The Best

This past Sunday, the “Mother’s Day” sermon basically boiled down to, make sure you give your children The Best, which is, of course, Jesus. The importance of our sharing Jesus with our children can’t be argued. I also appreciate the pastor’s reminder of the importance of praying for our children.

Other than that, the two roads largely diverged. Most of the sermon was on making sure that, as a parent (Mother especially, as Sunday’s theme reflected) you take your children ‘to church,’ preferably every time the doors are open. The pastor gave examples of upstanding Christian families who do this. One was a family who drives two hours each way for Wednesday evening service. Another was a family who had an errant uncle show up on a Sunday morning wanting to visit, only to be told no, this is when we go to church.

The pastor also made a big point of “serving Jesus.” It bothered me to hear this emphazized the way it was. The verse from John 15 came to my mind: “I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends…”

My parents made sure I was taken (sometimes dragged) to church nearly every time the doors were open. I grew up with the idea that God dwelled in the building (another basic misunderstanding promoted at this organization we’re now attending). My parents did not teach me by word or example about Jesus much at all in the home; he was someone we went to the building to talk about. Certainly the pastor was promoting our teaching our children in the home as well, but I’ve seen that the emphasis on making sure they’re in the building without fail can sometimes end up being detrimental.

Popular creationist teacher Ken Ham advocates the idea that we’re losing our young people from ‘church’ as soon as they graduate high school because we haven’t taught them the facts about their faith. Presumably, as soon as they leave the nest of their parent’s particular doctrine, they go to university where secular professors and heathen fellow students convince them that their Christian faith is a bunch of bunk. Thus, their ‘faith’ goes down the tubes.

I assert that in such cases, the rubber met the road and the tires went flat. There is a big difference between what you believe and what you KNOW. You can have belief in a set of facts and in a book all day long, but until you’ve experienced a Person’s intense interest in and care for you, it isn’t faith. Youth aren’t inclined to settle for duty and commitment the way tired, discouraged adults are. They are looking for the real deal – something that grips their heart irrevocably. They have already spent countless hours in the classroom learning about things they’ve never had hands on experience with at school. I say that the ones who leave, haven’t seen that the church is any different.

I think the best we can give our children (and everyone else for that matter) is to BECOME the message. How can we be Jesus to our child, or to an errant uncle who shows up on the doorstep on Sunday morning?

Uncle Joe probably won’t be impressed if we tell him we don’t have time to visit on Sunday morning because we’re going to church. Perhaps he wouldn’t think of going because he thinks he’ll be judged (and perhaps he’s right). Maybe we could invite Uncle Joe to church and if he doesn’t want to go, stay home and visit with him. Ask him how he’s doing, really listen to his responses, and ask if we can pray for him while he’s there. If not, be a good host and a friend, then pray for him when he leaves.

We can leave Uncle Joe in the dust and hope he’s impressed by our piety because we chose “church” over him. Or, we can BE the church to him, given the face to face opportunity, and offer him company and support. We can talk about the Message, but it’s more effective to BE the Message.

As for our children, how can we be the message, how can we be Jesus? I was plopped in Sunday school for years. I sat through hundreds of church sermons, mostly doodling on a note pad. I see bored teenagers yawning in this place we’re attending now. I see children doodling on note pads just like I did.

Sometimes, the traditional route works, and adults who love God credit their parents for making sure they were “in church” all those years growing up. I daresay that statistics reflect that most of the time, that isn’t the case.

Could it be that sometimes as parents (the collective whole) we have left out the most important thing, making our children feel deeply loved? If we don’t make them feel loved as parents, we can’t hope to lead them to a true and abiding relationship with God. They don’t just want to hear about Jesus, they want to meet him.

I also believe it is crucial that we straighten out the erroneous thinking that God/Jesus are primarily found in the building. If we don't really understand the magnanimous difference of the Old Covenant and the New Covenant, how can we teach it to our children? God no longer dwells in a building, he dwells in the human heart.

If all they have distilled from their church experience that Christianity is about a bunch of facts, following the rules, being good, trying to quit sinning and showing up to a building religiously to listen to endless admonishments about not sinning and not falling off the straight and narrow, it’s likely they won’t want anything to do with Him, because they’ve never truly met Him. They feel like they’ve been sold a bill of goods, led on a “Where’s Waldo” chase that has left them literally disillusioned. It happens. A lot. As the old Wendy’s commercial says, where’s the beef?

“Jesus?” he whispered as his voice choked. “I feel so lost.”

A hand reached out and squeezed his, and didn’t let go. “I know, Mack. But it’s not true. I am with you and I’m not lost. I’m sorry it feels that way, but hear me clearly. You are not lost.”

“I hope you’re right,” Mack said, his tension lessened by the words of his newfound friend.

“C’mon,” said Jesus, standing up and reaching down for Mack. “You have a big day ahead of you. Let’s get you to bed.” He put his arm around Mack’s shoulder and together they walked back toward the cabin. Mack was suddenly exhausted. Today had been one long day. Maybe he would wake up at home in his own bed after a night of vivid dreaming, but somewhere inside he hoped he was wrong.

- from “The Shack” by William P. Young