One Giant Leap: From Knowing to Believing

A church isn't exactly the most difficult place to teach. Most of the people there - adults and kids - are basically like-minded. There are no tests, and so none of the outsmarting-the-teacher games that go on in schools. People are good-natured and will laugh at your jokes. Nonetheless, a church may be the most difficult place to teach effectively. That's because in church we're not teaching merely for people to know, we're teaching for them to believe.

As a classroom teacher (which I was for two years out of college), you learn many tricks for "getting students to learn", if you can call it that. The reality is, you're getting them to perform - to recall or recite or regurgitate something they've heard or read back to you on a test. This is the standard drill: you speak, they hear, you ask, they give it back, they forget, everyone moves on. And classroom teachers possess the power of the grading pen to compel the kind of output they want.

As a young teacher I fell into this power trap. Thinking I would "help" my students learn a list of economics terms, I told them I'd give them as many tries as they needed, but they had to get all of the answers right. It seemed like a sound strategy; but as some students reached their fifth and sixth attempts, it dawned on me that they couldn't possibly be understanding the meaning of the words (there were only about 20) and yet failing repeatedly to identify their definitions. I also soon realized that it was possible for clever students to look for one or two distinctive words in the definitions and simply match those to the right words. Technically, these students weren't "learning" the words either, so much as they were outsmarting the test.

I retell that story here because experiences like that have shaped my thinking about good teaching and learning and have driven me away from a definition of learning that equates it with merely the acquisition of facts. Anyone who's honest would admit that learning (used here as synonymous with "understanding" or "comprehending" or "catching on" or "getting it") is more than exhibiting a particular outward behavior; specifically, we can't conclude that someone has learned something just because they say the correct answer. The question is whether they know what that correct answer means.

On top of all of that is the fact that we are not just teaching for people to know, but for them to believe. That is to say, it's not enough that a kid comes through our program knowing the facts of Jesus' life and death - that's only the start. We would hope - in fact, we'd be derelict to settle for anything less - that he feels some sort of allegiance and obligation because of what he knows: in a word, that he would believe.

As a result, the work of good Christian Education goes beyond getting kids to give right answers. The best teachers know how to probe for understanding and how to ask follow-up questions to create a personalization and contextualization for the person answering. The question isn't "what does the Bible say" - anyone who can read can tell you that, whether they belive it or not. The question is, what does the Bible mean and what are you going to do about it? These are the questions we should be challenging kids with as we help them make the giant leap from knowing to believing. And "help" is the right word. It's not dishonoring a kid's accomplishment to ask her to explain the Bible verse she just recited, or to ask a boy what he means when he says Jesus is his savior. Rewarding pat answers because they sound just right actually does kids a disservice, sending the message that depth and understanding aren't really important in faith, but appearances are.

I witnessed a master at this - my old supervisor in children's ministry in Virginia - when I visited her camp in West Virginia this summer. On the camp's closing day, a boy proudly reported to her that he'd prayed to receive Christ. Did she high-five him? Hug him? Shower him with praise? Hardly! Instead, she subjected him to 10 minutes of grilling about the meaning of his decision. A critic may have upbraided her for raining on the kid's parade. But what she was doing was helping him analyze and ultimately solidify his commitment. He's better off for it.

Where does feeling factor in to all of this? Could we just make kids want Jesus by playing on their emotions - fear of death, guilt over sin, sorrow about the passion story? Frankly, yes, and history shows us that emotion-driven decisions make for shallow conversions. I'm not a fan of exploiting emotions (on either end of the spectrum: exhiliration about eternal life or fear of hell) to bring young people to a point of spiritual decision. To me, it's self-defeating: we coax them into "making a decision" at an emotionally charged moment of their life, then turn around and in our discipleship (assuming they receive any) teach them how to make life decisions by prayer, contemplation, counsel of other believers - anything but emotion!

And yet, emotion has its place in church. Without it, our educational programs especially become dry and dull. The enthusiasm of a teacher opens the door for understanding; without it, the message hardly stands a chance (yes, 18th Century preacher Jonathan Edwards, who read his manuscripts word-for-word with no inflection, would be the exception). In our room, the decor, the music, the equipment, the activity level - all are intended to send a positive message: you're welcome here! We have fun! We enjoy Jesus!

So it's entirely appropriate to communicate emotion as well as knowledge. Belief, in my opinion, springs from some unknown combination of the two: we know, and we also feel compelled to commit ourselves to what is true. I know my pickup is blue; I believe Jesus is the savior of the world. Emotion unaccompanied by knowledge winds up producing allegiance to the community, rather than to any set of particular beliefs. This, I believe, is another reason so many active youth group members walk away from church once they reach college: they were in love with the particular fellowship of their home church, but not necessarily committed to the belief system.

We're always looking at better ways to teach. Often we fail. Knowledge gets communicated, but it doesn't stick - there's no belief there. But on the occasions when belief is the product of our efforts, it's powerful. And it reminds us why teaching in the "difficult" environment of a church is infinitely worth it.

I'd Choose You Any Day

If I could have one wish in ministry, it wouldn't be for more equipment, or double the number of leaders (although we could use that), or for a flashier room or unlimited event budget. I would wish that every parent would take their child's spiritual potential seriously.

When that happens, discipleship stops being an option and becomes an imperative. Parents regain their position as the primary disciplers of their child and the church assumes a supporting role. As much as I believe in ministry, I also recognize that our effectiveness is constrained from the start by the kind of home environment a kid comes out of.

To put it another way: given the choice between you and me, I'd choose you any day. That's because you, the parent, creates and sustains this special environment known as "home". Home holds a unique and powerful position in the life of a child. It is the foundation of their universe. School assumes an important role the older they get - the center of academic, social, and athletic life - but even into adolescence, when the time spent at home and with family diminishes, home remains a sanctuary. The rules of the home delineate acceptable and unacceptable, the routines define normal and abnormal. Home is, ideally, a place of absolute safety, unconditional love, a constructive and helpful environment.

But I'm not Pollyanna-ish enough to believe that every home is a utopia. You are stressed, overscheduled, under financial strain, underappreciated, at wit's end dealing with misbehaviors - in a word, human. The fact that many parents are breathing a sigh of relief as school restarts is less an indication of parental inadequacy than it is a reflection of the fact that parents never get a break. You just have to press on, through holidays and birthdays and school programs and teacher conferences and sports and lessons and next year's summer vacation, and before you know it, your kid is in middle school and knocking on the door of 13. I truly believe that most parents do the best they can. There just isn't time for a massive re-evaluation and re-tooling of your parenting practices once you become one. You just sort of...do it. I also believe that, lacking deliberate effort to the contrary, most of us will end up parenting the same way we were parented. Sometimes this is conscious - "My mom and dad did x, and I turned out ok" - and sometimes it's not, such as when we unwittingly fall back on shaming and guilting as methods of disciplining, despite our distaste for shame as children.

So as good as I want our upper elementary ministry to be - and we continue to strive to improve it - I want even more for you to be a success as a parent. As I said, I think it's rare that someone carries through with an overhaul of their parenting. TV shows like SuperNanny and Wife Swap prove that old habits die hard: even when change is obviously needed, the advice is only grudgingly accepted, and you get the sense by the end of the episode that nothing really is going to change. But people can change - I've seen it. Parents pick up bits of wisdom that, judiciously exercised, make a huge difference in their outlook. Moms and dads learn to communicate differently, and in the process, painful verbal sparring with children decreases.

The most effective change I've seen comes when parents meet other parents who are navigating the same issues. There is an unspoken brotherhood between parents of incorrigible teens, or of children with special needs, or of angry, violent kids (usually boys). Books are great; understanding in the flesh is ten times as great. Sometimes this parent can lend advice that unlocks a solution for that parent. Sometimes they can recommend a resource. Sometimes they can only commiserate - and that's enough.

There is untapped potential in bringing parents together. We're about to find out how much. This Fall we plan to offer programs for parents that run alongside our new Thursday night midweek program. So while we minister to 4th-6th grade kids (an important program), just down the hall we'll also be building into 4th-6th grade parents (the really important program). (I'm toying with calling it "ParentCare" - what do you think?)

This all kicks off September 13. I'll be speaking that night on "The Nine Things Your Kid Needs to Thrive Spiritually." But more importantly, it'll be a chance to put faces with names, meet parents who have kids in your child's grade and at your child's school, and put heads together about how we can help each other build strong homes & families. On September 28, in conjunction of with Marriage and Family Ministry, we are bringing in a speaker named Tim Smith. A discussion group on his book "The Danger of Raising Nice Kids: Preparing Our Children to Change Their World" will run Thursdays beginning September 20. Beyond that, the popular "Raising a Modern Day Knight" series for dads will be offered again this October. Into 2008, we hope to offer similar workshops for moms of boys and dads of girls, too.

We have big dreams. But they're all driven by the reality that success in church programming rises and falls on the spiritual foundation laid in the home. Better than a thousand dodgeball games or 20 summer camps or 500 raucous duct tape nights, you are the key to your child's spiritual health. You set the context of their whole life. Yep - I'd choose you any day.

Why I Believe in the Church

I think Christian kids should get involved in Boy Scouts. And local theater troupes. And dance and Little League and Junior Lifeguards and orchestra and every other club under the sun. But above all this, I think Christians should be involved in church.

And that's for one simple reason: the church works.

I've just returned from a camp put on for 3rd-5th graders last week in West Virginia. Now in its seventh summer, the sponsoring church plans and programs and staffs the entire week on its own. Most of the leadership staff are parents, but most of the counselors are high school students, which means after seven years that the camp is starting to re-cycle some of its original campers as counselors.

And this is creating a culture of "give-back" ministry in that church that is really something to admire. Here's a common sentiment expressed to me by a 5th grade boy who just finished his fourth and final year at camp: "Next year I'm going to junior high camp, and then I'll go to senior high camp, and then I'm going to be a counselor at Camp Quest." One counselor, also a former camper, shared his mock frustration midway through the week: "I want to get upset with them, but then I look at all four of my kids and think, 'Each one of them is exactly like me!'"

The value of this is that it creates a localized mission field where young kids are eager to be cared for and older kids look forward to providing it. Not only does the camp fill every year, but perhaps more encouraging, there's a waiting list and interview process for counselors; not everyone who volunteers is chosen. The younger kids return from the week in awe and their teenage mentors spend the next year larger-than-life and proud to be recognized back home by their former charges.

I'm a big believer in the church and in ministry. I think we should use the church to leverage whatever spiritual advantages we can, especially for kids. As I wrote last week, Christian kids don't exist in a vacuum. They either have a group of Christian friends with which to affiliate themselves, or they will gradually shed their identification with the church. But for kids, it's not enough to just "be" together; they want to "do" together. When the church is doing what it should, it is bringing people together to meet each other's needs - in other words, facilitating ministry. It's not just maintaining a physical space where people gather to sing and hear a nice speaker. Coming together isn't sufficient; the church needs to create reasons and opportunities to meet. When that happens, people are mutually edified, they're cared for, they're strengthened in their faith, they're reaffirmed as part of the family…and, there's a reason to grow. As long as I remain a child - always receiving, never charged with giving - there's no urgency to my spiritual development, because pretty much all I'm expected to do is show up. Give me a problem to solve or a team to lead or person to guide, though, and I'm obliged to get my act together. That, I think, is the essence of what Ephesians 4 means, especially v. 16: "From [Christ] the whole body, joined and held together by every supporting ligament, grows and builds itself up in love, as each part does its work."

"Being part of the church" today means something different than it did in the New Testament. Then, it was primarily an identification - you belonged to the church because you were among those who believed Christ was the Messiah. Today "joining a church" is more like selecting and joining a health club or buying a new car: we find the one with all the features that we want and that feels right, and when our choice gets old we move on to another. This consumerist approach obscures the reality, which is that every believer "belongs" to the Church regardless of where, or how often, they may physically frequent one.

So let's live like it! Stewardship experts often speculate what the Church could do if everyone who attended, tithed. But how much richer would our lives be if we were all meaningfully engaged in ministry?