In Honour of a Brother and Mentor

This will probably be the longest post I've ever uploaded to this site, but George Mercado has been such a mentor in my life that it's long overdue that I write a bit more about him. It would not be an exaggeration at all -- more like an understatement -- to say that if it weren't for George, I wouldn't be in ministry, period.

"Join with others in following my example, and take note of those who live according to the pattern that we gave you." (Philippians 3:17)

"Even though you have ten thousand guardians (instructors, KJV) in Christ, you do not have many fathers, for in Christ Jesus I became your father through the gospel." (1 Corinthians 4:15)

George Mercado is an imposing American from Puerto Rico by way of New York City, who felt God calling him to lay down a senior pastorate and become a youth pastor at the age of 35.

Providentially, God led him to Burlington Ontario, where George became the youth pastor at my parents' church while I was away at my second year of Bible College. When I returned that summer, I offered to help out with the youth group, and George, after crushing several of my ribs with a bear hug, knighted me as a youth leader.

"I've been praying for workers in the harvest, and here you are! Hey, do you play guitar?"

"Uh, yeah." I replied, attempting to take a deep breath in order to test the structural integrity of my ribcage.

"I love it! You're the worship leader!" George has never been described as a quiet, non-demonstrative type, and when he was excited, the whole neighbourhood knew.

"Uh... I don't sing. I just play." I said in sudden panic, as my worst fear in the world -- singing in front of people -- loomed menacingly in my dark imagination.

"You're all I've got. No problem!" George had been drafted into the U.S. army during Vietnam, and apparently I had just been drafted into singing publicly.

And we were off. A day or so later, we went out for burgers at (appropriately enough) "George's Burgers", and I watched in eager fascination as George wrote out his philosophy of ministry on a napkin, putting into words and strategy the things that had been stirring in my heart. I was hooked. And so began a six year journey of youth ministry and being mentored by George in the way that Jesus mentored the disciples: you worked your butt off alongside George, and learned tons along the way.

Whenever I talk about being mentored by George, people always assume there was some curriculum that he took us through, lots of books to read, and assignments to chart our progress as "mentorees". We did take in a "Sonlife Youth Strategies" basic seminar sometime in the first two years of our involvement with George, but mostly it was the example he set that had the most profound impact on all twelve of the youth leaders (the youth group had grown from 12 to over 100 within three years).

Here are some snapshots:

Wherever possible, George would somehow take a potential "problem/issue" that all of us leaders would be freaking about, and find a way to turn it around into an opportunity for growth, and not just the eye-for-an-eye justice that we younger leaders thought was the obvious answer. "Invitation, not confrontation" is a phrase I've used to describe it. Jesus called it "winning your brother" (Matthew 18:15). You can sometimes control behaviour (on the surface only) through confrontation, but invitation captures you at the heart level -- it's the Spirit's work.

Youth leaders' meetings were always spent in the following format: half the meeting was invested in praying for each other, and the other half was for youth ministry business. As was often the case, at times the whole meeting was spent praying for each other, and the "business" didn't get done, but the leadership team seemed more effective for it.

Prayer in the midst of the youth group itself: George would prostrate himself on the floor whenever we had a group prayer time. "I'm not super-spiritual," he'd say, "I'm very proud and stiff-necked -- this is necessary for me."

A college friend from Winnipeg dropped in one time to visit the group, and heard George announce, as he lit a single candle in the middle of the group, that tonight would be a sharing time about what God was doing.

"What else will we be doing tonight?" my friend whispered as the group formed a big (70+ people) circle around the candle.

"Just watch." I said. Two and a half hours later, George had to end the sharing time because parents were arriving to take their teenagers home. No games, no announcements, no music, no hype. Just two and a half hours of telling our God-stories to each other.

Drop in on George at the office, and many times, you'd open his office door and think he wasn't there, until you saw his feet sticking out from under his desk. Face down in prayer, again.

"You have to face-plant even when you're by yourself?" I'd ask.

"I'm still way too proud." He'd sheepishly admit, from somewhere amid the piles of books, boxes, and stacks of paper that seemed to grow like weeds in his office and on his desk.

George loved it when people were honest about their own struggles and doubts with their Christianity; he encouraged and in some cases, even provoked people to get past the "Sunday School Answer Syndrome" and deal with the real questions. "Either we shake them up now, or university will do it later", he'd say. "At least now, they have us as a support."

Snapshot of a youth leaders meeting, when we had added a team of high schoolers as well, called the "Board of Slaves": Watching a high school senior named Christine break down and weep when people shared answers to prayer over the previous summer. She had been raised in church, but for the first time, at age 17, she realized something that she'd heard all her life was actually true.

"God really does answer prayer!" She said through her tears. It was a holy moment.

George also had an amazing gift for speaking life and encouragement into peoples' lives, helping them discover their gifts and then encouraging them to begin using them. He was also very deliberate about outreach, but not in the way most people are.

"We don't hold a single outreach event until they (the youth) have the vision for it. Otherwise, it's just us doing it for them, and they won't develop a Great Commission mindset."

And after building a discipleship foundation for over two years, when we finally starting doing "outreach events" once a month, George had the whole group evaluate our very first big event afterwards. We were all, youth and leaders alike, bouncing off the walls with excitement at how well the event had gone.

George: "How did the events go? The band? The message?"

Us: "Awesome! It was totally awesome! Everything went great! The whole night was a total success!"

George: "Did anyone bring one of their unbelieving friends?"

Us: "Well, no."

George: "Then was it really an outreach?"

As we continued with our monthly outreaches -- and people began bringing their friends -- George developed a beautifully maddening habit of giving short messages to the gathered group, but refusing to actually share the Gospel directly. "If you want to know more about what I'm talking about, ask the person you came with," he'd say.

It was brilliant; not only were we all forced to participate in the process instead of relying on "the speaker", but the stage was set for our interaction with our friends outside of the outreaches as well. Speaking about our faith in a relaxed, "normal" way became more and more natural.

George was the first person to pray with me over the phone. I'd called him to ask him to pray about something on my behalf, and to my surprise, he immediately started praying. I had assumed that he would hang up and then pray later (that's what I would have done, assuming I didn't forget...).

I sat there in my parent's kitchen, wondering what the proper prayer etiquette was when you were on the phone. Do you bow your head and close your eyes? Folding your hands was out of the question, unless dropping the phone on the floor was acceptable. If you didn't close your eyes, where should you look? What if somebody walked through the kitchen and overheard me saying "yes, Lord" and wondered if I thought I was getting a phone call from the Almighty?

Our youth group's motto (mantra, almost) was "The gospel of Jesus Christ to Burlington, Hamilton, Toronto, Ontario, Canada, the World..." (our version of Jerusalem, Judea, Samaria and the ends of the earth). After six years with George, in 1990, I was the first youth leader (there would be numerous others in the years to follow) to leave the group to become a fulltime youth pastor. George reminded the group, during our tearful last meeting with them, that my first pastorate was part of the fulfillment of our stated vision.

In the summer of 2003, Wendy and I were able to visit George, seeing him for the first time in well over a decade. And, most significantly, we were seeing him for the first time since George's massive stroke in the fall of 2000.

As we pulled into their driveway, we could hear George's booming laugh welcoming us, and the one-armed bear hug he gave me, while not quite as crushing as that day back in the summer of 1984, was still strong and heart-felt. Over the next day and a half, we even managed a beginning towards understanding the gestures and signing that George uses to communicate now.

As we drove back to Canada, the thing that bothered me the most -- aside from the fact that George hasn't been healed after many, many people have prayed for him -- is that he can't speak anymore. There was just so much wisdom and encouragement oozing out of George; to have that voice silenced is difficult to accept.

Posting this seems a pale comparison to actually hearing and experiencing George Mercado, but doing so feels like I'm giving honour to a true mentor, friend, and spiritual father. Despite the length of this writing, it still feels like my words have failed to adeqautely express the impact that George has had on me, and my great love and appreciation for him.