Let me tell you about a person I have not always liked. He is 20 years old, reasonably bright, friendly, and—when he wants—capable of influencing people. His name is Tom.
Until recently his life appeared to be unraveling. His parents, who live 2,000 miles away, are on the verge of divorce, and that’s thrown him for a loop. I don’t think he has the slightest idea of how much his crumbling family has hurt him. But those of us who know Tom are quite aware. We have worried for him.
Recently, Tom received a form letter from his university telling him that if he has one more semester like the last, he will be suspended from school. This I find perplexing because he has a better mind than that.
One of the reasons I have struggled to like Tom is because his character is defective. His work habits are poor, and he moves from job to job. Financially, he lives from day to day. His personal life is undisciplined, disorganized. He’s a people-pleaser and often makes promises he does not keep. Result: people tend to be disappointed in him.
Having been brought up around church people, Tom knows the language and the appropriate behaviors of church people. But there is little about his Christian life that one would find compelling. Tom is not a bold sinner (his “testimony” is not worth a book); he certainly isn’t a bold follower of Christ.
I keep wondering what is going to happen to Tom. I see versions of him every day. Do young people like Tom ever think about the future? Do they understand that choices have consequences? Will they ever settle down to steady relationships, to work that adds value to their generation, to faith that is durable and connected to vital issues?
But then, hey, I’m an old guy. What would you expect from me when I look at a younger generation? The older generation has always wondered about these things.
I want to be quick to say that I really admire the top 10-15 percent of young people I meet today. They are far sharper, more directionalized (a word I’ve made up), more enthusiastic than anyone I ever knew in my generation. But I must be candid: I sometimes worry about the lower 85 percent.
I see Tom in that 85 percent. I’m not always confident that our hustling-bustling churches with all their programs have what it takes to bring persons like Tom around. I could be wrong about this. But the subject needs more thought.
Now, if there’s hope for Tom, who’s about to launch into his third decade of life, it’s going to come from five people who have taken interest in him. Two couples—one very young, the other much older—and a single older man. For reasons I don’t understand, they have decided to like him. I keep wondering what they see that I do not see.
The campus workers
Take the younger couple. Staff-members of a parachurch organization, Verne and Marilyn recently came to the same university that is threatening to kick Tom out. For reasons never explained, they are fond of Tom, and they regularly welcome him into their lives. I suspected they’d dump him as soon as they caught on to his immaturity. But they haven’t.
Verne and Marilyn let Tom hang out with them whenever he was free. That led to—can you believe this?—his dropping by their apartment at lunchtime almost every day. They’re aware by now that his “showing up” is largely due to the fact that he has no job and little money, and the lunch they serve him is his best chance for a decent meal. I said as much to Verne one day, but he blew me off.
Tom seems to enjoy only one topic of conversation: himself. Whenever he is with Verne and Marilyn, he pours out his problems or talks about whatever interests him. He rarely asks them anything about themselves. He almost never says thank you. And it’s clear that it doesn’t occur to him that he often intrudes on their privacy and drains what little money they have.
What impresses me about Verne and Marilyn—mature beyond their years—is their patience with Tom. I certainly wouldn’t have it. For example, they often invite him to various activities where Christian students will be gathering, and he assures them he will be there. But the chances that he’ll show up are, at best, 50-50. Verne and Marilyn never show their disappointment.
If Verne and Marilyn ever have to raise money on the basis of the effectiveness of their ministry, I would advise them not to use Tom as an example. At this moment they have very little to show for their investment of time and affection in him. Still, their concern for him remains steady and enthusiastic.
I wonder sometimes, do they sense that, if Tom ever grows up, he may have something to offer his generation? Do they see him as a leader of some organization? A business person with Christian convictions? A preacher? A writer? I don’t see it myself. But they must see something in him …
I do know that Tom watches how they engage with other students. And he does this with far greater curiosity than they realize. In fact, I don’t think he misses a thing. I’m in a position to know this. Tom’s said things about what he’s seen when I was around.
I know that Tom observes their responses when students come with their problems and their spiritual curiosities. He’s aware of the progress in the lives of other young men and women as they make commitments to Jesus and enter into the process of slow and certain life-change.
In moments when he can get his mind off himself, Tom does occasionally ask Verne or Marilyn questions about their work. Why did you do this? How did you make this happen? What was behind that remark?
I’m impressed by how they take the time to answer. Unless you’ve done what they do, hour after hour, you’ll not realize that this can be exhausting.
Recently I overheard Tom say, “You know, I could see myself leading people into life-change like Verne and Marilyn do.” And “I can see myself offering advice that will make sense to someone else.” Can you believe this one: “I think it would be cool to introduce people to Christ”? Is that the birthing of Leadership I smell?
It was the first time I heard Tom say something that sounded like a serious thought about the future … or something that pointed to the benefit of others.
Tom still bugs me, but I have to admit that being around Verne and Marilyn has made a difference. For once Tom is showing the signs of a dream in life. Marilyn told me that she thinks it’s the hint of God’s call to Christian service. I’m not sure I see it that way, but Marilyn is a more optimistic person than I am. She believes that one of the reasons she and Verne are there is to help Tom hear God’s voice—she mentions Eli and Samuel.
The associate pastor
Another influence in Tom’s life is Keith—single, mid-thirties, an associate pastor of a small church. He’s known Tom for a few years, and he knows symptoms of a drifting life when he sees them. Because his apartment has extra space, he invited Tom to live there for a token rent payment. I think the rent has more to do with creating a sense of responsibility than with Keith’s need to share expenses.
I would have warned Keith against such an investment in Tom. But he didn’t ask my advice. He talks a lot about mentoring the old-fashioned way. I’ve heard him mention Moses and Joshua, Elijah and Elisha, and Mordecai and Esther as models.
When Tom moved in on Keith, it was instantly clear that Tom’s personal living habits were a disaster. The two have conducted candid conversations that range from the importance of putting the lid down on the toilet to putting the food away after eating.
One’s bed, Keith insists, needs to be made—every day. Dishes should be washed—every day. Floors have to be vacuumed—at least every week. This was fresh news to Tom.
But I’m aware that deeper and longer lasting things are also being learned in that apartment. For example, when Tom gets up in the morning, it is not unusual for him to find Keith in the small living room with an open Bible. Or on his knees in prayer.
Keith has no idea how carefully Tom watches him. He is seeing in Keith an order and an effectiveness in living that he lacks. I heard Tom say, “I’d like to be like Keith. Some day I want to organize my life around something convincing and purposeful.”
When someone asked him about Keith, Tom said, “He takes Jesus seriously; drives me nuts sometimes. But I can’t ignore the authenticity of what I see at the apartment. It’s impressive.”
Now Keith may be right. You can’t always teach the “real-time” things Tom is learning if it’s only in a church-based discipleship program. There, on church property, we encounter each other under rather artificial circumstances: programs, meetings, organizational activities. We study the Bible, learn verses, do projects. Good things. But adequate? Can they match the way Jesus mentored the twelve? In the market place, on the roads, amid the suffering?
Tom is seeing faith in the everyday moments. He’s seeing the presence of Jesus in the way a man keeps his home, does his finances, drives his car, and, yes, even respects others by putting down the toilet seat.
Keith says that sometimes, when he and Tom get into serious conversation, they talk of the importance of guidance and the direction that comes when you open your life to greater dependence upon God. They talk about spiritual integrity, the importance of discipline, reverence, and worship. Little by little Tom is admitting to doubts, to temptations, to fears that he’s never put into words before. Character may be growing here.
I know this apartment well (having been there many times). When I visit there I am reminded that encouraging people to grow in their faith is done so much more effectively in a place like this than in an institutional church.
This is somewhat painful for me to say, because I’ve spent a large part of my life building churches and programs. I have few regrets about how I’ve gone about this. Well, maybe one big one: that I didn’t see what Keith sees.
The most effective ministry, when one wants to develop people in faith and in giftedness, is done one-to-one or one-to-very-small-group. Preaching is great; programs are wonderful. But growth in character and competency happens mainly in the places where people live and work.
I can see changes in Tom. He’s not my kind of guy, but I have to admit that between Verne and Marilyn at the university and Keith in that apartment, something is happening.
Dinner is more than eating
I said there were five investors in Tom’s life in his twentieth year. That leads me to Frank and Helen. Frank is a Presbyterian minister. He and his wife, Helen, live just a few houses down from Keith’s apartment.
One Sunday morning, several months ago, Tom impulsively wandered into their church, just a few blocks away. After worship he met Frank, and when they discovered that they were almost-neighbors, Frank gave him an invitation to Sunday lunch. Naturally, Tom accepted. Surprised?
Frank and Helen’s home is not pretentious (although he does drive a Buick). But when you enter their home (I’ve been there, too), there is an immediate sense of peace. The pictures on the wall are mostly of people, and you get the message that people are very important to Frank and Helen.
I don’t want to make Helen into a super-mom, but she presides over a welcoming home and has the gift of hospitality. Helen banters easily; she organizes everybody; she has this way of making everyone feel honored and special. Helen makes a home into a sanctuary. People feel blessed there.
Tom picked up this congeniality the minute he entered Frank and Helen’s home that day.
Frank and Helen have a son and a daughter just a bit older than Tom. When they all sit at the table, “dinner is more than just eating,” Helen says; it is also for talking. And the conversations are spirited: about ideas, not people; about events in the larger world; not just about church programs. Even Christian theology sometimes enters the conversation, and it’s clear that the son and daughter have lots of questions. All are dealt with respectfully— with no judgment.
Tom told me after that first visit that he loved being there. He’d never seen family members treat one another like that. He was delighted to be invited back.
After a few more dinners, Helen said to Tom, “When you come to dinner tomorrow, why don’t you bring your laundry, and we’ll put it in with ours.” Helen had clearly detected a young man whose clothes were in serious disarray (to put it mildly). Her words were more than a suggestion. Tom was incredulous, but he didn’t refuse her.
I was stupefied when I heard this. I mean Helen is a modern woman. She doesn’t have to really do her own family’s laundry if she doesn’t want to. But to take on Tom’s, too? I’ve made a mental note to use this as an illustration the next time I preach on Jesus washing the disciples’ feet.
Today, Tom continues to love these evenings at Frank and Helen’s home. Tom is mesmerized by a man and a woman who treat each other with consummate respect and affection. He is learning how a man can love his wife, and she, in response, can love her husband. He is learning the value of building a home that offers a quiet and restorative sanctuary from a very tough world. I tell you, this is new thing for him.
Tom actually has a dream.
“Someday,” he says, “I want a marriage and family that looks just like Frank and Helen’s. I want to marry a woman like Helen who will flourish in my love. I want to be a man like Frank whom a woman would be glad to respect. I want to be a father who provides a steady and peaceable home for his children.”
Tom hasn’t quite put it into words yet, but I know he is feeling his first stirrings for the larger idea of community: a commitment to a group of people where there is a mutual nourishment of hearts.
Who is the real Tom?
I started out by telling you that I’ve struggled to like Tom. I have sometimes wondered why anyone would like him, why anyone sees possibility in him. But I’m coming to terms with the possibility that Tom is changing far more dramatically than I thought possible.
He is not unlike an enormous number of young men and women today that I meet who are broken. They come from families where there was little to be learned about vital relationships. They come from backgrounds where there was minimal Christian discipleship. And they come from worlds where leadership was in short supply. But Tom is getting me excited about the possibility that there is hope for all these other guys.
Where, I wonder, do people like Tom get the mid-course correction that will turn them into leaders for tomorrow’s church? Answer: in personal connections with those who believe in growing people one by one.
And this is one of the geniuses of the church. It can be a place where life-change occurs as people meet one another amid the stuff of real life and show them Jesus there. That means people-development, leadership-development: in the home, in the marketplace, in places of leisure.
Tom, of course, is not a fictional person. His twentieth-year experiences actually happened forty-four years ago. Tom is me (Thomas Gordon MacDonald). Two of the five people in this story (and there are others that space did not permit me to mention) are with Jesus now. Three continue living full, productive lives.
When I go about doing the things I do each day, I remember each of them with gratitude.
Gordon MacDonald is editor at large of Leadership and chair of World Relief.
Copyright © 2003 by the author or Christianity Today/Leadership Journal. Click here for reprint information onLeadership Journal.
