Things College Didn’t Teach Me About Being a Youth Pastor


    I had finally made it! I graduated from college, started grad school, got married, and even fit in a church internship before my life officially “began” as a youth pastor. Interviews were a breeze. And as I saw it, I had checked every box needed to enter ministry: School—check. Wife—check. Experience—well, kind of—check. I had even gone above and beyond by starting a family. I was finally living out what I had spent so many years preparing for in school. At least, that’s what I thought. Because not long after I started, I realized there were many things college didn’t teach me about being a youth pastor.

    In many ways, college is designed to expedite learning. It condenses a field of study—one that can take years to master—into a 4-5 year plan. But I know it’s more than just that. You learn how to study, research, and think critically. However, for the most part, you spend hours upon hours reading about what others have experienced, rather than gaining hands-on, real-world experience. And that’s exactly where I found myself—full of book knowledge but lacking street smarts. In this post, I want to share my struggles as a fresh youth pastor and offer some practical advice on how to overcome them.

Swallow Your Pride and Ask for Help

    The apostle Paul understood this message well. He writes to churches, sharing his academic pedigree—not out of pride, but to demonstrate his serious education. But he wasn’t always like that. Paul referred to his earlier life as being a "Pharisee of Pharisees" and was known for persecuting Christians with great zeal. But what changed the “favored” Saul of Tarsus into the “small” apostle Paul? He was literally blinded by Jesus. In a divine encounter on the road to Damascus, Saul was humbled by Jesus and went on to serve Him faithfully.

    I wonder if Paul was reflecting on his past when he wrote to the Corinthians, “Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up.” His true ministry didn’t start until he admitted that he didn’t have all the answers—and neither will ours.

My First Hurdle: Pride

    My first hurdle was the same as Paul’s. And it took my own “road to Damascus” moment to help me realize it. I spent the first two years of my tenure as youth pastor trying to do what I thought I needed to do. I planned a lot of activities because I thought that’s what youth pastors do. I taught apologetics and doctrine because I liked that. And I even tried writing my own curriculum—though that last part didn’t go so well.

    I worked harder and harder, but my youth group got smaller and smaller. I’d try to plan better activities, which got attention but didn’t build commitment. I lowered the level of my messages, which helped the middle schoolers but pushed the high schoolers out. But worst of all, in my own pride, I hurt feelings. Frustrated with the teens and volunteers, I became more legalistic than realistic. Rather than show grace and mercy, I pointed to the letter of the law. I became a hindrance to God’s ministry, and my pride in my knowledge was to blame.

What Bit of Knowledge Could Have Helped Me?

    Simply put, I don’t need to know everything. And you don’t either. God expected this. He gave you senses to take in information, a mind to process it, and His Word so you can know truth. And the truth is—you won’t always have the answer. But chances are, you’re close to someone who does. And that’s no coincidence.

    Built into my job were two encyclopedias of practical ministry experience: my pastor and the associate pastor. Both had experience as youth pastors. Both had been in ministry longer than I’ve been alive. How many pitfalls could I have avoided if I had just asked, “What do you think of this?” or “How would you handle this?”

    But no—I had to “be the man” and “prove myself.” How foolish! I can’t even tell you who I thought I was trying to impress. I was a young guy barely starting out, surrounded by people who had dedicated their whole lives to ministry. But that’s what pride does—it distorts your vision and warps your reality. Unrealistic expectations twist into achievable goals that you feel obligated to meet. All I really needed was a reality check from a mentor grounded in truth. I needed to be humbled.

Humility Is Where Growth Begins

    Paul was humbled by the appearance of Jesus on the road to Damascus. I can’t say I saw the Lord, but I can say I saw Jesus modeled by a person. In the midst of trying to rebound from burnout, I sat down across from a man who had every authority to say, “I think it’s best that you part ways with our ministry.” But instead of letting me go outright, he told me the truth. He pointed out my failures, told me I hadn’t been set up for success, and made it clear I’d need to turn things around fast.

    That moment stuck with me. He didn’t have to say those things. He didn’t have to mentor me after the fact. But God used his humility to show me what I lacked. He was someone; I was no one. But he set aside his authority to help me become the pastor God wanted me to be.

    In ministry, no one has all the answers. God didn’t call you because of what you know—He called you to serve. And He’s given you the tools and resources to do so. Sometimes, it just takes a moment to look around and ask for help. If you’re feeling like you’re drowning in ministry, it’s time to stop trying to swim the ocean on your own. Cry out for help and reach out to the people God has placed around you. Humility is where your growth begins.

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