The first time I met Cleon White I wondered how effective he could be as a teacher. He had a yellow pencil stuck behind his right ear, a pocket guard full of pens, glasses that couldn’t be classified as retro because they were original, a non-descript shirt and tie, brown slacks, and he punctuated his fashion statement with sneakers. He looked like your basic nerd.

I, on the other hand, was the new youth pastor in town; I played the guitar, drove a vintage VW bus, and had the ever popular mullet hair cut. But after about five months of observing his success and my failure, I began to take notice of this cool man.

I began to appreciate how effective, and popular, this humble, unassuming gentleman was the night before graduation as we sat in a half-circle with the senior class on the floor of the Commons at Andrews Academy. Richard Orrison, the principal, sat on the bench under the words, “To recreate in man the image of his Maker is the object of education.” After a few songs, and some well-chosen words of inspiration, Richard invited members of the class to share anything from their experience at Andrews Academy during their past four years.

The seniors had a lot of good things to say, and we laughed as they shared some rather humorous experiences. I was surprised to hear student after student refer to Cleon and how he had helped them, encouraged them, challenged them, and even made them laugh. He blushed with embarrassment as they singled him out.

The rest of the faculty, myself included, secretly wished someone would mention our name. Then it was Cleon’s turn, and he redirected our attention to this incredible class and the grace and mercy of God.

I walked away from that experience amazed and with a great sense of admiration for this incredibly popular yet humble “nerd” of a man.

The next school year I studied his interaction with the students. He knew all 320 of them and greeted each student by name. Cleon often laughed with them, either at himself or some clever joke they’d shared. From time to time, he came up with one of his own, which he could hardly get through without chuckling before the punch line.

Cleon asked thought-provoking questions that challenged the students—and not just about math, but about life and God. He taught a full load, yet at every free period and after school he was available to tutor and give assistance to those who struggled. Cleon took it on as a personal challenge to ensure their success.

He took the role of student advocate when they were in trouble. And Cleon's advocacy was always directed at the most effective and meaningful discipline designed to teach and redeem, rather than discourage. They felt loved while they faced their consequences, and they didn’t get off easy.

For years, Cleon was the Student Association sponsor, and I watched with amazement as he developed leadership. His style was unique. Cleon clearly outlined their responsibility, then he stepped aside to let them work it out. He listened patiently when their discussions went in a wrong direction. Finally, he would speak and say, “Your plans are very interesting. Have you thought about what you might do if...?” and then he described a potential scenario that certainly was not their desired outcome. Then he’d leave them to correct the situation and continue with “their plan.” It was pure genius!

One of my responsibilities as youth pastor was to supervise and instruct eight to ten seminary students in youth ministry. Each year, the new crop was excited about what they might get to do for the youth. They had dreams of being on stage, singing and playing their guitars, wowing the teens with their captivating sermons, and of course, showing their manhood on the basketball court.

When I arrived at my new assignment, one of the first pieces of advice offered to me by a student was, “Pastor Gary, whatever you do, don’t bring any seminary students over here to help us.”

I was taken aback. “What do you mean? Don’t you like having them come and plan fun things for you?”

“No,” the student replied. “They just come over here to show off. They think they’re so cool. And they have bad sportsmanship on the basketball court. Last year there was a big fight.”

So, I shared what the student had told me with my class of seminarians. I told them I would not be asking them to preach or be up front. I would ask them to mingle with the students, get acquainted with them, learn their names, find out what’s going on in their lives, pray for them, and encourage them whenever they could. I even told them that they could treat a group to ice cream during the week, keep the receipt, and I would reimburse them. It was like pulling teeth.

The next week I asked for a report of their ministry. Not one could give me a name of a young person they had gotten acquainted with. Since they were not on stage, they just showed up, put their time in, and left.

So the next week I told them about the most effective youth pastor I knew—Cleon. They didn’t believe me. They had seen him at Sabbath school. He was always there opening the doors of the academy, turning on lights, smiling, and greeting the youth, but they were not impressed. During the six school years that I worked with the seminarians, a few of them got it. I’ve followed their ministries, and they are still effective today.

We left the community of Berrien Springs to go to work in North Dakota. We were happy to learn that Cleon had roots there, and he occasionally came for a visit. We talked of our time working together for some incredible young people who are now successful with careers and families of their own. As I had the opportunity to encourage teachers and other youth pastors, I told them about Cleon, the most effective youth pastor I had ever met, and I shared the secrets to his success.

In February 2003, I came back to Berrien Springs as communication director for the Lake Union. At the end of the school year, my family moved back with me, and I was happy that my son, Tyler, would be a sophomore at Andrews Academy. He had a wonderful experience there, and connected with a number of the faculty. Tyler's senior year he was a Student Association officer, and Cleon was still the sponsor. I was glad Tyler was able to learn from the one who had taught me so much.

The end of school came none too soon for the seniors, and once again they closed the Sabbath before graduation in the Commons sitting half-circle on the floor. And once again, given the opportunity to share, the students had many good things to say about their academy experience, including some humorous stories, and yes, about the incredible Cleon. He still has that yellow pencil stuck behind his right ear, but the pocket guard on his non-descript shirt is covered up by his brown suit (he's the vice principal now), and his fashion statement is still punctuated by his ubiquitous sneakers.

As a tribute to their love and affection for this incredibly popular yet humble “nerd” of a man, the class of 2006 asked Cleon to have their commencement address. He strode down the aisle in the required regalia as he had done dozens of times before with that ever-engaging smile. And when it came time for the commencement address, he was true to form.

Amazed that the students desired him to speak, and honored by their request, he shared a few humble remarks. Then, before proceeding, he turned to pick up a brown bag and placed it on the pulpit. He had their attention and their curiosity. What was in it? they wondered, as he continued to describe the treasure in the brown paper bag and how the contents were valuable to him and were necessary for his talk. One by one, I watched faces break into knowing smiles as they figured out what was in the brown paper bag. Knowing the students now knew the contents and the rest of us didn’t have a clue, he reached in to pull out his sneakers.

Cleon continued with the most love-filled, encouraging, and endearing challenge and affirmation of the class of 2006 using his sneakers as his illustration. As he concluded his remarks, the class leapt to their feet to applaud the one who had applauded them so many times. Cleon humbly accepted their affection, then sat down and put on his sneakers. Now comfortably attired, despite his regalia, Cleon was ready to assist in handing out their diplomas.

I can’t wait ‘til we get to Heaven, seated half-circle around the throne, to listen as one by one students from Andrews Academy tell how they are there because the life of Jesus was lived out in the life of one incredibly popular yet humble “nerd” of a man who loved them.

Gary Burns is the Lake Union Conference communication director.