when they ask

shaping children's faith through story

Month: April 2018

What if some grass said to a tree “You’re not a very good tree because people can’t walk on you”? Many members, one body

April 19, 2018 /

The kids and I have recently been talking about God’s design in making us all so different. It all started one day in the van. Earlier that morning I’d been reading Romans 12:4-8 where Paul taught

For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another. Having gifts that differ according to the grace given to us, let us use them: if prophecy, in proportion to our faith; if service, in our serving; the one who teaches, in his teaching; the one who exhorts, in his exhortation; the one who contributes, in generosity; the one who leads, with zeal; the one who does acts of mercy, with cheerfulness (emphasis mine).

So while driving I was still thinking about all of this and decided to take advantage of my captive audience. “Adam, would you like to hear what I read in my devotions, this morning?” I know the day will come when he no longer wants to talk with me as much as what he does now, so I’m trying to embrace this season. “Yeah! What was it?!” he asked. “Well,” I explained, “Paul was comparing the church to a person’s body. Just like a knee is different than a hand, and a hand is different than a foot, he said that God made all of us differently so that by all working together we could give God’s love to the world. Adam, what if your mouth said to your eye, ‘you’re not a very good eye because you can’t chew up food’?” He had to think about this for a few seconds before bursting into a fit of laughter. As if on cue, he exclaimed, “Eyes aren’t supposed to chew up food! Eyes are for seeing!” And so I asked, “Well, what if your nose said to your ear, ‘you’re not a good ear because you can’t smell this delicious pizza’?” “Ears aren’t for smelling!” he laughed. “God made ears for hearing!” We soon moved to things we saw out the windows. “What if a car said to a house, ‘you’re not a very good house because people can’t drive you to the grocery store’?” one of us asked. At one point in our “game” I asked, “Adam, what if Mommy said to Daddy, ‘You’re not a very good daddy because you can’t nurse babies!'” Of course, he just thought was hilarious while I was experiencing God’s conviction at the number of times I’ve criticized my husband’s  difficulty in soothing a crying child.

Several days later we were driving when Adam asked me out of the blue, “Hey Mom, what if some grass said to a tree ‘You’re not a very good tree, because people can’t walk on you’?” I chortled in delighted encouragement. We’ve played this game on several occasions since. He, of course, loves the silliness of it all. I love that each time we play my kids are internalizing the biblical truth that we are each God’s workmanship, created in Christ Jesus in a very specific way to do good works which God has prepared in advance for us to do (Ephesians 2:10).

This truth has brought me such freedom in the last year. On the day of my grandfather’s funeral, I felt that I was coming up very short next to my older sister. She was playing with a group of kids (mine included) while I bemoaned the fact that I could never be so energetic, silly, and fun. But then I thought about all of Adam’s recent questions about death. I think most would have struggled with impatience, whereas I had easily welcomed them. We’ve always laughed that one of my sister’s early memories was how I drove her crazy by asking “why?” In that moment, I understood that we all have the capacity for giving our children incredible gifts, but that these gifts differ between families. My sister’s kids (as well as my own) have benefited from all of her energy, optimism, and playfulness, whereas I can give mine (and hopefully hers!) the space to think, reflect, ask questions, search out answers, and share what’s on their hearts.

However, we are only able to offer these gifts by choosing to exercise them. My pastor once challenged me to spend more time operating in my strengths than trying to improve my weaknesses. Whenever the apostle Paul addressed diversity in the body, he commanded believers to serve one another by faithfully using their individual gifts so that together they would glorify God (see Ephesians 4:7-16 and 1 Corinthians 12).  In Your Special Gift Max Lucado describes a village of wooden people who are struggling to complete a project because each is trying to do something for which he or she is not equipped. Finally, they decide to seek the help of the woodcarver, who tells them, “Each of you should do the most what you do the best.” I’m not giving my best when I’m focusing on the areas where I feel most inadequate. My gaze is then inward instead of outward. Not only will I  never win the ‘fun aunt award,’ I’m also failing to invest in my nieces and nephews by offering what I do have to give.

So in our home, this has meant that I’ve been prioritizing an after breakfast routine where the kids work on a craft or do something tactile (like play dough or slime) while I drink a cappuccino and read from one of their Bible storybooks. It’s also during this time that we work on guarding our hearts through Scripture memorization. The kids look forward it as an anchor point in our mornings. Then throughout the day I invite them into most of my work around the house. Our family produces a lot of our own food so our kids are intimately involved in both growing and preparing what ends up on our dinner table. They love helping me unload the dishwasher, do laundry, and grocery shop. I love having them involved… But I outsource play. That’s a bit tongue and cheek, but not completely; I’m very happy to encourage friendships and look for babysitters who are especially imaginative and playful!

For some of my friends this has meant establishing a lot of purposeful structure. Others go on adventures most days. Some parents love homeschooling. Other families thrive when the kids are in more traditional school settings. One of my friends is particularly encouraging of her children. Several are natural teachers. One is really good at offering consistency in her discipline. Yet another is known for choosing a pace that allows her to really see people, and in so doing she’s teaching her children to do the same. My family has benefited from each of these women’s influence in my life. What aspects of parenting do you most enjoy? What comes most naturally to you? Doing more of it will be a gift not only to your own children but also to your faith community and to the world.

Comparing myself to others has held me back for so long. It is for this reason, especially, that I get excited about celebrating the unique gifts of my young children. But for now, Adam just thinks we’re being silly.

How will Jesus get Grandad’s body out of the ground?

April 12, 2018 /

The single event that has had the greatest impact on our family’s conversations was probably my grandfather’s death. Adam had just turned 3. We live on a small farm and only weeks before had brought home 8 piglets in order to process them in the fall. For this reason we’d begun talking about how when living things die their bodies feed other living things. We had also just hatched out 15 baby chicks, one of which ended up dying. When my son asked if we were going to eat her I explained that no, Daddy had buried her body in the ground. He was rightfully confused by this, so I described how we had covered the chick’s body with soil so that it could give life to the worms and bugs.

Thus, one of his first questions upon hearing of Grandad’s death was “Who is going to eat him? Will it be the worms and the bugs?” Praying for wisdom, I explained that Grandad’s spirit was now alive with Jesus, but that we were going to put his body in a special box called a coffin that would be lowered into the ground, buried, and left there. I then proceeded to share how someday Jesus will return to make all things new. When that happens, he will make Grandad’s body alive, again!*

Outside of this very particular context, I probably wouldn’t have talked with my three year old about death, heaven, and the promised restoration of all things. But I think we were simply walking out Deuteronomy 6:4-9, which instructs parents to talk with their kids about the Lord as they go about their daily lives. Adam continued to ask a lot of questions, especially about the burial. Thankfully, my mom is a retired school counselor so I was able to check in with her when I felt insecure about our responses.

That summer and fall a lot of Adam’s play had to do with death. He would put a stuffed animal into a box and then ask me to attach strings onto the corners so that we could lower it into a “grave.” But we would also pretend that we were seeing Jesus returning on the clouds. He still asks when each of us is going to die. I tell him that most people die when they’re really old, like his great-grandpa. He then asks when he’ll be really old, and I explain that he will likely grow up to become a teenager, and then a young man. He might then get married and become a daddy, and then a grandpa, and then a great grandpa. I often conclude by smiling and widening my eyes, a bit, before saying something like, “and then when it’s time for our bodies to die, our spirits will get to be with Jesus until he returns to make all things new! And then, everyone who loves him will come alive, again, to be with him forever!” My goal is always to hold in tension the need to relieve his anxiety, while also refusing to promise things that could leave him feeling blindsided should tragedy occur. I also want him to internalize the truth that our physical deaths are not the end of our stories.

One of my son’s recurring questions has been how Jesus will get Grandad’s body out of the ground. “Will he dig him up?” Adam wonders. I typically respond by slowing down, widening my eyes, and whispering with a mixture of excitement and wonder, “We don’t know how God’s going to do it; that’s one of the mysteries! We just know that the Bible says God will.”

One deficit of our modern, technological, post-enlightenment culture is that we don’t leave room for much of the mystery that the human spirit intuitively respects. Lately I have been learning to express confidence in God while articulating all that I don’t yet understand. We do ourselves a disservice when we either claim to know more than what we do, or when we believe our lack of understanding is necessarily a problem to be solved. The apostle Paul claimed that “now we see in a mirror dimly, but [someday we shall see] face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known” (1 Cor. 13:12). I was recently struck by Paul’s outburst at the end of Romans 11: “Oh, the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments and how inscrutable his ways!” Whereas we tend to see God’s inscrutability  as a barrier for faith, Paul indicated that our lack of understanding (coupled with confidence in God’s goodness) could actually inspire faith! All of that is to say that I’m very careful to say “I don’t know” when I don’t know. But I try to communicate delight in these mysteries, as opposed to resignation.

I wanted to write this post not so much to share about my grandpa’s death, as much as to give you context for so many of our recent conversations. If you do know children who are walking through personal grief The Dougy Center, Centering Corporation, and Compassion Books all provide age-appropriate resources for bereaved families. Local Hospice organizations often offer support groups for kids and would know of other local resources. Please do not use this post about worldview to gloss over a young child’s very real experiences of grief and loss!

May God bless you with sensitivity, grace, and wisdom as you experience the brokenness of this world with the little disciples God has entrusted into your care!

 

* My theology of heaven, Jesus’ return, and the earth’s future has been largely shaped by NT Wright’s Surprised by Hope. I will warn you that it is fairly academic. John Eldridge has recently written a book entitled All Things New that presents a similar theological perspective in an entirely different style. If you are interested in either of these, you may want to read reviews to determine which would be a better fit. I would say Wright is thorough and systematic whereas Eldridge is more emotive and imaginitive (much of the book is quotations from Tolkien’s Lord of the Rings series and Lewis’ Narnia books).

How is tonight different than all other nights?

April 1, 2018 /

 

This week we invited three other families with young children to join us for a very simplified version of a Christian Seder. The evening was designed to engage our kids in the telling of redemption’s Story, so as to situate their own lives in the broader context of that continuing drama. If you aren’t familiar with this tradition, I’ve explained it more fully here.

Thus, eight adults and seven (very young!) children gathered around our dinner table, Thursday evening. One key aspect of a Seder is that the youngest child asks four questions which provide the framework for telling the Story. In keeping with the spirit of this tradition, we had assigned one question to each of our three year olds. So candles lit and table set, we joined other families around the world in detailing how this night is different than all other nights.

“Why do we drink wine and grape juice tonight?” Piper began. “Tonight we drink wine and grape juice,” I explained, “because at the last supper Jesus gave wine to his disciples, promising that someday he’d drink with them, again, at the marriage supper of the lamb! Until then, though, we drink remembering the new covenant—God’s promise of forgiveness—established through Jesus’ blood. And so we drink both in anticipation and in remembrance of him.”

And then came my son, “Why do we eat unleavened bread, tonight?” I’d assigned him this question knowing that we’d have just baked the bread together 2 hours prior. And so I explained what he already knew. “Normally we let our bread spend all day rising before we bake it into a nice, puffy loaf,” I smiled. “But tonight we eat unleavened—or unrisen—bread to remember how when the Israelites were freed from Egypt they had to leave quickly, not even having time for their bread to rise! Yeast has also come to represent sin, so on this night we remember Jesus, the sinless one, who said, ‘I am the bread of Life’ and ‘This is my body, broken for you.’ And so we eat, recalling both the Israelites’ freedom and Jesus’ love.”

Kai was next to ask, “Why are we eating bitter herbs, tonight?” Furrowing my brow I responded, “tonight we remember the bitterness of Pharaoh’s cruel slavery when the Israelites were in Egypt, as well as the bitterness of our bondage to sin.” Here my expression lightened and I tried to smile while explaining that we get to eat the bitter herbs with a sweet apple salad called charoset because God, who works all things together for the good of those who love him, can bring sweetness even out of the most bitter circumstances.

Finally it was Evy’s turn to wonder, “Why are we dipping our herbs twice, tonight?” Again, I tried to communicate yet another tension in our faith. “This salt water reminds us of the Israelites tears, whereas the parsley represents new life. We, too, experience sadness in this broken world, but Jesus promised that just as he was resurrected to new life, someday he will come back and make us new. In this day he will wipe away all of our tears and we will live with him forever!”

After these four questions we enjoyed a hearty meal of lamb, chicken, mashed potatoes, and roasted carrots (provided by all of the women present; when people offer to contribute I generally don’t refuse!). Toward the end of dinner I explained that about 40 years after Jesus died Jerusalem was attacked and the Jewish people were scattered into all different countries where they lived in exile for almost 1900 years. It was only 70 years ago, this spring, that they were finally able to go home. While  in these foreign countries, they ended each Passover meal by expressing the hope, “Next year in Jerusalem!” “We, too, are living as foreigners,” I reminded those around my table, “away from our eternal home with Jesus. So let us conclude with our own toast, ‘Next year in the New Jerusalem!’” And with that we toasted and ate dessert.

I felt really good about the night! The entire dinner lasted just over an hour, which was perfect for our little ones. I think the formative value in such a tradition isn’t so much the experience, in and of itself, but feeling included in a larger group and the repetition through the years. If you read my post about the crucifixion, you’ll appreciate that described some elements using language that would most likely go over young children’s heads, while allowing the evening to be meaningful for family members of all ages. I would have loved to incorporate more space for silent reflection, but with so many little ones we moved things along pretty quickly. Please feel free to use anything in this post that you find helpful! I developed my script borrowing from several websites, as well as my own sense of the story. The blog that I relied on most heavily was Ann Voskamp. Her liturgy is stunningly beautiful. I would love to borrow even more of it when our kids get a bit older, but given our context I didn’t feel I could be quite that poetic. But please check hers out!

He is Risen!

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