In my forthcoming book, Gospel-Centered Mentoring, I encourage readers to prepare themselves for mentoring by becoming gospel-centered models. I write:
As we fill up with the gospel for ourselves through regular time with God’s Word privately, with a few brothers or sisters, and with the whole church, the gospel always overflows. Of course, this does not imply that you will become a perfect model to your mentee like Christ is—not even close. You don’t need to be a Christian superhero, but as you are filled up with the gospel, it spills over into your life, even amid sin, failure, sorrow, and oppression. You naturally overflow with the gospel to comfort and empower your mentees. And, as you overflow with the gospel, you will also naturally model for your mentees what it looks like to rest in Christ and reflect him in the different realms of life.
To me, one of the biggest challenges of modeling faith for others is understanding what exactly we are modeling. For example, one of my biggest struggles as a young husband and father was facilitating couple and family devotions in my home. One lofty hurdle that prevented me from starting and, later, continuing this important, daily habit was the idea of modeling. I thought, “When I am reading Scripture, asking questions, and praying, my wife and kids know experientially how I have fallen short of God’s standards. They see my sin and foibles more clearly than anyone. They must be thinking, ‘What a hypocrite! He doesn’t even do the things God commands, and yet he has the gall to challenge us!’”
As I reflected on this today in preparation for a mentor session, three passages from the Apostle Paul came to mind:
1 Timothy 1:15 (NIV) Here is a trustworthy saying that deserves full acceptance: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners—of whom I am the worst.
1 Corinthians 4:16 (NIV) Therefore I urge you to imitate me.
Philippians 4:9 (NIV) Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you.
Side-by-side, these passages seem contradictory. How can Paul tell his readers in one letter that he is the worst of sinners and yet tell them in two other letters to imitate him? The more I think about it, the simpler it seems, and I don’t know why I often miss this. The key is to stop trying to model perfection and to start modeling grace.
Your spouse and your children don’t need to hear you read God’s law and think, “Wow! My Honey/Dad really nails that every time. I wish I could be more like him.” Or, “I will never be able to live up to his standards” (meaning your standards, primarily). They need to hear it and think, “Wow! He fails just like me, and he’s not afraid to admit it.” They don’t need to hear you read God’s gospel and say, “This is a message for you” as if you stand beside the cross with Jesus and beckon them forward. They need you to say, “This is a message for us. Your husband/dad needs this grace, too,” as if you kneel beside them at the foot of the cross, another redeemed and beloved child of God. They don’t need you to pray for them and hear, essentially, “You’d better get your act together tomorrow.” They need to hear you say, “May your grace, Father, help us to accomplish your will together, and please pick us up when we fall.”
Modeling perfection is exhausting, and it can be embarrassing if you suspect that your family knows what a wretched person you are by nature. But modeling grace is freeing. You are not the standard; God is. And you are a full recipient of his mercy just as your beloved family members are.
In the case of mentoring, you kneel together beside your mentees at the foot of the cross with the wonderful privilege every session to say, “Don’t we have a great Savior?” Release yourself from modeling perfection and reintroduce them to their merciful Father.
So, here’s a question for you, my readers: What do you think modeling grace looks like? Can you share some examples, stories, and practical tips? Feel free to leave your thoughts in the comment section.