it comes to leading, after 18 years the difference I’ve seen is simply those who understand servanthood and those who don’t. Of course, a strong servanthood core begins with placing a high value in training volunteers.
I’ve heard youth pastors verbalize appreciation for their volunteers. Some do incredible jobs training them. Most often, though, especially in smaller churches, I don’t see the investment I benefited from in the 1980s. When you invest time in your volunteer staff—even a couple of hours once a month consistently—explaining your principles, training in basic ministry and communication skills, and throwing in a free resource and pizza now and then—the quality and loyalty meter tips your way. I heard a guy say, “People want to be led…well.”
What if the person in charge isn’t leading well? What if he knows it? Now there’s a plug for the ever-present inferiority complex that seems to run rampant among youth workers. I had a recent conversation with a youth pastor along these lines. Painfully aware that he’s not wired like what he perceives to be successful, he said, “I don’t have much of a personality. In fact, Danette, it’s way out of my comfort zone just to carry on conversations with others.” I could have patronized him with flattery, “but you’re a nice guy” or told him to make the best of it and pray that students don’t suffer under his drabness. Instead, I asked him key questions to find out if what he really saying was, “I realize I’m not called to youth ministry” or “I love youth, but I don’t think I’m good at it.” There’s a difference.
After talking with this pastor, it was clear he loves students and believes he’s called, like stammering Moses, to shepherd them. So I encouraged him to continue exploring his deficiencies without obsessing over them, allowing the Holy Spirit to develop those weak areas while capitalizing on his strengths. “In the meantime,” I told him, “I see no weakness in allowing others to do the things you’re not yet good at.” Are you a great manager, but hate being up front? Read about and develop communication skills, but don’t torture yourself doing every upfront announcement, game and song service. Are you a disorganized party pig? Determine to learn organization; but for now, let your administratively gifted volunteer or secretary do the paperwork and details for you. That leaves more time to have fun, which is what you do best.
You can be a person great at your No.1 skill and maximize your greatness. You might even pour your greatness into another youth worker so she, too, will be great at your No.1 skill. That’s the way some youth pastors mentor—whatever they’re good at, they reproduce in those who follow them. However, when you help others be great at their No.1 skills, that leads not to entropy in one’s own ministry, but to farther-reaching success for you both.
Helping people be good at what they do is also a matter of having someone (or some tool) point out what they’re good at. Personality, leadership and spiritual gift tests are great for helping people discover their strengths and interests. You can huff along at your frantic pace and fill slots till Jesus comes. How much more effective will your ministry be when everyone’s doing what he’s actually good at—and knows it? That’s empowering for both of you. For both the youth pastors and the volunteers whose hearts are willing to find a thousand ways to servant-lead like this, they’ll reap a thousand rewards.
My advice to the big kahuna (full-time youth pastor):
1. Initiate coaching with your veteran volunteers. E-mail questions, pull them aside or set a standing appointment with them to pick their over-stuffed brains. My ego doesn’t need boosting, and being needed lost its glamour a long time ago. Still, I don’t want to sit on my experience either. The more built up know-how I dole out, the more room there’ll be in my brain to store up new learning. Letting a seasoned youth worker mentor you is just another way to do teamwork—to work smarter, not harder. The added bonus is that, as with any volunteer, when he knows you genuinely want to hear him, he’ll be far more supportive and loyal to you.
2. It takes an humble person to be teachable with someone who isn’t in your paid shoes.There have been leaders I wouldn’t try to coach–not because they didn’t need it, but because their ego was too fragile. It was obvious by the welded chips on their shoulders that they only wanted to be “taught” by someone who either licked their shoes or had twice their experience and had written a couple of books. For my part, I can write this off as their discomfort with my personality or gender and serve them anyway, only more quietly; but let me gently tell you that for your part, regardless of your more experienced volunteer’s quirks and lesser elocution, if he or she has character and integrity, you can gain something from his or her perspective. Is it humbling? No more than a middle-aged youth ministry veteran volunteer submitting to her 20-something-year-old youth pastor. It should be a contiguous thing. Can we give God permission to use each other as a tool of humility in our lives? Once that’s settled, we can get a lot more done in youth ministry.
3. Don’t take your older volunteers for granted. Some come off like know-it-alls; some are position-protective; some are both. They’re still volunteering because they want to be there. I wrote about the two-sided coin of volunteerism in the “Staff Relations” issue of YouthWorker Journal (Jan-Feb 2003). One side is: It’s a privilege to serve. The other side clearly is: No one’s paying me to do this.
4. Let me say “no” without owing you a detailed explanation. It’s not merely being ironic when you give your seasoned volunteers permission to say “no” with a sense of trust and respect from you (especially when it means someone not as sharp does the job). Likewise, when they say “yes,” may there be freedom to try something different with the same level of trust and respect.
