Yokefellows: Young Men Welcome Here

Friday Stories

It was a special day as my mentor, Elton Trueblood, marked his 85th birthday. He was widely described as the C. S. Lewis of America. He had been in Eisenhower’s administration. He had written 37 books, publishing his last book just three years prior. He had taught at Harvard and Stanford. He had been the eulogist for President Hoover in front of more than 100,000 people. He had officiated at the wedding of one of President John Kennedy’s sisters.

I checked my tie one last time in the mirror of my graduate school car—small, old, 100,000+ miles on the odometer—parked in a dark corner of the convention center parking lot in Richmond, IN. Literary figures, scholars, politicians, and religious leaders were all expected to honor the great man’s life. I clutched the invitation to his birthday event firmly in my hand; there was no way I was getting into that room without that . I was 28 years old; just beginning. But I had an invitation hand-delivered by my mentor as I left his library earlier that week. “I want you to be my guest,” he had said, handing it to me.

It was a memorable evening. Dr. Trueblood had been, for many people in the last half of the 20th century, a leading voice on the validity of Christian thought and practice. Some of his books, The Company of the Committed, The Incendiary Fellowship, A Place to Stand, and my favorite, The Trustworthiness of Religious Experience still ring the bell whenever they are read by people hungry for more than the standard ideas and practices of the North American church. On his 85th birthday, a community touched by Trueblood gathered to offer words of gratitude. President Reagan sent a personal representative along with his greetings and a letter. Billy Graham did the same. Indiana Senator Richard Lugar delivered the keynote address. The president of Earlham College, where Trueblood had devoted the second half of his life, shared remarks. There were also moving testimonials from individuals whose names and titles have since escaped me. I’m sure you can imagine the kind of event I’m describing—an evening with well-known and influential people gathered to honor one of their own. I don’t mean to diminish the significance of the evening; quite the opposite. It was a well-earned tribute to a man whose life had made a profound impact. I was truly honored to be present, to witness the occasion, and to gain a deeper understanding of the man I had trusted to shape my life and future.

However, the evening shifted for me from a gala celebration of a life to a stirring challenge to live differently when Elton Trueblood took the dais and made some comments. Never one to waste minutes, his first words after thanking all for making that night one he would treasure, I still remember: “While I am grateful you came, the one person whose presence means the most to me tonight is a young man sitting right over here” — and he pointed to a table. Spoiler alert: it was neither me nor my table! (Please insert smile!)

He asked a man about a decade older than me to stand, introduced him, and said he had permission to tell his story. In brief form, the story was a sad one: the man had spent most of his adult life in the Indiana State Penitentiary for crimes committed to support a raging drug addiction. Incarcerated, he picked up and read one of Elton Trueblood’s books in the prison library. Then he asked the prison chaplain if there were any more books by the author. The chaplain, a friend of Trueblood’s, got another book. Then another, and another. Eventually, the prisoner told the chaplain he would love to talk someday to the author. “It won’t happen,” he said, “but I would give almost anything to get to talk to him and ask some questions.” You can imagine the surprise of the prisoner when one day Dr. Trueblood paid him a visit at the prison. That first visit led to many more and on Christmas Eve, Trueblook and his wife picked up the prisoner on his release from prison and brought him back to their home for a Christmas celebration because his own family had long ago barred him from their life.

A deep silence set in across the audience. But Trueblood was not finished. He then asked 12 men to stand, introducing each one by name and vocation. There was an accountant, a banker, a real estate expert, a small business coach, a drug counselor, a marriage counselor, an educational counselor, and so on, and here is where the story really got interesting for me. Rather than simply doing a nice thing at Christmas for a released prisoner who had suddenly become homeless, Trueblood had called each man and enlisted them into a great mission: to help this one man, who had genuine automotive mechanical skills, open and run a garage so that he could become a functioning member of society, supporting his family with honest work, and regaining self-respect and trust of his wife and children. While he knew his way around an automotive engine, he had never set up financial accounts, gotten loans, purchased a garage, or grown a business. The likelihood of reoffending and returning to prison is exceptionally high for state prisoners. Alper, Duros and Markman report that recidivism rates of state prisoners average around 68 percent for rearrests within the first three years post-release. While no one could do the hard work of rebuilding a life from the inside out for this former prisoner, Trueblood had decided to give him a fighting chance to change the trajectory of his life if he wanted to accept the opportunity.

It was a story that moved hearts. But, the best part, for me, was still coming. After explaining what this group of community leaders had done, he gave them a name: he called them “Yokefellows.” To explain this unuusal name, Trueblood quoted three verrses thast he called “the heart of the heart of the New Testament:”

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. (RSV)

He then concluded the remarkable story by explaining that the willingness of these twelve men to yoke (align) themselves with a former prisoner and drug addict was rooted in a far deeper commitment—their choice to yoke themselves to Christ. Once they made that choice, this was the logical outcome.

The more I replay that moment in my memory, the more I recognize that it was a powerful invitation that evening to young men like myself to embrace a new vision of manhood. It was as if a poster had been given to me about what it means to be a man, and each story added more detail and context.

By offering men a chance to become a “yokefellow,” Christianity offers men an invitation to rise above the narrow, culturally ingrained views of manhood. The invitation to embrace Christ-like qualities redefine what it means to be truly strong, compassionate, and purposeful. What follows below are five steps that will turn young men—any man—into a yokefellow.

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