Group Leader Training
Welcome
1 | Prepare yourself
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Before you start figuring out who to invite, where you’re going to meet, or how many weeks the group should last, I want to encourage you to start thinking about something a little closer to home. Start with yourself.
Leading a group through That’s Not My Name can’t be done well without engaging your own heart and story. This will not be the kind of group where you stand outside the material and help everybody else work through it. One of the dangers of leadership is that it can give us somewhere to hide. We can become the guy asking all the good questions, helping everybody else understand their story, while trying hard to keep our own story out of the room. Or we can begin needing something from the group without realizing it. We need everyone to open up so that we can feel like a good leader. We need a breakthrough to happen. We need people to need us.
So let’s be honest about something from the very beginning: You’re going to be sitting in the room with your own story, your own wounds, your own false names, and your own places where you are still making your way home. So before you begin, it’s worth slowing down and asking yourself a few questions.
Start with why. Why do you want to do this? Why now? What are you hoping might happen in this group? What are you hoping to give, and what are you hoping to receive?
Perhaps you need community too. Maybe something in this book has stirred up parts of your own story and you want some people alongside you as you wrestle with it. Maybe you’re hungry for deeper friendships or tired of conversations that never seem to get beneath the surface. None of that means you shouldn’t lead. Quite the opposite, actually. If you approach this opportunity with awareness of how you are and what you need coming into it, great work can happen for both yourself and those you’ll be leading.
Take some time before the group begins and ask yourself:
Why do I want to lead this group? Why now?
What do I need from this?
What am I hoping to give?
Am I actually ready to engage my own story?
Am I willing to be appropriately open and known?
What am I hopeful for?
What am I afraid of?
What kinds of people, emotions, or stories tend to make me uncomfortable?
What do I tend to do when I get uncomfortable? Do I fix, teach, joke, withdraw, spiritualize, or try to make things feel better?
What do I need outside of this group in order to lead it well?
Don’t rush through those questions. Journal about them. Pray about them. Talk about them with somebody who knows you well.
One last thing: You do not need to have everything worked out in your own life before you lead. You don’t need to be an expert, and you definitely don’t need to (in fact you shouldn’t) present yourself as the person in the room who has already figured all of this out. Show up as you are. As both leader/coordinator and participant.
You’re a pilgrim too.
The more honestly you can begin there, the more freedom you’ll have to lead from within your own humanity instead of trying to perform.
2 | Prepare the Container
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When I use the word container, I’m talking about the space where this group happens. That includes the literal space, the time, the people, and the logistics. But it also includes the culture you’re building together.
As you prepare to lead your group, I want to encourage you to give some careful thought to how you structure your time together. Where you meet, when you meet, who you invite, and what you expect from one another are all important considerations. These might seem like simple logistical decisions, but they have a significant impact on the kind of trust you're hoping to build.
Here are a few things to think through as you prepare:
Location: Where will you meet? This is not the kind of group you want to gather around a table in the middle of Starbucks or Chick-fil-A. Some of the things people may share are deeply personal, and they deserve privacy. Find a place that's comfortable, quiet, private, and free from unnecessary distractions. You want people to have the freedom to cry, pray, sit in silence, or take a few minutes to collect themselves without worrying about the people around them.
Timing: When will you meet? Consider work schedules, family responsibilities, and the time of day when people are most likely to be attentive and emotionally available. You want people to be able to show up and actually be present. Early mornings often work great for men’s schedules, but since guys are just waking up and thinking about the day ahead, it can be hard to do good heart-work. A fire-pit after the kids are in bed might be a better option.
People: Who are you inviting? Think carefully about the men you're bringing together and what each of them might be carrying. Is this group a good fit for them right now? Are there relationships or dynamics you need to consider before inviting someone into the room?
Commitment: How long will each gathering last, and how many weeks will you meet? I think eight to twelve gatherings will work well for most groups, but you'll need to decide what makes sense for your people. Be realistic about what everyone can commit to.
Communication: How will you stay in touch between gatherings? Make sure everyone knows the schedule, how you'll communicate, and who to contact if something comes up.
You'll also want to be clear about what you're asking of the men who join you. Are they expected to read a chapter before each gathering? Should they work through the individual reflection questions ahead of time? What are your expectations around attendance? How will you handle it if someone knows they'll be missing several meetings?
I'd encourage you to talk about these things openly before the group begins. Your group shouldn’t be surprised by what's expected of them, and you don't want to find yourself having to explain these things halfway through your time together.
I hope you understand why I think this matters so much. If I'm going to bring some of the more tender or painful parts of my story into a room full of men, I want to know that the other guys are taking our time together seriously. If half the group is regularly missing, some guys haven't read the chapter, and others are doing all the preparation, it's going to affect the room. People will notice, even if nobody says anything. And over time, that inconsistency can make it harder for men to trust one another enough to be honest.
A little thought and structure on the front end can go a long way toward helping people feel safe enough to bring their real stories into the room.
Your First Gathering
There are a few things I would talk about very clearly the first time you meet.
The first is confidentiality.
I love the linguistic idea that confidentiality means holding faith or holding trust with one another. That’s what you’re asking the group to do. If somebody entrusts you with his story, you do not have the right to take that story somewhere else.
It is okay to go home and tell your spouse that the group was powerful, that you cried, that something stirred in you, or that God met you in some meaningful way. It is not okay to go home and tell her somebody else’s story. The same goes for your pastor, your friend, or anybody else. What belongs to another person stays with that person.
There is one important limit to that commitment. You should never promise secrecy if someone is in immediate danger, someone else may be in danger, abuse is occurring, or you have a legal responsibility to report something. It is better to make that clear at the beginning than to surprise someone with it later.
The second conversation on night one is about honor. The stories that will be told in the group matter. We don’t mock them, minimize them, gossip about them, compare them, or use something that was shared vulnerably against a person later.
The third is agency.
Every person gets to decide what he shares and when he shares it. You may become curious about something and invite him to say more, but he always gets to say, “No, not tonight.” He can pass on a question. He can decide that there is a part of his story he isn’t ready to bring into the world yet.
We want to invite honesty not demand it.
Finally, talk about fixing.
We’re going to have a strong bias in these groups against trying to make each other feel better. That sounds strange because most of us have learned that saying something encouraging or helping fix someone’s issue is the kind thing to do. It seems kind to help someone feel better. And sometimes it is. But sometimes the scripture verse, advice, silver lining, or reassuring statement isn’t really for the hurting person. It’s for us because we can’t stand the tension in the room anymore.
We’re not here to rush people out of their grief. We’re not here to solve one another. We’re learning how to sit in the dirt together.
You’ll probably need to remind the group of that more than once, letting them know that you reserve the right to respectfully interrupt if someone starts fixing.
Every Gathering
I would begin every meeting by checking in with every person in the circle. Keep it very short. Give each person a minute or even just one or two words to say how he’s arriving that day. The goal here is to make sure every person has entered the room and been seen.
Do the same thing before you leave. Ask everyone what’s happening inside of them as the night ends. Again, it can’t become another thirty-minute conversation. You’re just making sure nobody disappears out the door without being noticed.
Those are small practices, but over time they create a sense of containment. Your participants will begin to trust that the group has some walls around it. We are going to show up. We are going to honor one another. We are going to tell the truth. Nobody is going to be forced into something he isn’t ready for, and no one’s anger or grief is going to be bypassed by someone trying to fix it.
That’s the container you’re trying to build.
3 | Navigating the Moments
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The group prompts at the end of each chapter in That’s Not My Name are intentionally simple. That’s because this isn’t supposed to be a fill-in-the-blank small group where you work your way through the questions then call it a night.
The book gives you some structure, but the real content of this group is the lives and stories of the people sitting in it.
The questions are there to help you begin wading into those deeper waters. If conversation needs some help, absolutely use some of the individual reflection questions from the chapter. But don’t become so committed to getting through the questions that you miss what is happening in the people sitting right in front of you.
I use the word navigate intentionally.
I lived in Colorado for a number of years, and I love whitewater rafting. One of the things you learn pretty quickly on a river is that you are not in control. You don’t control the current, the rocks, the rapids, or where the water decides to get wild. You do have a paddle. Somebody is steering. You’re paying attention, making adjustments, and working together to keep everybody in the boat.
That’s a pretty good picture of what you’re doing here.
You can’t control where someone’s story is going to go. You don’t know which question might suddenly invite grief that has been buried for twenty years. You don’t know who is going to get angry, who is going to cry, or who is going to sit there quietly while he’s wrestling with thoughts he’s never let himself think before.
You’re not there to control any of that. You actually can’t. You’re there to navigate it wisely.
And as you do, this is your goal: presence with one another on the journey.
Please remember that. Write it down every night before the group shows up. Pray about it. Tattoo it on your arm (okay not really). But it is that important. Presence on the journey. That’s what you’re building.
Presence on the journey means that we’re saying to one another, in a hundred different ways, “I’ll be with you in your wondering. I’ll be with you in your grief. I’ll be with you in your fear and anger. I’ll be with you as you wrestle with shame. I’ll be with you as you begin to hear something truer about who you are.”
You don’t have to solve the journey. You’re just walking it together.
A helpful way to think about your posture as a leader is through three words: awareness, curiosity, and kindness.
Awareness
Pay attention.
Listen to what people say, but also pay attention to how they say it. Notice when somebody’s voice changes. Notice when he suddenly gets quiet. Notice the laugh that comes in the middle of a painful story. Notice the shaking hand, the clenched jaw, the tears that appear or the way his voice catches but then he swallows his sadness and moves on.
You don’t need to decipher what any of it means. You’re not psychoanalyzing. You’re just becoming attuned enough to the people in the room that you notice what is happening.
Curiosity
Once you notice something, the most courageous thing you can do is become curious.
Ask questions.
“How was that for you?”
“What are you feeling right now?”
“I noticed you got quiet. What’s happening?”
“You just said your story was stupid. I’m curious why you said that.”
“How do you see that story showing up in your life now?”
“What would you want us to understand about what it was like to be you in that moment?”
Curiosity communicates something important: I am not trying to fix you. I don’t need you to be any different than you are right now. I want to know you. Right here in this moment.
Be careful about questions that already contain your conclusion. There is a difference between asking, “What are you feeling?” and saying, “You’re obviously angry at your dad, aren’t you?”
Ask the kinds of questions that allow them to find their own words.
Kindness
Kindness isn’t always making somebody feel better.
Sometimes kindness is crying with somebody. Sometimes it is blessing something good that you see coming alive in him. Sometimes it is sitting in silence because nothing needs to be said yet.
And sometimes kindness is interrupting somebody.
Honesty is kind. Timekeeping is kind. Asking a difficult question can be kind. Stopping someone from fixing another person can be kind.
If somebody shares something painful and another guy immediately says, “It’ll all work out. God’s got you,” you may need to gently interrupt and say, “I know you’re trying to care for him, but I think we’re trying to make this feel better before we’ve really been with him in it.”
If somebody has been talking for ten minutes and there are four other guys who came ready to share too, you may need to say, “Thank you. There’s clearly more here, and I don’t want to rush past it. But I’m going to pause you because I also want to make sure we have room for Rob tonight.”
That might feel uncomfortable. Do it anyway. Timekeeping really is kind.
Let Big Moments Be Big
There may be some big moments in these groups.
Somebody may weep harder than you expected. Someone may get angry. Someone may need to say something out loud that he’s never said before. He may say it with expletives that make some people uncomfortable. Maybe somebody needs to write something down and throw it in the fire. Maybe he needs to go outside and yell. Maybe something physical or symbolic would help him put language and movement around what is happening inside of him.
Please don’t be afraid of those moments. Don’t let your discomfort shut down something beautiful.
Also, please don’t manufacture them.
Not everyone needs to cry. Not everyone needs a dramatic breakthrough. Not everyone needs to burn something or yell something or have the night everybody remembers six months later.
Quiet work is still real work.
If something physical or symbolic does happen, use common sense. Make sure everyone involved has agency, that nobody is being pressured, and that what you’re doing is actually safe.
Follow the flow of the river that’s actually there.
When Someone Becomes Overwhelmed
There may also be moments when somebody seems to become overwhelmed by his own story. He may have trouble staying present, become irritated, seem disoriented, fidget, try to change the subject, or simply reach a place where continuing to dig is clearly not helpful.
Please do not try to push through that.
Slow things down. Help him notice where he is. Remind him to breathe. Offer some water. Take a walk. Ask what he needs right now. Remind him that he has a choice about whether to keep talking.
There are many stories that deserve care beyond what a small group can offer. We’ll talk about that in the next section.
For now, remember what you’re doing: Offering presence on the journey. That’s it. Stay aware. Stay curious. Stay kind. Don’t be afraid of the deep water, but don’t pretend you control the river either.
4 | know your capacity
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There is a very good chance that at some point in this group, someone will bring something that is beyond your ability to care for well.
Expect that.
It doesn’t mean you did something wrong. It doesn’t mean the group failed, and it certainly doesn’t mean you’re a bad leader. We’re doing deep work with human stories, and sometimes opening the door to those stories reveals a wound that needs more attention, more time, or more expertise than this group can provide.
You are not expected to have endless capacity. You’re not expected to have endless wisdom. You don’t need a master’s degree in psychology because you agreed to lead a group through my book.
Part of leading well is knowing where your limits are.
There is a difference between, “This is really painful, and we can sit here with you in it,” and, “This is really painful, and you need care that we cannot provide tonight.”
Learning to recognize that difference matters.
When Someone Needs More Care
Some circumstances call for immediate attention, particularly when someone's safety is at risk.
Here are a few things you should take seriously:
Suicide or self-harm: Someone talks about wanting to end his life, hurting himself, or feeling like he can't keep himself safe.
Threats of violence: Someone expresses an intention to harm another person.
Abuse or unsafe situations: Someone discloses ongoing abuse, domestic violence, or a situation where a child or another vulnerable person may be in danger.
Serious mental health or substance-related crises: Someone appears to be in significant psychological distress, is severely impaired, or is experiencing a crisis that requires professional attention.
In situations like these, your responsibility is to take what you're hearing seriously and help connect that person with appropriate care. If someone is in immediate danger, that may mean contacting emergency services or a local crisis response team. You don't need to be a counselor or have all the answers to recognize when someone's safety needs to take priority.
I also want to be very clear that your role as a group leader is not to investigate. If someone discloses abuse, violence, or another serious concern, you don't need to determine whether every detail is accurate, question the person extensively, or try to get to the bottom of what happened. That's not your responsibility.
Instead, listen carefully, respond with compassion, and take appropriate steps to involve people who are trained and authorized to help. Don't promise secrecy, and don't assume that you need proof before making a required report. Your job is to recognize the concern and respond responsibly, not to conduct an investigation or decide whether someone is telling the truth.
There will also be situations that aren't necessarily emergencies but still require more care than your group can reasonably provide. Maybe a man reveals that he's having an affair his wife doesn't know about. Maybe someone begins sharing a traumatic experience and becomes so overwhelmed that he struggles to remain present. Maybe a man is dealing with an addiction, a difficult marriage, a history of abuse, or a mental health struggle that needs consistent, ongoing attention.
I want you to remember that you don't have to diagnose what's happening or know exactly how to help in order to recognize that someone needs additional support. Sometimes the most caring thing you can do is acknowledge your own limitations.
You might simply say, "I care about you, and I think what you're carrying deserves more care than I know how to give you."
There's nothing shameful about saying that. In fact, I think there's a great deal of wisdom and kindness in recognizing what you can offer someone and where your own capacity ends.
Before your group begins, I'd encourage you to identify a few people or resources you can turn to if the need arises. Here are some things worth preparing:
Have the names and contact information of a few trusted counselors or other mental health professionals who understand this kind of work.
Know which pastors, ministry leaders, or community resources might be able to offer additional support.
Familiarize yourself with available crisis resources and what steps to take if someone is in immediate danger.
If you're leading through a church or organization, make sure you understand its policies and your responsibilities regarding safety, confidentiality, and reporting suspected abuse.
One final thing I want to make clear: confidentiality is important, and I hope you'll work hard to protect the stories entrusted to your group. But confidentiality is not an absolute promise of secrecy. When someone's life is in danger, a child or vulnerable person may be at risk, or the law requires a report, protecting people takes priority. Legal reporting requirements vary depending on your role and location, so make sure you understand the responsibilities that apply to you. Be clear about those limits with your group from the beginning.
My hope is that you'll approach these situations with both tenderness and wisdom. You can care deeply for the men in your group without being responsible for meeting every need they bring into the room. Part of leading well is knowing when to invite others into that care.
When Someone Needs More Time
There is another kind of capacity that is a little less dramatic but probably much more common.
Imagine you’re having an important night and everybody came prepared to share. One man begins telling his story, and something breaks open. He’s weeping. There’s clearly a lot happening, and of course you want to give him as much time as he needs.
That’s a beautiful instinct. It also may not be the kindest thing to do.
If one person’s story consumes every bit of the space, time, and emotional energy in the group, somebody else is going to lose what was promised to him. And if you asked, “Hey guys, is it ok if we stay with Ryan tonight instead of hearing from everyone?” I bet the guys would agree, because that’s the nice thing to do. But please don’t.
This is where that idea comes back again: timekeeping is kind.
You might say, “Ryan, we are with you, and I can feel how big this is. I don’t want you to hear what I’m about to say as us abandoning you, because we’re not. But Matt came tonight with a story too, and I want to honor the space we promised him. Can we pause here for now, turn our attention toward Matt, and then figure out how we’re going to make sure you’re cared for after tonight?”
That isn’t cold. In fact, it may be incredibly kind.
You’re communicating that Ryan matters enough to be seen, but he doesn’t need to take over the whole group in order to prove that his story matters. And you’re communicating to Matt and everybody else that their stories matter too.
The container has limits. So do you.
There may be times when the right next step is a conversation after the group. Sometimes it is a meeting with a pastor. Sometimes it is professional counseling. Sometimes it may involve crisis support or emergency help.
Your job is to have the awareness ahead of time that you and your group will not have the capacity to provide all the care that everyone needs.
Prepare Before You Need It
This is also why I recommend ReStory Counseling’s Sitting in the Dirt training for people who regularly find themselves caring for others. It goes much further into how to listen well, stay present in painful stories, recognize when you’re over your head, and know when someone needs a different kind of care.
The war against false names is messy. Shame is messy. Grief is messy. Human beings are messy.
There’s actually a kind of rest in knowing that.
You don’t have to be everything to everybody. Your task is to show up, pay attention, love people well, tell the truth, and offer presence on the journey.
Thank You.
We are so glad you’ve said “Yes” to leading a group through That’s Not My Name. You are about to embark on a courageous journey!
We’d love to hear from you about your group experience, and be available to answer any questions you may have along the way. To do that, simply send an email jeremy@restorationproject.net.
Would you like to purchase bulk copies of That’s Not My Name? We can get you a discount for orders of 20 or more. Send us an email!