In my more than fifty years in the ministry, the Lord has brought in and taken away many friends and coworkers. As hard as it always is to lose those I have mentored and developed—both staff and laypeople—I try to affirm their decision to follow God elsewhere. That’s what the church in Ephesus did for Apollos when he sensed God’s leading to leave:

And when he wanted to go across to Achaia, the brethren encouraged him and wrote to the disciples to welcome him; and when he had arrived, he greatly helped those who had believed through grace, for he powerfully refuted the Jews in public, demonstrating by the Scriptures that Jesus was the Christ. (Acts 18:27–28)

Please observe, when he was led to leave, they “encouraged him” to go. We pastors need to realize that God does not intend for all the faithful folks to stay at our church. We want that, but God’s plan is greater than ours. We never need to pour on the guilt or try to manipulate someone who senses the need to follow God elsewhere.

Last week I shared with you one of the marks of a mentor that we all enjoy: affirming others with trust. But there’s another side of the coin that’s just as important. Good mentors also address weaknesses. For example:

We pastors think of ourselves as those who mentor others. For a moment, however, put yourself in the shoes of someone being mentored. If you had a positive mentor somewhere in your past, think back to what that relationship meant to you then.

When a mentor believes in you, trust comes along with it. He trusts you when he is not around. I’ve always appreciated how Paul applied that trust to Priscilla and Aquila:

Ours is a world that demands immediate gratification. From instant downloads to instant mashed potatoes, we want what we want when we want it . . . and that’s usually NOW!

A mentor isn’t like that. He takes the long view toward those he mentors.

What does that look like in everyday terms? A mentor hangs in there. He has staying power.  He isn’t restless.  He doesn’t run.  He isn’t a fair-weathered friend.  He doesn’t give up when there’s criticism. That takes immense maturity in relationships with others. Look how Paul expressed it:

For the next several posts, I want to share with you what I call “the marks of a mentor.” These are the characteristics I have discovered in individuals who leave a positive, lasting impression on the lives of others.

I’ve already introduced you to two of my mentors in my two previous posts. These men, among a number of others, have permanently marked my life by the presence of their lives. Not just their words. Their lives.

The first mark of a mentor? They are caring. They get up-close and personal in the lives of those they influence and guide.

The apostle Paul was like that.

Webster defines a mentor as, “A trusted counselor or guide; a tutor, a coach.”

This describes a mentor I had during a vulnerable time in my life as a young man. I was serving in the Marine Corps, stationed on the island of Okinawa . . . separated from my newlywed wife for about seventeen long months.

Years ago Dan Fogelberg wrote a song about his father called “Leader of the Band.” In the chorus he calls himself a “living legacy” to his dad. I love that phrase. Why? Because it tells of the impact a mentor can have on another life.

When I look at my own life, I see that I am a living legacy to a handful of men who took an interest in me. They saw potential where I did not. They encouraged me to become something more than I was. One of the first of these men saw the most potential in me where I saw the least. His name was Dick Nieme.

When I began high school, I stuttered so badly I could hardly finish a sentence. With that speech impediment came a very low self-esteem. I learned to keep my mouth shut and maintain a low profile. The last place I wanted to be was in front of an audience!

As Jesus prepared to wash His disciples’ feet, He did not say, “Men, I am now going to demonstrate servanthood—watch my humility.” No way. That kind of pride-on-parade was the trademark of the Pharisees.

If you wondered whether they were humble, all you had to do was hang around them awhile. Sooner or later they would announce it . . . which explains why Jesus came down so hard on them (take a quick look at Matthew 23!).

Unlike those pious frauds, the Messiah slipped away from the table without saying a word. He quietly pulled off His outer tunic, and with towel, pitcher, and pan in hand, He moved silently from one man to the next.

Of course, they weren’t sitting as they are portrayed in Leonardo da Vinci’s work The Last Supper. All due respect for that genius, but he missed it when he portrayed the biblical scene through Renaissance eyes.