How to Match a Mentee’s Energy Instead of Forcing Your Agenda
The bench wobbled every time Marcus shifted his weight. He was sitting outside the gym, one foot tapping so fast the loose board under us made a small knocking sound against the frame.
He had made the starting lineup. Not the end of the bench. Not the maybe-if-someone-gets-tired lineup. He had earned a real spot, and he was trying to tell me without looking like he cared too much.
His words came out in a rush. “Coach said I’m starting Friday. He said I’ve been working. He said I’m probably guarding their best guy.”
I wish I could say I met him there. I wish I had leaned in, asked every question, celebrated the way that moment deserved to be celebrated, and let him feel the full weight of being seen.
But I was distracted. I nodded, asked one flat question, and thought about three other things waiting for me after practice. My body was on the bench, but my attention was somewhere else.
Slowly, Marcus’s voice lost its lift. His foot stopped tapping. The story that had come out full of life ended with a shrug.
“Anyway,” he said. “It’s whatever.”
It was not whatever. I had missed the invitation because I failed to match the moment.
Presence Needs Attention
Mentors talk a lot about showing up, and we should. Consistency matters deeply.
But showing up is not the same as paying attention. A young person can sit across from me every week and still feel unseen if I fail to notice what is happening inside them.
I can be reliable and distracted. I can be present in the room and absent in the relationship.
That is a hard truth for me because I like to believe my consistency covers more than it does. But kids are more perceptive than we think.
They notice when our eyes drift. They notice when our questions sound automatic. They notice when we are trying to get through the conversation instead of entering it with them.
For kids from hard places, this matters even more. Many have learned to read adults carefully because reading adults has helped them survive.
If I bring my own pace into every interaction and expect them to adjust to me, I make them carry the work of connection. That is backwards.
Match Before You Move
One of the most helpful lessons I have learned is to match energy before I try to lead.
I mean noticing the emotional temperature of the moment and adjusting my posture to meet them there. If they are excited, I celebrate with real enthusiasm.
If they are quiet, I slow down. If they are angry, I lower my own intensity and make room before I respond.
If they are nervous, I become steady. The first move is not control. The first move is alignment.
Romans 12:15 gives simple language for this: rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep. That verse requires attention before action.
I cannot rejoice with someone if I am too distracted to notice their joy. I cannot mourn with someone if I am too eager to make the room feel better.
Excitement Is a Door Too
I often think mentors are more prepared for pain than joy. When a kid shares something hard, we know we should slow down.
But when a kid shares excitement, we sometimes treat it as less important. We smile, nod, and move on to the next thing.
That can wound more than we realize. Joy is vulnerable too.
When Marcus told me he made the starting lineup, he was not simply giving me sports news. He was inviting me into his delight.
He needed someone to help him hold the moment. He needed an adult to say, “That is huge. Tell me exactly how it happened.”
Celebration can be a form of discipleship. It teaches a young person that their joys matter, that good gifts should be received with gratitude, and that they do not have to make themselves small when something good happens.
Sadness Needs a Slower Room
A few weeks later, Marcus showed up completely different. His hoodie was pulled tight around his face, and he barely made eye contact.
I asked how he was doing, and he said, “I’m good,” in a voice that clearly meant he was not. The old version of me would have tried to pull him out of it.
I might have cracked a joke, asked too many questions, or moved quickly to advice. That day, I sat beside him and let the quiet be quiet.
For several minutes, nothing happened. Then he said, “School’s been rough.”
That sentence would not have come if I had rushed him. His sadness needed a slower room.
Matching energy means I stop demanding that a kid rise to my mood. It means I am willing to sit lower, quieter, and slower until honesty has a place to land.
Do Not Make Them Manage You
Kids who have lived through instability often become experts at managing adults. They learn which adult is angry, which adult is distracted, which adult needs to be pleased, and which adult cannot handle bad news.
If I am not aware of my own state, I may ask my mentee to manage me without ever saying it. My anxiety fills the room.
My impatience sets the pace. My need to feel helpful becomes pressure on them to respond.
That is too much weight for a young person to carry. Before I walk into a mentoring moment, I need to ask what I am bringing with me.
Am I tired, frustrated, hurried, insecure, or distracted? Naming it helps me lay it down.
Sometimes the most important mentoring preparation happens in the parking lot before I ever open the door. A short prayer, a deep breath, and a quiet reminder that this time is about them can change how I enter.
The First Thirty Seconds Matter
The opening moments of an interaction can tell me a lot. Posture, tone, pace, eye contact, movement, and distance often speak before words do.
If I rush past those cues, I may respond to the wrong thing. I may treat excitement like interruption, sadness like attitude, or nervousness like disinterest.
Now I try to slow the first thirty seconds. I watch before I ask much.
Is the young person more animated than usual? Are they shut down? Are they scanning the room? Are they trying to tell me something through their body before they can say it with words?
That brief pause helps me meet the real moment instead of the one I assumed I was walking into. It helps me respond with care.
Fewer Questions Can Go Deeper
When I feel unsure, I tend to ask too many questions. Question after question can make a young person feel like they are being interviewed, tested, or studied.
I am learning to ask fewer questions and listen better to the answers. One good question with real attention can create more trust than six nervous questions.
When Marcus was excited, the right question would have been, “What did it feel like when coach told you?” Then I should have listened.
When he was discouraged, the right question was not a question at first. It was quiet presence until he had enough space to speak.
Matching energy helps me know whether to ask, celebrate, wait, or simply stay. It keeps me from forcing my plan.
Hold the Plan Loosely
I like plans. Plans help mentoring time feel clear and useful.
But a plan can become a problem if I cling to it after the young person brings something more important into the room. The planned conversation may need to wait because the kid just made the starting lineup.
The activity may need to shift because school was rough. The lesson may need to pause because grief walked in wearing a hoodie.
Holding the plan loosely means the relationship leads the plan, not the other way around. A mentor who can pivot communicates, “You are more important than my agenda.”
Words Fade, Feeling Stays
Most kids will not remember every word we say. They will remember how it felt to be with us.
Did I feel seen? Did I feel rushed? Did my joy matter? Did my sadness scare him?
Did she listen, or was she waiting for her turn to talk? Did he make room for what I was actually carrying?
That should humble every mentor. My presence teaches even when my words are ordinary.
Practices for Matching Their Pace
Slow the beginning
Take a few seconds before jumping into conversation. Notice posture, tone, pace, and energy so you respond to the real moment.
Celebrate with specifics
When a mentee shares good news, enter the joy fully. Ask what happened and how it felt.
Let quiet stay quiet
When a mentee is low, resist the urge to lift the mood too fast. Calm presence may create the safety they need.
Ask fewer questions
Choose one good question and listen closely. Too many questions can turn connection into pressure.
Prepare your own heart
Before you meet, name what you are carrying and ask God for patience. Your state shapes the space.
Marcus Got Another Chance
The Friday after Marcus made the starting lineup, I showed up to his game. He spotted me during warmups and tried not to smile.
Afterward, he walked over sweaty, tired, and talking before he reached me. This time I was ready.
I asked about the first play, the guy he guarded, the moment he felt nervous, and the shot he almost made in the third quarter. His foot started tapping again, but this time the story kept its life.
At one point he said, “You actually watched?” I said, “Of course I watched.”
That question told me more than he knew. He was still checking whether his life mattered enough for someone to pay attention.
Meet Them Where They Are
Mentoring is often less about bringing something impressive into the relationship and more about noticing what is already there. A young person walks in carrying joy, shame, anger, fear, hope, or exhaustion.
My first job is to pay attention. Before I lead, I need to meet.
Before I teach, I need to notice. Before I correct, I need to understand the emotional pace of the moment.
When I match energy with wisdom, I communicate that the young person does not have to cross the whole emotional distance alone. I will come toward them.
That is what Jesus does with us. He enters our grief, receives our joy, meets us in weakness, and speaks truth with perfect love.
I will not do that perfectly. I missed it with Marcus on the bench, but God was kind to give me another chance.
Mentors will miss moments. When we do, we can repair, learn, and return with greater attention.
The next time a young person brings you joy, join it. The next time they bring you sadness, slow down with them.
The next time they walk in carrying something you did not expect, hold your plan loosely and pay attention. The invitation may be sitting right in front of you, foot tapping against an old wooden bench, waiting to see if you will notice.
Discussion Questions
Where have you been leading with your own energy instead of noticing what your mentee is carrying?
How can you slow the first thirty seconds of your next mentoring interaction?
What would it look like to celebrate your mentee’s joy with more attention this week?
