When I was a youth pastor, I went through a process of deep listening and demographic  research with the community where I served through a youth ministry innovation research initiative.¹ I worked with largely well-resourced, high-achieving kids, and these kids and their families had asked if we direct our research at mental health concerns, and more specifically anxiety around performance and failure. 

These kids were haunted by their fear of failure, it lurked behind every decision, every step taken or left undone, every late night spent studying or instance acting out when they just couldn’t handle the pressure. When I talked to their parents about it, they were troubled. They insisted that the pressure wasn’t coming from them, that they of course wouldn’t love their child any less if they didn’t get straight A’s, and that they would never want their children to sacrifice their mental or physical health to make varsity or magna cum laude. 

I remember a mom telling me this in the same conversation she told me she had missed her kids 7:00pm game because she was still at work, and how she was pulling some overtime now to establish a nest egg to start her own business with. She was beautiful, polished, successful, manicured nails clacking out emails on her phone. She was at the top of her field, in great shape, and drove her kids to the best vocal coaches, the best batting instructors, and the best college counselors all across the city. I was in my 20s, not a parent, and certainly not anywhere near this woman’s level of success or achievement, but I found myself nervously trying to articulate a simple, uncomfortable reality: our children learn what we teach them. 

If you give your children only the best, if you act like only the best coaches, schools, tutors, are acceptable, won’t they learn only the best is acceptable from them as well? If your children see you miss their games for work, walk away from family meals to take a phone call, sacrifice all of your time and energy for your job, won’t they assume that they’re supposed to do the same? If you don’t age, don’t gain a pound, don’t show a single blemish, isn’t it logical for them to assume that they can’t either? 

I was at the library with my children the other day, and my son, who is not even two years old, took a book that he liked, walked over to the children’s circulation desk, set it on the counter, and waited patiently for the librarian to come back. I never explained to him how the library works; I hadn’t bothered, seeing as he hasn’t quite mastered sippy cups or that he has to move out of the way of a door that he’s trying to open. 

But he had learned. If he liked a book and wanted to read it more, he put it on the counter and the nice lady scanned it and then he got a sticker and we all went home. It was the first moment I felt the strange weight of how much kids are watching and learning, and not just in the moments when I was trying to teach, but all the time. It also was a reinforcement of all the times I had told moms like that one with the perfect nails that what they told their kids, and I am confident they truly felt, about their worthiness and belovedness outside of their accomplishments, and what their kids learned were very different. ²

We as church leaders can wind up in this same paradox, where what we believe and what we say may be in alignment, but because it doesn’t match with our actions, it’s not what those we lead are learning from us. Obviously no one can be a perfect example of their values at all times, but overall, does how you carry yourself reflect what you believe (and preach) to be true? 

Take a moment and consider your core theological principles, from your denomination, your particular faith community, and your personal beliefs. Maybe write them down in front of you. Now think about the interactions you have during the day – do they reflect those beliefs? Does the way you engage with your teammates actually reflect grace? Does the way you talk about finances actually reflect a belief in God’s provision? Do you recruit and equip volunteers in a way that reflects your effort to imitate Christ, and who he chose? 

People learn what we teach them. When we are frustrated with those we lead for just not getting it, or seemingly not listening to us, I wonder if we can take a moment and consider if there’s ways that we are not teaching them the lessons we want to believe we are. 

So what are the beautiful things you have been able to show your community, what does it seem like they’ve learned? And what new things might we be called to adjust in ourselves and our leadership to show them next? Let us know what has come up in your community, and give us a call on how we might be able to help.

1. Read More here. ↩︎
2. I am very confident that the first time my kids swear over spilled apple juice or spit my own snarky attitude back at me, I will regret this entire post. ↩︎