Tag: teaching children

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What’s the Bible All About?

I was raised in a denomination that took the Bible very seriously: “We speak where the Bible speaks, and are silent where the Bible is silent!” In many ways, it was a great advantage, because I had quite a bit of knowledge by the time I graduated high school graduation: not only could I name all 66 books by sixth grade, but I could also sketch the life of Jesus, Paul’s missionary journeys, the kings of united Israel and major kings Israel and Judah, the miracles of Elisha, the plagues of Egypt , and the sons of Jacob. Name the twelve apostles? No problem. Find Jerusalem, Samaria, and the Sea of Galilee on a map? I could draw the map.

But I didn’t really know what the Bible was about. I would have said it was about a lot of things—mostly Jesus, right? I didn’t see how it all held together. My first glimmer of the unity of scripture came during my sophomore year in a denominational college, in a course called “Old Testament Literature.” My professor was known for choking up in class. A lot of my fellow students were embarrassed by him, but I will always be grateful for the way he pushed me down the road to salvation.

I can’t go into all the insights and convictions of that pivotal class, but the light first came on when he mentioned the two trees. Skimming over Genesis, he paused to point out the description of the garden in Genesis 2. The Tree of Life at the center usually gets little notice, because of all the snaky glamour of that other tree, but he referred us to Revelation 22:2: “on either side of the river, the tree of life with its twelve kinds of fruit, yielding its fruit each month. The leaves of the tree were for the healing of the nations.” I don’t remember whether he implied it or said it, but the connection clicked: the tree of Revelation was the same tree that appears in Genesis. The beginning tied directly to the end.

The discovery that the Bible was a unified narrative led to my conviction that Jesus was the Messiah prophesied throughout scripture, and hence, my savior. Wasn’t I taught that before? Sure, but I wasn’t listening too closely, and the central teaching was surrounded and often obscured by secondary issues. It’s ridiculously easy for the church to tilt off-center and lost sight of what she’s all about. But to this day, I peg my salvation from that class, and the revelation that scripture tells one story. It tells the story.

Several years ago I joined forces with Emily Whitten, my blogging partner at RedeemedReader.com, to write a one-year through-the-Bible study guide for ages 10 and up.  Our aim was to plant a sense of the scriptural unity in the minds of young students, or new students. A lot of people had the same idea at that time, such as Phil Visshur (creator of Veggie Tales) who produced a new series to teach kids What’s in the Bible? R. C. Sproul’s book by the same title was selling briskly.

We wanted to create something in the middle—for kids old enough to be independent readers, as well as new Christians of any age who don’t have a clue where to begin. (I wrote the lessons I’ll be posting; Emily adapted the material for younger kids.) We wanted the study to be accessible, easy to use, not too burdensome, and not too long.  In a year, a family or study group or individual could get a firm grasp of all the major themes and chronology of scripture.

Lots of excellent Bible curriculums pace slowly through the depths; we frankly aimed at the highlights, but also for building a framework for deeper study.  God’s revelation in history unfolded over time: beginning with hints, followed by covenants, followed by systems, followed by types and prototypes, followed by prophesies coming into ever sharper focus before the reality bursts through the screen. As we enter the brisk pick-up season of fall, huddle up during the winter, emerge from our caves in spring, and wind slowly down at the end of summer, we can watch His story unfold.

HERE’S THE PLAN

If you’d like to join me, the reading challenge will come in forty-nine installments, roughly four per month, to be posted on Tuesdays. Obviously, this leaves three weeks out of the loop, so I’ll skip Christmas week, Easter week, and the week of July.

The study follows a chronological rather than a canonical pattern. That is, rather than marching through the books of the Bible in the order they’re arranged, we’ll look at Job in connection with Genesis and selected Psalms of David along with I and II Samuel; team Daniel with Nehemiah, Joel and Malachi with the first chapters of Matthew and Luke, and so on.

Each week’s challenge will include 3-6 Bible chapters (or the equivalent), a short overview with further relevant scriptures, a key verse, 5-7 thought/discussion questions, and 2-4 suggested activities for kids.  The readings can be divided up for family devotional times, homeschool Bible classes, or personal study times.  The approach might also work well for a discipleship or mentoring situation where you meet with a new Christian once a week over coffee.

What does this look like?  For a sneak peek at a sample weekly challenge, click here.

And click here for an overview chart of the whole year, including themes and readings.

We’ll kick off with Challenge One next week.  Come along for a thrilling ride!

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Let Them Come: Teaching Children to Pray

Prayer is not a part of Christian life.  It is Christian life.  It’s what your conversion was about: union with Christ.  It’s your side of the conversation, your participation in the divine nature (II Peter 1:4).  And so many of us suck at it.

That’s the problem most of us have in teaching our children to pray.  But it’s no excuse—we teach children every day those things we may not be so good at ourselves: be patient, don’t yell, say you’re sorry (and mean it).  We don’t want to hinder these little ones from coming to Christ.  So, when thinking about how to teach them to come to him through prayer, we should first think about what hinders us?  Some possibilities:

  • Bullet-point lists (excuse the self-referential irony).  “Five tips for improving your devotional life.”  “Top ten secrets of success from the experts.”  “Six ways from Sunday.”  Goal-oriented people can’t resist a list, but their neatly-numerated charm is deceptive.  If a human being were a collection of parts that could just be oiled up occasionally we’d be easy to operate, but we’re no more likely to put a numerated tip into practice than a well-spoken word from mom or an insight from C. S. Lewis.
  • The automated head-tip.  If you were brought up in a Christian home you should be familiar with the posture your body assumes at the words, “Let us pray.”  We’re accustomed to bowing heads and closing eyes at meals, bedtime, before the sermon, after the sermon, all during communion.  This is not to be despised, but it creates a ritualized fog around something that should also be personal and intimate, and the longer we’ve been in church the more automated our prayer life can get.  When your head bows, does your mind go on auto-prayer?
  • Our Martha mode.  We’re “anxious and troubled about many things” (Luke 10:41), including how to pray.  Sometimes the prayer guides and books make us even more anxious, because the suggestions don’t seem to “work,” or what helps for a while doesn’t hold up.  The Lord’s gentle reminder about “the better part” doesn’t always help either—easy for him to say!
  • Endless distraction.  I wonder if it was easier for the saints of old to pray when their lives weren’t so crowded with entertainment, shopping lists, stuff to buy and stuff to get rid of, places to go, errands to remember—they pop up in our prayers like ads on a website.  (And if those annoy us, just imagine how God feels about it!)
  • This weird, other-worldly relationship.  You’ve heard the comparisons: if you had an appointment with the President of the United States, or even the president of the local PTA, you would have something ready to say and the proper attitude with which to say it.  But if you were married to the POTUS, or the boss of the PTA was your mom, every encounter would be ad lib and subject to the emotions of the moment.  What we have with God is intimate transcendence, invisible presence, everyday awesomeness . . . come up with your own oxymoron, and you probably wouldn’t be too far from the truth.  But then, the whole Christian faith is stuffed with these alarming juxtapositions (that we could not have made up ourselves).
  • Lack of faith that God is really there and really listening.  Is that really what it comes down to?

The good news is that grownups and children are on this journey together.  We grownups actually never stop being children in the Kingdom of Heaven, and having actual children in the house gives us a chance to revisit those lessons we didn’t fully learn the first time.

My main suggestion, for lack of anything wiser, is to become just a little more intentional about prayer as the kids grow up.  Bullet-point list coming up!  Some of these ideas may help; if not, they may be useful as a stepping stone to other ideas for weaving prayer, or an attitude of prayer, into the hours as they pass.

  • The old ACTS formula—prayer consisting of four elements of Adoration, Confession, Thanksgiving, and Supplication—makes a helpful outline for instruction.  At prayer times (family devotionals, bedtime, grace at meals), you might emphasize one or two of these (not all four): What can we praise God for today?  What should you ask forgiveness for?   Is there anyone we can ask God to help?
  • Speaking of bedtime prayers, this is a great time to review the day.  Talk about things that might be troubling them or things they might be especially happy about.  Share things you’re thankful about, discuss ways God can help with problems, probe for faults that need to be forgiven, etc.  These topics may pop up naturally at the end of an outstanding or traumatic day, but if it’s just ordinary, ask a leading question or two to draw out prayer material: What was your favorite part of today? What would you like to do tomorrow? Who do you know that needs help?  Keep these conversations brief, unless some issue comes up that needs to be talked out.
  • If you have more than two children, spending time with each at bedtime may not be possible.  That’s okay; just try to arrange time for an evening chat twice a week, or every other day.  If something comes up with a particular child, the schedule may have to be rearranged, but flexibility is a skill worth learning.
  • Remember Jesus.  If you’ve ever read Mere Christianity, you may remember Lewis’s discussion of prayer as a kind of trinitarian group project.  When we pray, it’s the Holy Spirit within prompting us, God the Father before us, and Jesus beside us.  I’ve drawn great comfort from two verses about Christ’s intercession: “Who is there to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died and was raised and is now at the right hand of God interceding for us” (Rom. 8:34).  Also Hebrews 7:25: “Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who come to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them.”   These passages would be good to memorize, and frequently thank Jesus for being there “Before the Throne of God Above” for us.
  • In times of crisis, don’t pray alone!  When appropriate, include the kids in lifting up Grandma’s cancer diagnosis, Dad’s unemployment, big brother’s emergency appendectomy.  Use your judgment about this, though.  Don’t bring the kids alongside your marriage problems (they need Mom and Dad to at least appear unified) or burden them with too much trauma.  Just show them that you, too, carry burdens that Jesus is willing to share.
  • Speaking of crisis, let prayer come naturally when you’re in a jam.  Several years ago, during a car trip from Texas to Missouri, the alternator in our old station wagon went out.  I didn’t notice the battery light, so we just ran it out until the vehicle simply stopped, giving me just enough time to pull over.  Since my husband wasn’t along I was the only responsible adult, and my first impulse was blind panic (What do I do???).  But the Holy Spirit prompted me to say, “We’re going to pray about this.”  So I did, and within a minute after Amen a highway patrol car pulled up behind us.  (My sister has a similar story about getting hopelessly lost in New York City.)  Such a prompt reply is not necessarily going to happen every time, but pray anyway, and God will take care of the rest.
  • Make prayer a conversation.  Even in informal settings, we tend to take turns, keep our heads bowed (furtively peeking when someone gets up), and if someone starts her turn the same time we do it’s so embarrassing.  No one conducts conversations this way, unless it’s by the aid of a shaman-esque talking stick or mic.   A group free-for-all wouldn’t work, but if it’s just you and Molly and Dan (for instance), you shouldn’t be afraid to ask a question in the midst of a prayer (“Who was that lady you mentioned?”) or add a coda (“And thanks for Molly’s first time on the big slide—that was fun!”).  You may not even feel the need to bow your heads: hold hands and look up occasionally, or sing a short praise chorus or Psalm.  (And singing during prayers is perfectly fine!)
  • If you have family devotionals, you might do occasional popcorn prayers, where you ask each child (and include Mom and Dad) to make a specific petition, offer a particular praise, thank God for something that happened during the day that made you happy, etc.  You might even put slips of paper in a jar for each family member to draw out.  That’s their prayer “assignment” for the evening.  And it’s okay to swap.
  • If we’re in too much of a hurry to get to petitions, praising gets neglected.  Cultivate a habit of praise during the day: if you hear a beautiful piece of music, enjoy a clear blue sky and a fresh breeze, witness a perfect figure-skating maneuver or home run, comment on it, and remember to praise God for it during prayer time.  It’s fine, of course, to praise God for it in the moment, as long as the praise sounds natural and not calculated.

As I hope you can tell, all this is more attitude than checklist, habits of thought before action.  I can’t tell you or your kids how to pray.  Only God can do that—keep asking him.

(This post is a continuation of “Hinder Them Not“)

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“Hinder Them Not”

You know the story, pictured in so many children’s Bibles and Sunday school literature: Jesus and the Children.  When the officious grownups—his own followers—tried to brush off women who were bringing their babies for him to bless, his rebuke stopped them cold and still warms every mother’s heart: “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for to such belong the Kingdom of God.”

This implies a lot—that little children would run to Jesus if they had the opportunity, that they are often hindered from coming, and that they possess some quality that preeminently suits them for membership in the kingdom of God.  You’ve heard sermons on the “for such belongs” part, so I won’t dwell on it here.  I’m interested in “Let them come” and “do not hinder.”  Two questions: Would little children freely come?  And if so, how are they “hindered”?

The answer to the first question is probably yes and no.  In himself, Jesus is inherently appealing, as every excellent and beautiful thing we cherish in this world owes its very existence and character to him.  But our minds are clouded by less-than-excellent and beautiful motives, distractions, and impulses.  If we could see him clearly, we would all run to him, not just the little children.  But we can’t, so most of us don’t, and that includes little children.

However . . . let’s say our motives are honorable and we have welcomed Jesus as our Lord and Savior and earnestly desire our children to do the same.  Can we still hinder them?

Yes—with the best motives in the world.  Here’s how:

  • A too-literal interpretation of Deuteronomy 6:7: “You shall teach [God’s law] diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise . . .”  It’s one thing to apply God’s law in ordinary conversation, and another to drop leaden exhortations.  Character education was a thing back in the 80s and 90s—remember that?  (And did you notice any general improvements in character as a result?)  Often this came in the form of reminders to “Be diligent” or “Be kind” coupled with mini-biographies of people who modeled these virtues.  Too often it sounded like school, as though everyday relateable Mom or Dad switched off for a moment to let Preacher Mom or Dad make an announcement.  As soon as Preacher Mom comes on, the kid tunes out.
  • “Jesus” training.  You know the Sunday-school joke about the right answer to every question being “Jesus”?  (It happened to me just a couple of Sundays ago, when I asked what the first five books of the Bible were.  The answer, of course, is “Jesus.”)  The statement “Jesus is the answer” is literally true but not always truly literate.  That is, it takes a few steps to get from the problem to the answer, so when the kids come to you with a problem (or clearly have one they don’t want to talk to you about), don’t be so quick to solve it with the Jesus answer.  Take some time to explore the issue, and as you do, you’ll find that Jesus almost certainly said something that applies.  And if he didn’t say it, he did it.
  • Shutting down honest doubts.  If you ever get a fluttery feeling in your stomach when your kindergartner wonders how all those animals could have fit inside the ark, or your pre-teen asks who made God, or you high-school senior demands where God was during the Holocaust . . . relax.  It’s often a good sign; it means they’re thinking.  Talk through their doubts, share (where appropriate) your own questions and uncertainties, explore possible answers, and offer to look into it further.  You can be sure every question has been answered and no doubt necessitates unbelief all by itself.
  • Non-engagement with the culture.  You will not protect children by isolating them from the world.  Their main problem is within, not without.  The question about how much to “engage” is a vexing one that parents need to think through carefully, since what may be appropriate for one family could be damaging for another.  A mom’s background in literature or psychology, for example, could help guide her teen daughter through a suicide novel like 13 Reasons Why, where another mother with a super-sensitive son might be well-advised to skip the novel altogether (and the TV series even more).  Don’t ever forget: They’re going to grow up.  They’re going to leave you.  They’re going to have to make these decisions about engagement on their own.  Your job is to prepare them, not protect them.
  • Creating your own “culture.” As a homeschool mother from 1985 to 1996, I encountered parents who told me that homeschoolers were God’s new shock troops who were going to change the culture.  They related everything to religion, scattered Bible quotes throughout the house, referenced Jesus everywhere, spoke in a certain vocabulary and dressed a certain way.  Especially around their children.  Many of these kids turned out just fine, but many others broke loose at the earliest possible moment.  And by the way, they didn’t change the culture.
  • Relying too much on ourselves and our own resources.  See “Creating your own culture,” above.  With some parents, the impulse is almost frantic: If I don’t do x, my kids will fall into y.  Chances are, they’re going to fall into some kind of sin; you may steer them away from drinking but they’ll stumble at sex.  Or if they avoid all the fleshly pitfalls, they’ll fall prey to spiritual pride, which is even worse.  Your Savior is also their Savior, and he is supremely able to do what you can’t.
  • Failing to be genuine.  Is your speech more “religious” when speaking to your kids than when you talk to your peers?  You can be sure they pick up on that, too.

If none of these apply to you, you are the perfect Christian mom or dad.  Bad news: You’re not.  Good news: Though you have a vital job to do, its success doesn’t depend on you.  Even better news: God is fully aware of your weakness and has already accounted for it.  That’s what the cross is about.  So everybody take a deep breath and then we can get practical.

Once we become a little better about not hindering, we can start encouraging.  The children in the story didn’t come to Jesus on their own accord; their mothers had to bring them.  Even today, in a society vastly removed from first-century Palestine, it’s usually the mothers who bond early and teach their little ones to walk and talk and eat what’s good for them . . . and take their first steps toward God.

One very basic step along that road is learning to pray.  Chances are, the very first person a child hears praying is a parent.  It should be so easy, yet it’s hard to teach.  In fact, the inspiration for this blog post is a mother asking me for advice in teaching kids to pray.  She had little confidence that her children, ages 10 and 12, had never learned to pray on their own, in spite of all her modeling and teaching.

I told her I could at least think about it.  So I did, and I came up with some thoughts.  But you’ll have to come back next week to see what they are.