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.
Info, articles, and thoughts for parents of kids at North Coast Calvary Chapel.
