shaping children's faith through story

Tag: children’s faith formation

Family Seder 2020

Imagine thousands of families, each huddled together in homes, collectively praying, hoping, and waiting for death to pass them by. Who could have believed that the children of Israel’s first Passover would be so easy for us to imagine, today? Though we are not Jewish, my husband and I have commemorated this event in Israel’s history for several years (see our rationale here). Typically we invite friends to join us in our celebration, but this year will obviously look quite different. Nevertheless, I’m so thankful to be able to gather my own for an evening of remembrance, thereby anchoring our own lives in the unchanging truth of the Bigger Story.

I’m sure this script will see several edits in the coming days, but I offer it now as we’re all thinking through how to approach Easter at home. So to begin, here’s what you’ll need to have for the symbolic foods-

  • Red wine or grape juice
  • Unleavened bread (flour, oil, salt)
  • Bitter herbs (We’ll use dandelion, dock, and dead nettle, all common weeds in our yard.)
  • Fresh vegetable (We’ll use kale from our garden, but celery, potatoes, and parsley are commonly used.)
  • Charoset (apples, walnuts, honey or brown sugar, sweet wine or grape juice)

Family Seder 2020

After lighting candles, I’ll begin by explaining, Tonight we remember God rescuing his people from death. Our Seder is based on the Jewish Passover meal that Jesus ate with his disciples on the night he was betrayed. Every year during Passover, families would gather in their homes—just like we’re doing now—to eat special foods that reminded them of the very first Passover, when God brought his people out of slavery in Egypt. So now these same foods help us remember that Jesus saves us, as well. Daddy is going to begin by praying for us, and then you’ll take turns asking your questions as we eat these special foods.

How is this night different than every other night? On other nights we eat salads and vegetables, but why on this night are we just eating bitter herbs?

Tonight we eat dandelion greens and dock to remind us of the bitterness of the Israelite’s slavery in Egypt, as well as the bitterness of our own bondage to sin… Like the very first Passover, we are gathered in our home, experiencing the bitterness of living in a broken world ravaged by sickness, violence, and death. So now we’ll eat these greens quietly as we think about the bitterness of sin (eat the bitter herbs in silence).

On other nights we don’t get to dip our foods even once, but why on this night do we dip twice?

The first time we dip, we are dipping our kale in saltwater to remind us of the Israelites’ salty tears while living in Egypt. But we also think about our own tears, living in frail bodies still impacted by the fall. Romans 8 says that we groan right along with all of creation as we eagerly await the full redemption of our bodies, when Jesus will come back to restore the world and make all things new.

And this is why we dip, the second time. Instead of dipping in salt water to represent our tears, we’ll dip our unleavened bread in sweet charoset. When Jesus returns he will wipe every tear from his people’s eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, but only the joy of being with Jesus forever!

On other nights we drink only water, but why on this night are we drinking wine and sparkling grape juice?

In the Bible, wine represents blood. So during Passover, we remember that God’s salvation comes through death. Back in Egypt, God kept his people safe by telling them to sacrifice a lamb. Now our lives are eternally safe through the blood of Jesus. Yet mysteriously, unless Jesus comes back first, it is only through our own deaths that we will enter into the joy of being alive with him forever.

But wine also symbolizes celebration. During their Passover dinner, when Jesus gave wine to his disciples, he promised them that even though he was preparing to die, someday he would drink wine, again, at the marriage supper of the lamb! So as we drink our wine and grape juice, let’s remember both Jesus’ sacrifice and his promise (drink wine and/ or juice).

On other nights we eat sourdough bread, but why on this night are we eating unleavened bread?

Normally we let our bread rise all day before we bake it into a nice, puffy loaf. But tonight we eat unleavened—or unrisen—bread to remember how the Israelites waited and waited for God’s rescue, but then when it was finally the time for their deliverance, they left Egypt fast, not even waiting for their bread to rise!

For followers of Jesus, the bread also reminds us of Jesus, the bread of life. During the last supper he took the bread, broke it, and gave it to his disciples, saying “This is my body, given for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”

So let us eat while remembering how quickly God delivered his people from Egypt, and also how Jesus’ life was freely given so that we might live (eat matzo).

And now, we get to eat all of these things together (begin preparing a piece of matzo, topped with bitter herbs and charoset)! Like matzo, bitter herbs, and sweet apple charoset, our lives aren’t usually just bitter or just sweet, but a mixture of many different circumstances and emotions, often experienced all together. But whatever comes, by faith we can trust in Jesus’ promise to be with us always, along with Paul’s conviction that nothing could separate us from his love.

When everyone is ready for the main course, we’ll then recite the Lord’s prayer and then eat a family-style dinner, together.

May God bless you as you seek God with your loved ones, this holiest and most devastating of weeks!

Can we tell just one more story? Preparing our kids for unknown pressures

We had just finished reading bedtime stories when my son asked, “Can we tell each other just one more story?” Typically I would have said no; we had our routine and this was probably a stall tactic. But I decided to indulge him. I’d just read Jesus’ warning that the beginning of the Great Tribulation would be signaled by “the abomination of desolation spoken of by the prophet Daniel,” and had been reflecting on different times in history when Christians have been deceived into following leaders who have essentially demanded their worship. And so I began, “One day Jerusalem was besieged by the Babylonians, and four teenage boys were captured and led off far from home. Their names were Daniel, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego…”

There is so much that I wonder about this story. The Bible describes these four boys as “youths.” All of the sources I’ve read put them between 11-16 years old. How in the world did these teenagers have the discernment and strength to resist the king’s choice food (during their 3 year re-education program), claim that God might reveal Nebuchadnezzar’s dream to Daniel, and then refuse to bow down to the king’s image of gold?

I wonder how they developed the ability to think independently of their peers and those in authority, taking seriously dietary laws and idol worship even as young teenagers living without their family’s guidance. For most of my life I had assumed that they were just maintaining their monotheistic Hebrew identities, but one of the primary reasons that they were in Babylon was because of their own people’s idolatry. When I began telling Adam this story I accidentally identified Shadrach, Meshack, and Abednego by their Babylonian names. Their Hebrew names were Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah. This is significant because it suggests their parents’ deep faith in the one true God. All three names ended in either “ah” (which is shorthand for Jehovah) or “el” (one of the names of God). Most scholars believe the boys to have been the children of Jerusalem’s nobility. They would have been born towards the end of King Josiah’s reign, during which all places of idolatrous worship had been destroyed and the temple was cleansed. Nevertheless, the roots of idolatry ran deep. Two years before Daniel and his friends were exiled, the prophet Jeremiah had stood in the temple calling for repentance in order that God might avert the impending disaster (Jeremiah 26). This had been their world. So I wonder what kind of family culture nurtured such incredible tenacity in a climate of compromise.

Another thing that I wonder is whether they’d ever personally witnessed a miracle. The years immediately leading up to their Babylonian captivity were pretty dark ones, spiritually speaking. Yet when their lives were threatened, “Daniel went in to the king and asked for time, so that he might interpret the dream for him. Then Daniel returned to his house and explained the matter to his friends Hananiah, Mishael and Azariah.  He urged them to plead for mercy from the God of heaven concerning this mystery, so that he and his friends might not be executed with the rest of the wise men of Babylon” (Daniel 2:16-18). And God did it! What in the world made Daniel and his friends think that God might actually save them?! Had they ever seen God do such a thing? 

Several years later, their lives were again threatened for their refusal to bow before the king’s golden image. Receiving the contents and interpretation of a dream is one thing, but what from their history allowed them to claim, “our God whom we serve is able to deliver us from the burning fiery furnace, and he will deliver us out of your hand, O king” (Daniel 3:17)? Why didn’t they just accept that they were going to be martyred? Had they received a word from the Lord? We know that Daniel had been given the interpretation of dreams, but he wasn’t around and we don’t read anything about his three friends being given similar gifts. Even if they had, what kind of close relationship with God gave them such confidence that they really were hearing from God?

All of these questions lead me to wonder what their previous experiences of God had been and which stories from their history had so strongly shaped their identities and expectations of God. Had they been told about God giving Joseph the meaning of Pharaoh’s dreams? We know that the Passover feast was celebrated after Josiah had the temple cleansed. So had their worldview been formed hearing of God’s great deliverance when their ancestors were slaves in Egypt? Were they so different from my own children who love marching around “Jericho’s wall” (made of either snow or cardboard blocks) and then knocking it down with shouts of triumph? Had they been inspired by Gideon’s (eventual) courage and God’s supernatural deliverance from the Midianites? Did they exercise their young imaginations by fighting Goliath with homemade slingshots? Even while many of their contemporaries worshiped idols had they celebrated God’s victory during the showdown between Elijah and the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel? I wonder if their parents’ faces lit up with hope while sharing Isaiah’s prophesy that “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you” (Isaiah 43:2, emphasis added). I can’t help but imagine them getting chills while articulating that last promise, fully believing its truth yet unable to even imagine how deeply and personally their children would come to know it in the days ahead.

I obviously do not know the answers to these questions, but they inspire me to nurture my children’s hearts and minds to be able to stand under the pressures of an unknown future. Chances are good that I will get to accompany them through their teenage years, unlike the parents of Daniel and his friends. Even so,  Eugene Peterson claims that “adolescence is the time when we become ourselves. The experiences and training of childhood are reformulated and individualized into a personal identity. ” (Like Dew Your Youth, page 11). My kids’ job will eventually be to reformulate and individualize their faith, but these years are my opportunity to provide the raw materials. And so sometimes I embrace stall tactics to tell just one more story.

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

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).



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