Mentoring through Our Failures

Published by Paul Matsushima on May 23, 2023
Category: Newsletters | Tags: Vocation (6)

My mentor knew that the type of guide, role model, and teacher I needed at that moment wasn’t one who drove me harder or dispensed advice. I needed a mentor who would share his failures more than his successes, his vulnerabilities over his expertise.

This article was originally written for the Faith.Work.Leadership newsletter of Fuller’s Max De Pree Center for Leadership.

I worked with Tod during a seminary internship. Tod was one of my first mentors and a chaplain at a rescue mission for the unhoused in Los Angeles’ Skid Row. Tod worked with residents who were fresh off the streets and had just entered the mission’s long-term residency and rehabilitation program. I shadowed Tod as he made the rounds on his floor to ensure the residents were doing their daily chores, while he facilitated 12-step-esque sessions, and when he met individually with his residents.

Throughout this flurry of activity, Tod always made it a priority to check in with me. Beyond talking about my internship responsibilities, Tod would intentionally ask about my observations and learnings and how they might be impacting my own sense of calling and leadership. And whenever I would ask questions or seek his input, his advice was always the same: “Stop and smell the roses.” Then he would tell a story about when he was a colossal failure and what he learned from it.

Tod would intentionally ask about my observations and learnings and how they might be impacting my own sense of calling and leadership.

“Stop and smell the roses” and his stories of failure didn’t make sense to me until after I finished that internship. While I never explicitly stated my feelings, Tod was able to intuit how stressed I was. He could tell that I was overwhelmed by school, internships, and life in general—that I wasn’t in a good spot. Tod knew that the type of guide, role model, and teacher I needed at that moment wasn’t one who drove me harder or dispensed advice. I needed a mentor who would share his failures more than his successes, his vulnerabilities over his expertise. His reminder to “stop and smell the roses” was an invitation to rest and focus on the things that matter. That was just what I needed then, and I will be forever grateful.

Tod knew that the type of guide, role model, and teacher I needed at that moment wasn’t one who drove me harder or dispensed advice. I needed a mentor who would share his failures more than his successes, his vulnerabilities over his expertise.