The Gift Dallas Willard Gave

How sharing his life shaped the ministries of his “Boys Out There”

In my last bonus post, “The Boys in the Field,” I mentioned the list Dallas Willard taped to the wall by his desk. It was simple: “Our boys who are out there”.

But how did those names get on that list? It wasn’t because of their intellectual prowess or personal CV”s. It was because Dallas let them into his life.

John Ortberg tells the story best. In Soul Keeping, he recounts his first drive out to Box Canyon to meet Dallas. John was a young pastor with a Ph.D., and by his own admission, he went there wanting to impress. He couldn’t turn off the switch in his brain that needed to be smart and successful.

When he entered the Willard’s home he probably expected a pristine academic office. Instead, he found a humble, hodgepodge house filled with books and old furniture.

Dallas invited him in and offered him a glass of iced tea. They sat down, and John began firing off the questions he felt were important. He asked how people change and why it is so hard. He asked why his church members believed the right things but didn’t look different. He admits he was trying hard to impress Dallas with his intellect. Dallas listened, but then he simply asked John about his family and his work.

Then, the phone rang.

Remember, this was before cell phones or voicemail. If you didn’t answer, you missed the call.

John writes:

“He didn’t even look as if he wanted to answer it. He just went on talking with me as if there were no phone ringing, as if he actually wanted to talk with me more than to answer the telephone, even though it might be someone important”.

In that moment, John realized he wasn’t there to get information. He was experiencing a different kind of life. A life worth following. He realized that Dallas’s body was totally unhurried. As John sat there, he felt his own heart rate slowing down to match Dallas’s. In that moment, he realized there was something about who Dallas was that was worth repeating, not just what Dallas thought.

An Invitation, Not a Syllabus

We usually treat pastoral mentorship as content delivery. Read this book. Learn this doctrine. Try this strategy.

But the Box Canyon story argues for something else. Mentorship is an invitation into a life.

The Apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthians, “Follow my example, as I follow the example of Christ” (1 Cor 11:1).

I used to be discouraged by that vers. I read it as a statement of arrival, as if Paul were saying, “I have figured this out; do exactly what I do, and you will be perfect too.” I wondered how I could ever say the same thing. I now see it differently.

It isn’t a command to copy perfection. It is an invitation to watch a real person bring the gospel to bear on real life.

Breakfast for Seven Years

I learned this firsthand at Southwestern Seminary with a professor named Dr. Tommy Kiker.

Unlike John, I didn’t go to Dr. Kiker trying to impress him with my intellect. I went terrified that I was wasting his time. I asked him to mentor me, but deep down I felt small, insignificant, and convinced I was asking for too much. I figured I was just more work for him, another student adding a need to his already long to-do list. When I finally asked, he invited me into his office, and then shortly after, he invited me into his life.

For seven years, Dr. Kiker met me for breakfast. He woke up early, came to the seminary, and shared his life with me.

We talked about theology, sure. But mostly, I had a front row seat to watch him live. He welcomed me into his home. He didn’t hide the messy parts of ministry or life. He shared the ups and downs of parenting. He walked me through the brutal realities of pastoral calling and church transitions. He prayed, really prayed, for the concerns in my life and followed up what me on them.

I saw him not just as a “professor,” but as a father, a husband, a pastor, and a friend.

He let me see his weaknesses. He let me see how he processed pain and how he made decisions when the answers weren’t in a textbook. He didn’t just teach me how to be a pastor; he showed me how to be a disciple of Jesus who happens to be a pastor.

Where Do You Start?

If you want to be a mentoring pastor, if you want to be the kind of person who has “boys out there”, where do you begin?

It starts with two invitations. One is easy. The other much harder because it requires vulnerability.

The First Invitation: A Conversation This is the easy part. You invite someone to the table. You buy the coffee or the lunch. You ask questions and you listen. You offer the gift of attention. This is where the relationship begins, but this alone isn’t where mentorship happens.

The Second Invitation: Your Life This is the harder one. This is the invitation to let them see behind the curtain. This is where the vulnerability kicks in.

It is inviting them to see your real life. Not just the polished Sunday morning version of you, but the Tuesday afternoon version when the budget is tight and you’re tired. It means letting them see how you speak to your wife, how you handle a church conflict, and how you sit in silence when you don’t know what to do next (or how you process what you said when you should have stayed quiet).

If we only show our mentees our successes, we teach them to be performers. But if we let them see how we process failure, how we apologize, and how we bring the gospel into our actual decision-making, we teach them how to be disciples.

The Gift of a Life

Dallas famously told John Ortberg, “The main thing you will give your congregation—just like the main thing you will give to God—is the person you become”.

That is also the main thing you give the people you mentor.

The “boys out there” didn’t just learn theology from Dallas. They learned what it looked like to live in a time zone where hurry had been ruthlessly eliminated. I didn’t just learn pastoral theology from Tommy Kiker; I learned what faithfulness looks like over pancakes and diet soda for seven years.

Pastoral mentoring is more than a curriculum. It is access.

For Reflection

• Who is watching your life? Is there a younger believer or pastor you are keeping at arm’s length because you feel the need to present a polished image?

• Are you accessible? Dallas let the phone ring because the person in front of him mattered most. Dr. Kiker gave me seven years of breakfasts. What signal does your schedule send to those who need your mentorship?

• What is your “Box Canyon”? What are the unpolished, real areas of your life that you need to invite a mentee into, so they can see how the gospel applies to actual struggles?