Before his death in 2003, Youth Specialties and YouthWorker Journal founder Mike Yaconelli was a beloved friend and mentor to many. Here are his words of wisdom to youth workers who are overworked and spiritually under-nourished.

The call of youth ministry is unmistakable, relentless, captivating—and dangerous.

In reality, youth ministry is a job; but once ministry becomes a job, the rules all change and “Youth Ministry the Job” conflicts with “Youth Ministry the Call.”

“Youth Ministry the Job” has job descriptions, performance objectives, mission statements, evaluation forms. It’s about growth, success, results and measuring: How many? How much?

“Youth Ministry the Call,” on the other hand, is a mystery—and (trust me) the mystery of youth ministry is very frustrating for church boards and executive pastors.

• Youth Ministry the Job is about wider. Youth Ministry the Call is about deeper.
• The Job is about more. The Call is about one.
• The Job is about program. The Call is about relationship.
• The Job is about being in your office. The Call is about being wherever young people hang out.
• The Job is about young people’s souls. The Call is about your soul.

“When I Was a Child…”
In my first years of youth ministry, my reckless passion for young people, my burning desire to introduce young people to Jesus, and my ego and arrogance had a kind of momentum.

It never occurred to my church, or to me, that something critical was being ignored— my soul.

Not much has changed. As long as young people are showing up and parents are happy, no one—least of all the youth minister—is inclined to ask, “What price is being paid to keep this program moving at such a fast pace?”

The road I’ve traveled for the last 40 years is lined with the burned-out remains of youth workers who discovered too late the need to care for their own souls.

My experience tells me our souls are especially in danger when we’ve experienced the seduction of youth ministry.

Once you’ve experienced how young people respond to you, listen to you and want to be like you—these things make it very difficult to think about your soul. The instant gratification of relationships with young people drowns out the delayed gratification of a relationship with Jesus.

I wish someone had warned me about the hazards of youth ministry. (Of course, maybe they did, but I was going too fast to hear them.)

I feel obliged to share what I’ve learned from my mistakes and warn youth workers of the obstacles ahead. I was too long in youth ministry before I let myself hear Jesus whispering to me, “I don’t want you to do anything right this minute—I just want to be close to you.”

I might have learned this a lot earlier if someone had told me the three things I want to tell you now.

1) You Are Responsible for Your Own Relationship with God.
When I signed on at my first church, I looked forward to spending many hours with my new boss, talking about our faith. I looked forward to being mentored by this godly man I admired.

Talk about disillusionment. I never saw him. We hardly conversed; when we did, it was about some youth activity, an upcoming mission trip or the lock-in the next week. My pastor was distant, preoccupied and seldom talked about his own relationship with Jesus.

Then there were staff meetings. After a string of “regular” jobs during college, I was eager to be among co-workers who talked about Jesus during their meetings.

Talk about disappointment. Each meeting began with prayer; but the remainder was all about the choir, the carpet, the building campaign, Vacation Bible School, the parking lot, the budget and the damage to the fellowship hall after the last lock-in.

Though it may sound harsh, this was the truth: It took me a long time to realize no one cared about my relationship with Jesus. Oh, they cared plenty if my dry soul caused me to run off with the organist; but when it came to routine business and weekly meetings, no one expressed any interest in my relationship with Jesus.

It was clear we were hired to do the work of the church. The work of the soul was to be done after hours, on my own time. Which is actually good news, of course, because we are responsible for our own spiritual nurture and growth. If you want to survive spiritually, then take charge of your own relationship with Christ.

2) You Are More Important than Your Students.
Sounds selfish, I know; but if you spend all your energy on your students’ spiritual lives, you’ll gradually wear down to the point of reading the Bible primarily for ideas for your talks and lessons rather than for your own relationship with God.

If you’re like most youth workers, then your praying will tend to occur only during meetings or church events. Before you know it, you’re living your spiritual life vicariously through others: You’ll hear a sermon or read a good book, and you’ll think only what a good talk or illustration it’ll make.

When a teenager in your group makes a life-changing decision, that moment becomes a prop for your spirituality rather than you relying on your own decisions and your own life-changing moments.

If you want to avoid this terribly easy slide from “Youth Ministry the Call” to “Youth Ministry the Job,” then you’ll have to remember we’re not about fixing people or situations. We’re about being with Jesus.

The best gift you can give young people is not to fix their problems, but to help them recognize the presence of a Jesus who will never leave them nor forsake them, even when their lives plod along unfixed.

When young people observe the unfixed, broken you and your relationship with God, they learn the power of their own relationships with God in the middle of their brokenness. If your youth ministry begins with your relationship with Jesus instead of theirs, then working on your own soul isn’t periphery or extracurricular—it’s central to your ministry.

Your soul is your ministry. Real ministry is not what you do but who you are.

3) The Closer You Get to Jesus, the Less You Know.
When I was 20, I knew everything about Jesus. I swaggered into high schools afraid of no one’s arguments. The Bible was true; Jesus was God; and we all needed Him. I still believe those things, but the swagger became a more appropriate limp.

I know Jesus, but I don’t know much about Him. I love the Bible—it’s even more true to me today than it was 40 years ago—but the truth I see now is much more complicated and mysterious.

Jesus is very real to me, but He’s also very elusive. Sometimes I wonder if I’m following Him or if He’s following me.

Life has left its scars on me. My soul is thick and leathery, faded and torn; it’s been knocked around a lot. I’m not as sure about things as I used to be.

Yet here’s the amazing part, the one absolute I cannot shake: Jesus.

As many times as I have disappointed Him, as often as I have run from Him, He hasn’t given up on me. Every time I turn around, He’s there. Every time I run from Him, He’s there.

I don’t know as much about Jesus as I used to, but I do know one truth for sure: He’s closer.