If hindsight is 20/20, what piece of advice would you give your past self?
I used to hope that my ministry experiences would help me feel more mature. In reality, every year I grow more aware of my immaturity. Perhaps both create “growth,” but I’ve definitely felt the pain of embarrassment more than the joy of getting it right.
As Socrates put it: “The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing.” (And, yes, the only reason I know that quote is because of Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure).
Well, as a public service (and because my personal list of ugly mistakes may shed light on your own), here’s my list of misguided priorities over the years…
1. Giving in to a “bored-by-this” attitude in church meetings that didn’t directly talk about youth ministry.
It was my first full-time youth ministry job. I had an office, a title, and a youth building… and an inflated desire for everyone to recognize me as a youth ministry expert, even though I was a recent college grad (the two were “synonymous,” in my mind). I sat in staff meetings with my senior pastor and our children’s director waiting to talk about “my” ideas, “my” wins, and “my” ministry… despite the fact that none of it was ever mine. It was all influenced and fueled by Jesus, whose transforming presence was the magnet that was drawing kids to our ministry. Maybe I never yawned when the children’s director spoke, but I couldn’t wait for her to finish so that I could talk.
And then one day I heard a lot of noise and jumping above my precious office. It was our summer VBS program and they were singing right over where I was working. In frustration, I went upstairs to study it all… and I noticed that several VBS helpers were teenagers from our youth ministry. There were also older kids who were heading into our program that fall. It finally clicked that I was a part of something larger than my job description, and it was up to me to grow into that reality.
2. Telling myself (and a few others) that I was a better preacher when I filled in for my senior pastor.
It doesn’t matter who you are—people get used to hearing a speaker’s voice and style. I didn’t initially realize the impact of this when I began stepping in for senior pastors I served under over the years. I adored hearing people say: “You’re really good. Your illustrations and points feel more relevant than what we usually hear. You should speak more.”
Ever had your ego stroked like that? Either you feed the compliment with pride or you redirect it with humility. It took me a while to own how whatever I’m “good” at is because Jesus has had the freedom to work in me and through me. I wish I could say I acknowledged this sooner rather than later, but I often let this thought gain traction in me: “Maybe I’m just better.”
And then I became a senior pastor, and realized how hard it is to produce a quality message every week that didn’t sound like the previous one. Guest speakers would say things that I’d been saying for years, but people responded differently to it because they were hearing a fresh voice and presented it differently. It made me want to take my younger punk self aside and say: “How about instead of thinking about that last compliment you pray for your senior pastor and ask how you can serve him?”
3. Not recognizing how my teaching is ultimately, inextricably tied to my own spiritual journey.
If you teach in ministry (and who doesn’t?), you need to know what and why you’re focusing on certain themes. If you bring unresolved spiritual wrestling matches into your teaching, even unintentionally, you’ll make those themes your default priorities. If you look back over the past few years and find yourself speaking on the same topics, over and over, it may mean that your growth has become stagnant. You can’t confidently help others push into new territory if you aren’t doing that yourself.
4. Venting about certain teenagers and families before I’ve talked to Jesus about them.
It’s good to have a weekly planning time where you can debrief what’s happening in your ministry with others. But when we sum up our experiences by summing up people, we forget that youth are growing, parents are human, and leaders are imperfect. The secret sauce that gives any ministry a compelling flavor is, simply, spending time in conversation with Jesus about the people we serve before we share or vent about them with others. That may simplistic when you’re frustrated, but that’s because it’s simple. Maybe it’s time to slam on the brakes before you start speaking about that one family or teenager with dramatic fatigue or sarcasm… Talk with Jesus first.
5. Putting unfair expectations on my wife.
When my wife and I were first married, she was involved in ministry with me as a 50/50 partner. As her career developed, she scaled back and became an outstanding volunteer. Then she scaled back further as we transitioned to a new church, filling in only when we needed her, and hosting a small group in our home. When we starting having kids she had to pause altogether, and I eagerly awaited for her to get plugged in, you know, “like before.”
But that never happened. It created some angst in me because I subtly devalued her new mission field at home—taking care of kids, household chores, making meals—as “not enough.” Sure, I honored her for it—but I always wanted just one more thing from her. It took me some time to recognize that the greater goal for me isn’t to get her to join my “thing,” but for her to discover what her “thing” might be in the shifting seasons of her life. And then for me to support her in her “thing,” whatever it was.
This is my own personal ugly list…
If hindsight is 20/20, what piece of advice would you give your past self?