I remember the scene perfectly: me, sitting in a scratchy dress squished into a hard-wood pew, the thread-worn olive-green cushions meant to protect my rump and keep me comfortable only making me itch more.  Looking up to see my larger-than-life father in the pew beside me with his brown hard-backed bible in his hands.  He hung on every word the pastor said.  He drank it all in.  I tried to do the same, but it was very hard with the amount of chaffing going on.  I caught bits and pieces of the lessons that so enamored my dad.  I knew Dad would hash and rehash the message with Mom on the way home and through the coming week.  I knew that, if I listened, I would garner much more knowledge than one sermon could possibly do on its own—after all, I was being raised by the two best teachers in the world—or at least I thought so.

There are so many things my parents taught me over the years.  The argument could be made that the most vital lesson they taught me was to think.  They never took a sermon, book, movie, or newscast at face value.  They always looked at things from multiple perspectives and then weighed what they learned against the Word.  I received an education far beyond what I would have learned just sitting in a pew or reading a book.  I learned how to reason, where priorities should be placed—in the Word, and most importantly that I don’t have to agree with someone else to still love them and learn from them.  My parents didn’t always agree with the sermons they heard in church, but I never heard them cutting others down.  However, they discussed what was taught and evaluated it by what God has said.

I miss those car rides home.  I miss those discussions.  I miss the evaluation that was granted to me second-hand.  However, now I get to do the same thing for my daughter.  Mattie is asking the hard questions, “Mom, if God really loves my friends, why does he allow them to suffer?”  “Mom, I just want him to be happy.  Is it wrong if what makes him happy is a sin?”  “Mom, is it okay to be angry at God that my friend was hurt?”  Tough questions—questions where black-and-white answers are sometimes more harmful than helpful.  Instead of giving her a canned answer, we evaluate every situation.  We weigh what God said in His word against what the world is saying she should do.  We talk a lot about God’s heart and His Grace.  In today’s world, we can no longer simply pour the Word into our children and expect that they know how to use it.  Our children are faced with painful situations where, if they don’t know God personally, they are not going to impact their culture for Him—but rather poison it against Him.  We cannot send kids out into the world without preparing them to deal with its trials, pains, and heartaches.

Teaching children that they should be seen and not heard, telling children that they have to blindly follow, and forcing our faith on our children doesn’t lead our children to trust God—or us.  It leads to rebellion. Leading our children through the Word with love, admitting we don’t have all the answers, praying with our children, asking our children about their own prayer life, encouraging them to ask the hard questions, having a relationship with our children that is built on respect is how we show our children the real heart of God.  He is not their dictator, but their Father.  He asks us to “come, let us reason together,” in Isaiah 1:18.  He doesn’t ask for us to blindly follow someone we don’t know.  He asks us to have a relationship with Him and to have faith in Him—even when we don’t understand or agree with what we see.  That is love.  That is who God is.  That is what it means to be a Christian.  Our children learn how to follow God from watching us follow Him.  They learn how to interact with God by watching us interact with Him.  Lord help us be the examples they need.