I had the privilege to speak in "Big Church" last weekend on discipleship. "Disciple" and "discipline" are related words, both stemming from "learning". In a Christian sense, discipleship is a type of learning that helps us both remain in Christ and keep growing.
And the principles of discipleship apply equally to adults and kids.
Do you believe that?
I'm afraid a lot of people don't. I'm afraid a lot of people are convinced that kids are somehow capable of less than the life-changing, robust learning that is the stuff of discipleship. And that view causes us to view them as only "eventual Christians" and to give them on a type of instruction that fills their heads but does not feed their souls.
That's a shame. And it accounts for the kids who are raised in church and grow up knowing all the "right" answers, who end up far away from church once they're older. Which is a majority of those who come through our churches.
Let me say that again: a majority - an overwhelming majority of kids who are raised in church - some surveys say 70%, others say 80% or as high as 90% - spend their young adult years away from the church. We've long comforted ourselves with the knowledge that "once they have kids, they'll come back", but the demographic reality of later marriage and elective singleness or childlessness makes that less of a certainty.
What's going on? Somehow, we are failing to capture kids' hearts, which is a critical component of developing disciples. When Jesus said, "Go into all the world and make disciples of all nations," he didn't say just teach. He could have, but the word he used that we translate as "make disciples" carries the sense of "teach them in such a way that they are changed into something else."
There is a magic moment that every teacher knows, when a student goes from just being a pupil, to being a learner - a self-motivated, devoted student of the subject at hand. Not every kid who receives art instruction is changed into a artist. Not every kid who sit under a music teacher becomes a musician. Not every history student becomes a historian. But when they do, the teacher has done more than just taught - they've changed a life.
That's disciple learning. And it's tied up in relationship. It doesn't usually happen without the influence of a teacher. It can happen that a kid falls in love with history from a book, and they find themselves changed into historians. But more often, there is that special teacher whom they admire and emulate. It is their pattern of speaking, of thinking, of reacting, of handling challenges - of simply living that becomes the living, breathing, teaching example.
That's why parents and the way home environments operate matter so much, because like it or not, if a parent self-identifies as a Christian, kids will learn powerfully from their examples. I do not, however, subscribe to any side in the "Whose responsibility is it - church or parents?" debate that has cropped up in the last ten years. On the one hand, no church leader or program can hope to have the influence that a parent has by virtue of the sheer amount of time they spend with their kid. On the other hand, some parents won't or don't want to oversee the discipleship of their kids, and churches have the size and resources to create worship and learning environments that you can't in your own home. It's everyone's job to disciple kids, and we should welcome that influence from wherever it originates.
The message is archived here; scroll to the 10:45 am service for September 13.
Info, articles, and thoughts for parents of kids at North Coast Calvary Chapel.
Sunday, September 20, 2015
Sunday, September 13, 2015
As We Suffered in the Heat...
Tough week this week, huh? What with the heat sending us scrambling for the library or movie theater or other air conditioned-enterprises because home relaxation was impossible and sleep uncomfortable.
Meanwhile, here's what you weren't doing. You weren't slogging across Hungary, trying to evade a razor-wire boundary with Serbia, in the rain, pushing your child onto a train. You weren't coming to grips with the fact that the new refugee camp you live in might become your permanent home, and that you might never go back to life as it was.
A news report I saw this week showed what a lot of refugees who had set out from Turkey were doing the moment they reached the Greek island of Lesbos: they were pulling out their cell phones, texting friends and relatives back where they came from, that they were safe.
Texting relatives? The imagery seems a little bit out of place. Aren't refugees poor, and desperate, and homeless? Aren't they dirty, and sick, and hungry? They are all of those things, at times, but the reality is more complex. The images of them pulling out smart phones jarred me, because it underscored for me something that's been hard to get my mind around: they're not that different from me and you.
That's one piece of a larger mosaic of disbelief in my mind that's been forming. Since I heard about the beheading of Iraqi and Syrian Christians, I was at the same time drawn to the story, and distanced from it. Again and again, as I have plodded through first-world daily concerns, I have struggled to reconcile the fact that we and they live in the same world. The brutality reported seems almost medieval. But it's not. It's today. Young girls being raped as prizes of conquest. Teenage boys and men being marched off and systematically executed. Christians being compelled to renounce their faith as they stare down the barrel of a rifle.
And now...In other news, Apple debuted the iPhone 6s today.
How is this happening, all in the same world? How is it REALLY happening? For some reason, Afghanistan seemed a world away. Iraq and Syria did, too - until recent images of refugees fleeing border police and storming trains in Europe caught my attention, suggesting as they do that this is coming closer and closer to our doorstep (and shame on me that it took this long ).
Is this "count your blessings" blog post? Maybe. But it's more. It's a call for us to consider that this isn't happening over there...but in our world, today. That thought blows my mind. If we wait to care until the "problem" hits our own shores and truly inconveniences us, we won't be objective about it. I won't be.
In light of the fact that these are fellow human beings, made in the image of God, what does God expect of me? I honestly don't know. But I do know this: deliberate ignorance isn't an option. I know that in the last 4 years, while I have gotten married, finished seminary, and taken on a new role at my church, Syria and the region around it has been descending into hell. And I know that Jesus entered humanity and suffered with them, as surely as he suffered with us.
Pray for the children. It may sound trite, but war is hugely disrupting to a nation. Think of all the social institutions you rely on now, when your kids are young, that help outfit them for the future: schools, clinics, parks, rec programs, churches. Now imagine them closing for four years. What would you do? How easily could you arrange alternatives, especially if at the same time you were displaced from your home, having to find work, shelter, and daily food?
Remember the desperate situation of people during Hurricane Katrina? Remember what they were called? That's right - refugees. And some lost their homes, but rebuilt. Even after 10 years, things are not "normal" in New Orleans.
And that was water. Syria is war. There is ongoing destruction and displacement. Once it ends, it will take years to resume "normal".
I know some people have looked at what's unfolding in Europe, shrugged and said, "Well, they chose to leave." I can accept that adults might choose where to live, but under no amount of tortured logic can children be held responsible. They are truly innocents, and their innocence is being stolen from them. They will never get those childhoods back.
I need to reckon with the fact that all of this is unfolding on the other side of a world I inhabit. Join me.
Meanwhile, here's what you weren't doing. You weren't slogging across Hungary, trying to evade a razor-wire boundary with Serbia, in the rain, pushing your child onto a train. You weren't coming to grips with the fact that the new refugee camp you live in might become your permanent home, and that you might never go back to life as it was.
A news report I saw this week showed what a lot of refugees who had set out from Turkey were doing the moment they reached the Greek island of Lesbos: they were pulling out their cell phones, texting friends and relatives back where they came from, that they were safe.
Texting relatives? The imagery seems a little bit out of place. Aren't refugees poor, and desperate, and homeless? Aren't they dirty, and sick, and hungry? They are all of those things, at times, but the reality is more complex. The images of them pulling out smart phones jarred me, because it underscored for me something that's been hard to get my mind around: they're not that different from me and you.
That's one piece of a larger mosaic of disbelief in my mind that's been forming. Since I heard about the beheading of Iraqi and Syrian Christians, I was at the same time drawn to the story, and distanced from it. Again and again, as I have plodded through first-world daily concerns, I have struggled to reconcile the fact that we and they live in the same world. The brutality reported seems almost medieval. But it's not. It's today. Young girls being raped as prizes of conquest. Teenage boys and men being marched off and systematically executed. Christians being compelled to renounce their faith as they stare down the barrel of a rifle.
And now...In other news, Apple debuted the iPhone 6s today.
How is this happening, all in the same world? How is it REALLY happening? For some reason, Afghanistan seemed a world away. Iraq and Syria did, too - until recent images of refugees fleeing border police and storming trains in Europe caught my attention, suggesting as they do that this is coming closer and closer to our doorstep (and shame on me that it took this long ).
Is this "count your blessings" blog post? Maybe. But it's more. It's a call for us to consider that this isn't happening over there...but in our world, today. That thought blows my mind. If we wait to care until the "problem" hits our own shores and truly inconveniences us, we won't be objective about it. I won't be.
In light of the fact that these are fellow human beings, made in the image of God, what does God expect of me? I honestly don't know. But I do know this: deliberate ignorance isn't an option. I know that in the last 4 years, while I have gotten married, finished seminary, and taken on a new role at my church, Syria and the region around it has been descending into hell. And I know that Jesus entered humanity and suffered with them, as surely as he suffered with us.
Pray for the children. It may sound trite, but war is hugely disrupting to a nation. Think of all the social institutions you rely on now, when your kids are young, that help outfit them for the future: schools, clinics, parks, rec programs, churches. Now imagine them closing for four years. What would you do? How easily could you arrange alternatives, especially if at the same time you were displaced from your home, having to find work, shelter, and daily food?
Remember the desperate situation of people during Hurricane Katrina? Remember what they were called? That's right - refugees. And some lost their homes, but rebuilt. Even after 10 years, things are not "normal" in New Orleans.
And that was water. Syria is war. There is ongoing destruction and displacement. Once it ends, it will take years to resume "normal".
I know some people have looked at what's unfolding in Europe, shrugged and said, "Well, they chose to leave." I can accept that adults might choose where to live, but under no amount of tortured logic can children be held responsible. They are truly innocents, and their innocence is being stolen from them. They will never get those childhoods back.
I need to reckon with the fact that all of this is unfolding on the other side of a world I inhabit. Join me.
Wednesday, September 9, 2015
Sports are Faster than Life
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Sports are faster than life. A three-month season is an epic journey of victories and losses, and ultimate growth. Through practice and play there are more teaching opportunities per minute in a sporting arena than nearly any other venue. . . . if framed properly.
If the first Cooper impossibly got a hit, the other would surely strike out. First pitch: he swings at a pitch in the dirt. Josh couldn’t take it. Miraculously the next pitch was a ball. On the next wind-up Josh takes off for home while his dad—coaching at third—just about has apoplexy that his son is stealing without getting a signal. Jordan sees what Josh is doing and takes off for second. The catcher is rattled and bobbles the ball. Josh slides safe and the catcher overthrows to third while Jordan rounds the base in full sprint. The stands erupt as defeated fans could feel the rising victory.
When the brick dust settles Josh is beaming, Jordan is dancing and the Cooper twins are just incredibly relieved. On the ride to the end-of-season party Josh’s dad doesn’t know whether to admonish his son for not obeying the signal or praise him for thinking so fast. The Coopers' mom doesn’t know whether to talk about unexpected help or just be quiet.
********
Not only do we jump and exult when our child makes an interception or groan when they don’t make that save, we do it collectively with other parents in the stands. We share sunscreen, umbrellas, and carpools together right alongside laughter and tears. We connect deeply and then drive home with exuberant or anguished kids.
If we take the time to hit the slow-mo button on one season of sport we can use these opportunities to intentionally disciple our children or reach out to our bleacher neighbors. But we do have to stop, think and pray before we can turn from being focused on ourselves, our child—who we can often look at as a mere extension of ourselves—and our team.
It is a Biblical principle that the natural comes first and then the spiritual. If we don’t purposely have a strategy we can harm our children more than help. And worse, we can be that angry parent in the bleachers. The natural anger, ego and envy in us will come out. With awareness and strategy, however, we can demonstrate and inculcate the spiritual fruit of peace, kindness and self-control.
On Friday night, September 11, from 6:30-8:30pm in the Family Center, the Sports Ministry of NCCC will bring parents together to stop, think, and strategize how to disciple our children in a season of sport and how to be the light of Christ in the bleachers. Sports is faster than life.
Guest Post by Wendy Hinman
Sports are faster than life. A three-month season is an epic journey of victories and losses, and ultimate growth. Through practice and play there are more teaching opportunities per minute in a sporting arena than nearly any other venue. . . . if framed properly.
--Christopher M. Schrader, PhD
Beyond A Whistle And A Prayer
The Cooper twins
always struck out. They batted 8th and 9th in the order,
and here it was the Carlsbad Youth Baseball World Series with two on and two
out in the bottom of the 9th and the Cooper twins were up. Josh, the
coach’s son, was on third and Jordan, a speedster, was on first.
If the first Cooper impossibly got a hit, the other would surely strike out. First pitch: he swings at a pitch in the dirt. Josh couldn’t take it. Miraculously the next pitch was a ball. On the next wind-up Josh takes off for home while his dad—coaching at third—just about has apoplexy that his son is stealing without getting a signal. Jordan sees what Josh is doing and takes off for second. The catcher is rattled and bobbles the ball. Josh slides safe and the catcher overthrows to third while Jordan rounds the base in full sprint. The stands erupt as defeated fans could feel the rising victory.
When the brick dust settles Josh is beaming, Jordan is dancing and the Cooper twins are just incredibly relieved. On the ride to the end-of-season party Josh’s dad doesn’t know whether to admonish his son for not obeying the signal or praise him for thinking so fast. The Coopers' mom doesn’t know whether to talk about unexpected help or just be quiet.
********
We sense these opportunities intuitively as
parents when our child starts playing organized soccer or makes the surf team.
We just don’t always know how to harness the teachable moments coming at us. They
all seem to mean something, but it’s hard to process before the next pitch.
Not only do we jump and exult when our child makes an interception or groan when they don’t make that save, we do it collectively with other parents in the stands. We share sunscreen, umbrellas, and carpools together right alongside laughter and tears. We connect deeply and then drive home with exuberant or anguished kids.
If we take the time to hit the slow-mo button on one season of sport we can use these opportunities to intentionally disciple our children or reach out to our bleacher neighbors. But we do have to stop, think and pray before we can turn from being focused on ourselves, our child—who we can often look at as a mere extension of ourselves—and our team.
It is a Biblical principle that the natural comes first and then the spiritual. If we don’t purposely have a strategy we can harm our children more than help. And worse, we can be that angry parent in the bleachers. The natural anger, ego and envy in us will come out. With awareness and strategy, however, we can demonstrate and inculcate the spiritual fruit of peace, kindness and self-control.
On Friday night, September 11, from 6:30-8:30pm in the Family Center, the Sports Ministry of NCCC will bring parents together to stop, think, and strategize how to disciple our children in a season of sport and how to be the light of Christ in the bleachers. Sports is faster than life.
Sign up for this free event at
www.wholelifesports.org
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