Because Girlfriends Care, so do kids

One of the most common questions I get from parents regards how to get their kids to serve. The benefits of serving others are undeniable. At the very least, you walk away feeling fortunate to have what you have. But how do we build that into kids, whose worlds are so small?

I'm not a big fan of schools compelling volunteer service hours as a condition of graduation, for a number of reasons. Chief among them is the obvious: if they have to do it, it's not volunteer. And when we do anything because we have to do it, it changes the way we approach the work. I also don’t like the negative assumption buried in the requirement, which is that given a choice, students won’t help out. To the contrary, helping others has become somewhat en vogue. Kids and teenagers have done great things on behalf of others, like this and this and this. Maybe we just needed to ask.

But another reason kids and teenagers don’t serve is that they don’t know what opportunities are out there. I’m an adult, and I’m still sometimes shocked about the level of need and the kinds of need that are here, right on our doorstep in North County.

A number of years ago, a group of moms who’d formed a Bible study decided they didn’t want to just sit around and talk each week – they wanted to take action. This was the start of what is now a 501(c)3 organization called “Girlfriends Care”. Naturally, they brought their kids along on these service projects, and Girlfriends Care quickly spawned Kidz Care, too. Ellen Clark has been quietly organizing service opportunities for the last several years, and will e-mail me from time to time about their latest project.

There’s so much I admire, not just about what this group is doing, but in the way they’re going about it. First of all, the opportunities to help are many, and varied. People have different giftings, and some enjoy helping in one way but not others. Secondly, they steer away from guilt in motivating people. As Ellen says in her latest e-mail: “GFC was founded on the principles of no-guilt and supporting busy people like you in balancing their lives as they find ways to give unto others.  Always an opportunity, never an obligation.”

The third reason I like what they’re doing is that they’re flexible. As the kids involved have grown older, they’ve recognized that the kids (now teenagers) need different opportunities. I think too often in the church we insist that youth continue to conform to the structures we’ve built, rather than recognizing that the face fo their institutions will be different – and that’s ok. To this end, Girlfriends Care has invited 13 other community service organizations to come out to an event this Saturday and set up booths, in hopes of finding willing volunteers to meet their needs.

This effort is genuinely unselfish, and as I said, there’s no guilt involved. You could bring your kids to one event, or many. But the fourth reason I like Girlfriends Care’s efforts is that it’s the heart of the organizers to be serving alongside kids in whatever they do. So they don’t ask kids to get their hands dirty or to give their time without being willing to do the same themselves. This is probably the most effective way to encourage hearts of compassion: to be the change we want to see.

Feelings aren’t contagious; guilt and compulsion only appear to work. If we really want our kids to care, it starts with them being aware that there are needs at all. Do your kids know there are homeless children and teens in San Diego County? Are they aware of what Bread of Life does? Have they heard the words, “Human Trafficking,” and know that slavery isn’t just a Civil War-era relic?

It’s not that kids don’t care. Kids care about all kinds of things. But we don’t tend to care about things we don’t think about. It’s too easy to bury things that are troubling or inconvenient. To draw them past the line of apathy means that we, ourselves, need to be where those needs are.

Website for GirlfriendsCare (site is being rebuilt as of 9/1/12)

Website for Kidz Care &Teens Care They keep a calendar of events as well as descriptions of ongoing projects here: book drives, food drives, clothing drives, etc.

Girlfriends Care Luncheon: This Saturday, September 7, 11-1:30 in downtown Carlsbad. See details here. Includes booths from 15 exhibitors. The event is designed to help potential volunteers find places where they might want to serve. Kids, men, teenagers are welcome – it’s not just an event for women.

They Bought a Zoo

I’m not often bored. When I am, it’s because circumstances have usually conspired against me, keeping me from doing what I really want to be doing. Such is the case when I travel, which I have during the last three weeks, and the amusements of book and laptop reach their limit.

My arduous, 46-hour journey back from the Far East by trains, planes, and automobiles landed me for a time in Singapore – which is not at all a bad place to be stuck. This is the Mall-of-America of airports, a vast expanse that includes kids’ indoor play structure, reclining seats for napping, and yes, even its own movie theater, which constantly screens recent releases, free-of-charge.

After exhausting my computer’s battery nearly to zero, I wandered into the theater and the beginning of the movie, We Bought a Zoo. This is not a film I would have otherwise made a point to see, having pretty much outgrown movies about kids and animals.

Let me recommend it highly. It’s not so much a “family movie” (although it might be, depending on your own tolerance level for profanity in the movies you let your kids see) as it is a realistic movie about families. And those are hard to come by. Most films with families in them use at least one character as a comic foil, or they grossly distort the characterization to make the point that these are really clueless parents or really disrespectful teenagers or really hapless elders. The family members’ characters move the story along or just allow us to laugh.

But in We Bought a Zoo, the characters are the story. Benjamin Mee’s (Matt Damon) wife has died, and it’s time for a new start for him, his seven-year-old daughter and his 14-year-old son. I almost wrote precocious daughter and his mopey son, but I caught myself – the characters are more than one-dimensional, and that’s what makes this film work. You see the dad’s impulsive, reckless side (he bought a zoo, after all) played off against the wise caution of his accountant older brother. But then you also see his tenderness, as when he “catches Mom’s spirit” with daughter Rosie; his emotional transparency, as when he confesses to Kelly (Scarlett Johansson) that he “cannot let go” of his wife; and his desperation, as he tries in vain to get inside his son Dylan’s head in order to help him.

This is a family that is grieving, and grief doesn’t play well in movies – it’s too gloomy. It would have been too easy for Benjamin and Kelly to strike up a relationship early on and had the whole movie been about the power of focusing on the positive (like raising tigers!). But we don’t just “get over” grief; the experience becomes a part of who we are. And we get to watch that integration process unfold over two hours.

It plays out most vividly in the relationship between father and son. Here it would have been easy for the movie to cut corners and portray Dylan as a young adolescent pain-in-the-butt who just needs to stop feeling sorry for himself. Damon’s character does say that (shout that, in fact) to his son at one point, but unlike most movies, where an eloquent tell-you-off is all it takes to set things straight, it’s more complicated here – just as in real life. We see the steps Benjamin has to take – not just the words, but the actions – in order to pry open the door to his son’s world so that he can meaningfully help him grieve. And Dylan is grieving. Where Rosie will talk about it openly – “I miss Mommy” – the son’s pain is expressed more obliquely – “I hate it here! I miss my friends!” Bravo to the film for getting that contrast right, but also for letting us see enough of Dylan that we didn’t resent his attitude, as when we see him fall asleep at night clutching a framed photograph of his mom, or eavesdropping on the bedtime conversation between his dad and sister. We understand that he shares the sentiment, but the form won’t work for him.

Damon’s character is believable because he isn’t perfect. Although he’s frustrated, he keeps himself from assuming that Dylan’s behavior is all about him. He keeps his head – save the one time he blows his top: “You just sit here and feel sorry for yourself, man! Help me with your sister. Help me!” to which his son replies, “Help me, dammit! Help me!” I hope his character can be an encouragement to parents who struggle to stay connected with a son or daughter, and they can’t pinpoint why. Sadness runs deep, and doesn’t always show up in tears. It can be masked by anger, perfectionism, narcissism, impulsivity and busyness – because all of these are distractions from the loneliness and the emptiness that lies beneath the surface. Dylan’s sadness is one clue as to why moving to new surroundings so soon after the death of his mom was unwelcome: without the familiar distractions of city life, there was little else to do but reflect on what was lost.

Parents, see We Bought a Zoo – not because taking over a wild animal park is a good way to solve your problems, but because the movie illustrates just the opposite: the zoo helps in the short term, but ultimately preoccupation is not the healer. Time and process are. Watch it with your kids, if you think they can handle it. Plugged In Online criticized it for too much foul language and gratuitous alcohol use. Personally, I think Plugged In, while authoritative and detailed, atomizes movies too much without regard for the context or message. (I mean, is it realistic that a hodge-podge group of oddball zookeepers and assistant zookeepers might drink beer with each other at the end of the day? I think so.) The movie could open up a rich discussion about how your family has dealt with grief and loss, and about communication between parents and kids (Why is it easier for Benjamin to talk to his seven-year-old daughter than to his teenage son?).

Zoo is a winner in my book. It succeeds in not flattening family members into caricatures, nor in letting cute, funny animals distract us from the human drama – which is really what this movie is about. In the closing scene, one of the zoo employees is gazing admiringly at both the menagerie of creatures at the newly-reopened park and at Mee’s healing-but-not-yet-healed family. She asks Kelly, “If you had to choose between people and animals, really quick, how would you choose?”

Before Kelly can answer, the girl reads her expression: “Me too. People.” Exactly.

A Loss that's Almost Too Much to Bear

Last week in North County, we lost a champion. It’s really the world’s loss, though, because those who never knew George Trillizio missed knowing a gem of a guy.

To unpack those two descriptors, let’s begin by noting that it’s probable many people who knew George never knew him by that name. To the thousands of high school students and young Marine recruits whom he pastored during a 32-year ministry career (many of whom grew into adults who still looked to him affectionately as their pastor) he was “Bear.”

Bear was a champion in the normal sense of the word – as a powerlifter – but in another sense as well. In ancient warfare, a “champion” duel was sometimes used to determine the outcome of a battle while minimizing bloodshed. Each side would put forward their best man, and the winner secured victory for the whole army. (David and Goliath was a matchup between champions.) Bear was that best man. You wanted him on your side, in everything: praying for you, encouraging you, and – quite literally – protecting you. It was probably that Marine instinct in him that he never abandoned an ally.

How many people did Bear know? The number is uncountable. What seems certain, though, is that he knew nearly everyone who knew him. Unlike some people who develop a following but remain personally unknown, Bear seemed to have built his following one by one, on the strength of his love for people. Don’t let the gruff voice or the powerful build fool you: he had some of the best people skills – because he had the softest heart. When you talked with Bear, he had a way of making you feel like you were the most important person, like your problem was the most important one at that moment, that your joke was the funniest, your song was the greatest, your ministry effort the most amazing thing…and he wasn’t just indulging you, wasn’t blowing smoke. If he was, he was the greatest undiscovered actor in the world. No, Bear's interest was always sincere.

Yes, he had the best people skills...and then – sometimes he didn’t. He could be crass, irreverent and utterly hilarious. And we loved him for it. He could put someone in their place if that was needed. Things might come out of his mouth that you wouldn’t consider very “pastor-like." He didn’t care. While many in ministry struggle with a public persona that doesn’t reflect who they really are, Bear was 100% himself, always. Who else could he be?

And he was a gem. And by that I mean that he was simultaneously earthy and lustrous, the proverbial diamond-in-the-rough. He carried an everyman sensibility and an otherworldly awe around in him, with no apparent contradiction. Jesus was his thing. He believed in Him deeply. And his conviction combined with his personality was a reassurance to those of us who suspected and hoped that Christianity meant something different than just having good manners and being passive. You met Bear and you knew it was possible both to be a man and to love Jesus.

In my case, his reputation preceded him. When I landed in California in 2005, for no apparent reason, with no apparent plan, and at North Coast Calvary Chapel almost by chance, I was told: “Ask for Bear.” Sometime around September, wrestling with troubling uncertainty about my future, I walked up to him at a Sunday night service and said: “I need to talk to someone, and I feel like it’s you.” Bear counseled me to stay put; that was the beginning of a six-year friendship from which I now feel like I drew all the benefit.

When I visited him at the hospital, I couldn’t avoid thinking about what his death would mean, for himself and for his family and the legions of admirers he would leave behind. For him, it meant the end (though too soon) of a life well-lived. It meant he would step into heaven, realizing in full the eternal life that had begun in him when Bear became a Christian more than 30 years ago.

But if death has meaning, then life has to have meaning, too. Bear probably would summarized it in some memorable, pithy three-word phrase. Which three words, I can only guess. I’m not as succinct, so I’ll suggest several candidates, based on what I know of his life – all of which were clearly evident: Family. Loyalty. Faith. Sacrifice. Service. Strength. Youth. Compassion. Love.

I will miss seeing him in the familiar places – at Wednesday staff meetings, backstage on Sunday nights. I’ll miss hearing that voice. This past weekend, I half-expected to see him lumbering across the plaza. I felt empty when that didn’t happen. I startled a couple of times when I glimpsed people with a similar build.

Most of all, though, I’ll miss him because Bear was my go-to guy. I realize I’m among many who would say this, but I felt like Bear was one of the few people who really got me. When I was near the boiling point, or someone had really rubbed a nerve raw, or I had reached my last straw, it was Bear who I'd seek out. Not because he’d salve the wounds always; sometimes, he’d be very direct in setting you straight on faulty thinking. He always seemed to know the right thing to say. If Bear was quick with advice, it’s because he’d seen it all. (Thirty-two years of dealing with teenagers and young adults and every relationship scenario imaginable will do that.) And even apart from the crisis times, he was simply fun to be around. You never felt like you had to impress him. He genuinely thought your song, your program, your thing was totally great. And he let you know it.

Yes, Bear is in heaven. Somehow that doesn’t make me miss him less. Life will grind on, even if right now it seems appropriate that it might stop for a while in honor of a guy who lived a life that was all about everyone but himself. I’m sure I’ll meet others in the course of ministry who affect me as profoundly. I hope so.

But for now, I need to talk to someone. Bear, I feel like it’s you.

(No) Surprise: Kids Need Time for Free Play

What can parents and other caring adults do to promote social development in kids and ensure their future health and well-being? Those of us who work with kids spend hours considering this question. But the answer may be simple: quit trying, and let kids go play. As the saying goes, sometimes less is more.

Of course, it's not entirely as simple as that, but allowing kids to play freely is an important part of the equation. Sadly, it's also the element that's been crowded out as education reform and the uber-professionalization of youth sports have encroached on childhood. Free play - that is, activities that are freely chosen by kids and that have no time limits, no adult management, and whose starting and ending points depend solely on what a kid wants to do - stands in opposition to the way we've regimented kids' lives, all in the name of making things "better" for them by measuring and evaluating everything they do. This is progress?

The call for more free time for kids to play is not new. A Google search of "kids need free play" turned up articles from October 2006, January 2009, and October of 2010. And - get this - there's actually an organization called the "Alliance for Childhood", a major focus of which is advocating for kids' opportunity to have time to play. Really? There is actually a national organization whose mission is to see that your son or daughter be allowed to go outside and play tag? Yep - and the movement faces formidable opposition.

Not principled opposition, of course - what kind of Scrooge would actually come out and say that they were against kids getting to play together? The opposition instead rests in the very structure of kids' lives, and is rooted in the belief that compared to academics, music lessons, organized sports leagues, and club activities (and yes, even church activities can contribute), free time to simply play isn't that important.

The latest voice in the wilderness is a man named Peter Gray, a professor at Boston College, who's been studying the positive effects of play for years, but who recently garnered media attention for his paper linking the decline of free play with an increase in emotional and behavioral problems once kids grow up. Gray makes the case that when kids don't play, the skills of emotional regulation - how to get along, how to share, how to make decisions - don't get a workout. The eventual result is teenagers who have poor impulse control, underdeveloped social skills, and who suffer more anxiety and depression as a result. And Carlo Rotella, writing about Gray's research in the Boston Globe, points out that substituting adult-regulated activities doesn't cut it:

"The 'free' part matters. There's a deceptively big difference between being told by and adult to get in line to take your turn on the slide and learning from interaction with other kids, through trial and error and conflict and cooperation, that it's not OK to hog the slide."

I'll never forget when I substitute taught in a kindergarten classroom, and the lead teacher was guiding the kids through an art project. At one point, she demanded that all the kids fix their eyes on her, because "I'm going to show you how to make a spider." These were five year olds drawing. She no doubt thought she was helping. She wasn't. Little wonder that as I circulated through the room and suggested to a boy that he could draw a woman in a skirt, he looked at me and said, "I don't know how." What he was really saying was, "I don't want to get it wrong...so I'd rather not try."

Art projects aren't exactly free play (because they are solitary pursuits, not requiring the skills of interaction), but the point is that one thing preventing kids from doing their own thing is our fear that they might get it wrong. Put yourself in the shoes of an adult witnessing the dispute over the slide that Rotella describes above. If you saw one child budging the line, or stopping midway down the slide, or climbing up the wrong way so others couldn't take their turn, would you intervene, or let kids work it out? I'll admit it would be hard not to mediate, to think that they need my help in solving the problem, because what if they do it wrong? And what if there's a fight? And what if someone's feelings are hurt in the fight? To stay out of it is to risk that kids might not resolve things - at least not right away. Kid justice can be brutal.

Another factor keeping kids from interacting is that they have no place to play. Two of the greatest parental fears - that their child will be kidnapped or that they will be hit by a car - work against kids being able to be outside. Today's parenting generation grew up in the days of some high-profile abductions (like Adam Walsh and Polly Klaas) and were taught in schools (even in my midwestern hometown of 7,000) to fear strangers. Despite the fact that the probability of a child being kidnapped is quite low (about 1 in 347,000; there are between 100-150 stranger abductions in the U.S. each year, nowhere near a million a year, which was what we were told in the 1980s), that's no comfort to the family it does happen to. And with every missing child story now receiving national attention on cable news, it makes us all think: It could be us.

And there are other reasons kids don't play. Lack of time is certainly one. We're more mobile, which allows us to "spread out" our lives - but that also results in moms and dads spending hours each week toting kids from one scheduled activity to the next. Time spent consuming screen media also gobbles up time kids could be playing together. (I think it remains to be seen whether "social" media actually enhances kids' sociability or not. Part of me admires its ability to put people in touch with each other. And what are we doing online? We're communicating - which isn't all bad.) And schools have changed. Not only do they assign more homework, but things like recess and physical education have been pared back, and the teaching itself is different - more directed, more teacher-centered, and very outcomes-oriented.

You could make the argument, of course, that it's outcomes that matter most, and therefore there's nothing wrong with teaching kids how to hit a baseball (by enrolling them in a league), or how to do math (by hiring a private tutor), or how to play the guitar (at $50 a lesson). And there is nothing wrong with those things. Except to remember that the outcomes kids care about often relate to things adults find trivial. When I was 10, we spent a lot of time dreaming up improvements to my friend's fort in the loft of his garage, or pursuing ever-better "jumps" on our dirtbikes, or figuring out really clever places to hide when we played kick the can. Today those things matter nothing to me - I've got bigger fish to fry - but maybe there was something in the process of doing those things that mattered far more than the final product.

In the end, granting kids more freedom to play isn't an easy matter. We didn't get here because of some stated ideology that kids shouldn't play. We got here by building a society that believes in outcomes and status more than we do the intrinsic value of being a kid. Can you imagine getting out of bed and spending an entire day playing? I can't. But they can. And the adult priorities and responsibilities that keep us from living in that world will soon enough creep into their lives, pulling them away from a time in life they'll never recapture. Part of our job is to help them enjoy and embrace these years, which are some of the best of their life - they just don't know it. And, unbelievably, it appears one of the best things we can do is to leave them alone, to play.

Can Kids Outgrow God?

During the last six years of overseeing 4th-6th grade ministry at NCCC, I’ve had the parallel experience of watching my nieces and nephews grow up from babies to preschool and elementary school-aged children. Through holiday visits, Skype, Facebook, and home videos I have been able to glimpse pieces of their faith development, and it’s been fascinating. I’ve observed prayers, Sunday school programs and songs, heard some Bible stories retold, and picked up some nuggets that reflect their young understanding of God’s big world and their place in it.

At the same time, I've witnessed each developmental stage and phase, and laughed with the rest of my family as the kids move from one obsession to the next. Blue, Dora, The Wiggles, Elmo, Spiderman, cowboys, and the Disney princesses have all had their day. But soon, each is eclipsed by the next favorite thing, and the old hero gets passed down to the next-youngest sibling. At their houses, Santa Claus is still alive and well at Christmas time. But this won’t last forever.

My hope, of course, is that their curiosity, interest, and affinity for God as they grow up will never go the way of Elmo. And that is my hope for your kid as well. It’s worth asking the question: Can kids outgrow God? Can he lose his currency, becoming yesterday’s news, just at the time when kids begin facing questions like, “Who am I?” and “What was I created for?” and “What am I worth?” Too many adults attempt to answer those questions with the very author of life shunted to the sidelines.

We dare not let that happen.

Does God live in storybooks?
I am a fan of Bible storybooks for young kids. Our family had one, and I still can recall “what Adam and Eve looked like,” and the fierceness of God’s wrath represented by a red sky, and the wily Jacob fooling his father into thinking he was Esau. Of course, those weren’t true pictures, but some artist’s rendering. But to me, they were “real." Young kids, being concrete thinkers, receive and store those early impressions and images for a long, long time. (When I was four, I thought our pastor and God were one and the same - probably the reason I still, without thinking, picture God having a red beard and not a gray one.) The downside to cartoonish representations, though, is that they can lead kids to believe that “Bible stories” and
“Bible characters” were fictional. This is a symptom of a larger phenomenon that kids face as they grow. Bible storybooks are not the problem (not even a problem).

The issue is this: are kids’ conceptions of God allowed and encouraged to grow as they do?

We – the churches that serve them and the families that raise them – hold the key to the answer. To the extent that we “create” their understanding of God by the stories we tell, the symbols we use, the holidays we celebrate, and the way we worship (and countless other ways), kids’ knowledge of God is largely dependent on us. I do not deny that young children think thoughts about God completely on their own, nor that they can enjoy an unmediated relationship with him without any help from us. But that relationship does not exist in a vacuum. It is always culturally conditioned by the expressed thoughts and attitudes of the adults (that is, the authority figures) who run their world.

And so, we are responsible, not only for creating a picture of God that is true in their minds as young children, but also for continuing to refine and update kids’ views of God as they grow. If we are diligent about giving them Jesus when they are young, but then back off as they grow older, we run the risk that as kids grow up, they’ll consider God “kiddie stuff”, a relic from early childhood.

We dare not let that happen.

A different approach
As a kid becomes a preteen (and there’s no defining criteria for that), their ability to think and reason abstractly will blossom. As it does, they reach a junction in the development of personal faith. The question usually takes a form like, “Is God really real?” but what they’re actually asking is “Is God relevant?” As the serpent tempted Eve – “Did God really say you must not eat from any tree?” – kids also want to know whether God belongs only to the simple world they’re growing out of, or if he has a place in the more complicated world of the future? And if so, what is it?

About this same time, kids come to realize that parents and other adults aren’t perfect, that grown-ups break promises, aren’t superhuman, and actually get away with doing a fair number of the things they tell their kids not to do. What does this knowledge do to a kid’s faith, when up until that time, the adults in their lives have been the embodiment of qualities like power and might and authority and love and right – all of the same attributes that are ascribed to God? It’s common and almost unavoidable for a young child to perceive of God as a human. The concept of God being beyond human – that he is spiritual and eternal and holy? That’s a new one for older kids to make sense of.

And here’s another change: older kids exercise more leadership over their own lives. Young children make very few meaningful decisions for themselves. But older elementary kids get much greater latitude to decide who they’ll be and how they’ll act and how they’ll spend their time. And this is good – it is the birth of autonomy, which will someday lead them into life as an adult, no longer dependent on parental oversight. (Some preteen ministry colleagues of mine refer to this necessary stage as “Letting Go of the Bike.”) But, one of the skills needed to handle autonomy is the ability to discern good leaders from bad leaders. “Who should I follow?” is a key developmental step – it is the art of self-leadership. Older kids and adolescents are bombarded with cues about “how to be”: social cues, academic cues, family cues, cultural cues, internal emotional cues. It’s bewildering. Obeying God is suddenly no longer as simple as just obeying Mom and Dad.

I believe that to minister (literally, to serve or to meet the needs of) this age group, we ought to encourage and allow kids to bring God out of the box, out from the packaging he resided in when they were young children, and to meet, experience, relate, and walk with him in a new way. I don’t dismiss childhood faith; but neither do I rest on it. Young kids, for instance, say some pretty cute things about God. But what 10-year-old wants to be known for the cute things he used to say when he was five?

So, can kids outgrow God? In an actual sense, no. Of course God is big enough for all of our lives, and is always several steps ahead of us. But in a practical sense, yes. If we’re not diligent to push kids to grow in their faith – just as we would encourage them at this age to grow in athletic potential or grow in knowledge or grow in new experiences – then their faith will be immature as they grow right past it. I can’t help but think of a 9th grade boy I once led in a high school small group. We had just met, but it was evident he was attending youth group in body only. As he explained, “I figure I pretty much know everything there is to know about God.” How wrong he was, and how sadly his life unfolded in the years that followed, when he reached the point of his greatest need, yet God wasn’t even on the radar screen.

I don’t know what exactly brought him to the point where he thought he “pretty much knew everything there was to know about God,” but I suspect the culprit may have been one of the following:

• Church programs for kids that were boring
• Church programs that too closely resembled school
• Programming that mistook fervor (“Scream for Jesus!”) for spiritual depth
• Adults who talked too much and listened too little
• Music intended to glorify God but that was too childish to work
• Too-simple, pat answers to his questions

We will not let that happen! Growth is God’s intention for us. And growth implies change. An acorn is destined to become a shoot. A shoot is destined to become a baby oak. A young oak, while pleasing to the eye, is not meant to stop there, but to become a mighty, tall tree. In the same way, the Apostle Paul wrote, “When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me.” All kids want to grow up. (Yes, I know: if only we could convince them how great it is to be a kid!) We owe it to them to introduce and re-introduce them to the God who’s big enough for the future.

A Royal Myth

Quick question: If a couple lives together before they get married, does this increase or decrease the chance of later divorcing? If you said “increase”, you’re right: studies show that cohabitation does not ensure marital success, particularly if the reason for living together is to “test the waters” before marriage. Now, someone needs to tell Piers Morgan.

The CNN host, who took over Larry King’s timeslot, was interviewing actress Jane Seymour on the royal wedding of Wiliam and Kate last week when he made the observation that William’s parents were 13 years apart in age, and that because of Diana’s inexperience (read between the lines here), this doomed the relationship. Whereas, he continued, Kate and William faced a much brighter future because they’d lived together already. Times have changed, he observed, and this is for the better: William and Kate are protected from the buyer’s remorse that afflicted Williams’ dad.

It’s a nice theory for why Charles and Di didn’t work out, and it’s utterly false. That is, apart from that royal match that turned into a royal mess (and who will ever know precisely what went wrong?), cohabitation simply does not immunize couples against later difficulties in their marriage. The idea that “test driving” a relationship ensures a better marriage is a myth.

But it’s a persistent myth, in part because it’s easier to acquiesce to the culture than to be counter-cultural, and because beliefs help us organize our world. If we are determined to believe that humans are getting smarter and modernity is trending us toward greater happiness and peace, even in our relationships, then believing the myth of premarital cohabitation fits. As the thinking goes, of course it’s better for couples to live together before they get married – and that happens to be the way things are going anyhow.

We don’t believe them because they’re myths; we believe them because they work for us. And that’s unfortunate, because they cause us to buy into what will in fact make us less happy in our relationships.

Here are three other persistent myths that I think oppress families in their effort to raise mature, emotionally-socially-spiritually well adjusted kids:

“Parents and teenage kids are bound to be at odds.” This is another way of saying, “Parenting a teenager is war.” I wholeheartedly disagree, and the more families I meet where that isn’t the case, the more harmful I believe this myth is. Parents who buy it adopt a warlike stance, dreading their kids growing up (when they should be welcoming it and celebrating it) and expecting the worst from their kid because, after all, “teenagers are just a pain.” This line of reasoning has got to go. Kids – of all ages – need their parents. It’s just that as they get older, they need them in different ways. We intuitively grasp that preschoolers need not be parented as infants are, and that grade-schoolers can do more for themselves than when they were younger; why must burgeoning autonomy in the last part of childhood – adolescence – feared?

“Everyone is bound to rebel/Everyone will have a Prodigal Son experience.” Is this true? It certainly wouldn’t seem so from reading the New Testament, including the passage where that story appears. Luke 15 makes more of a statement about the Father – that his love will never be exhausted, that he rejoices when a sinner repents – than it does about us. And why would Paul and the other NT letter writers bother to exhort their recipients to grow, to persevere, to avoid sinful behavior, if straying from the Lord was the norm, even expected? That doesn’t wash, but this myth causes us to shrug when kids begin to make poor choices or surround themselves with bad influences. We can promote better alternatives for them, and we should believe the best in them. To do otherwise is a bad gamble.

“It’s really no big deal if kids leave the church after graduating high school – someday they’ll come back.” This one’s related to the previous one, but it’s demonstrably untrue. Those who walk away from their faith while in college – either because the seed was never planted while they were in our care or the plant never took root or because the world lured them away – are by and large not coming back to churches. Those who are usually do so after they’ve gotten married and had children. In the meantime, the critical formative years of late adolescence and early adulthood are shaped by the priorities and values of the secular world. Think of it: how many life-shaping decisions did you make between the ages of 18 and 28? And how many of those decisions would you have made differently if God had been in the picture? It won’t do for us to mortgage kids’ futures by adopting an “Eh,” stance when it comes to their spiritual growth. Being firmly rooted in the faith is an imperative for kids before they leave high school. No, we can’t force it and shouldn’t try. But if we’re not giving our best efforts to come alongside kids while we have the chance, we’re missing the golden opportunity.

The Apostle Paul didn’t shrug off the responsibility or urgency of nurturing those he’d led to Christ. To the church at Corinth, he wrote, “I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some,” to the Ephesians and the Colossians he urged, “Make the most of every opportunity.” You do not see him saying, “Now that you have Christ, I fully expect that you will abandon everything I’ve taught you, return to your former lives, and then maybe possibly come back to him in the end – so I’m not worried.” No – Paul believed that redemption was an all-consuming work and that growth and maturity should be expected.

What is our expectation when God is infused in the life of the family? The Bible teaches us to be realistic about humans’ potential – we are fallen and incomplete, after all – but not pessimistic. “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” When parents believe rebellion and abandoning faith is a sure stop on their kid’s life journey, and when churches ratify these myths, we are aiming too low – a royal whiff.

A Royal Myth

Quick question: If a couple lives together before they get married, does this increase or decrease the chance of later divorcing? If you said “increase”, you’re right: studies show that cohabitation does not ensure marital success, particularly if the reason for living together is to “test the waters” before marriage. Now, someone needs to tell Piers Morgan.

The CNN host, who took over Larry King’s timeslot, was interviewing actress Jane Seymour on the royal wedding of Wiliam and Kate last week when he made the observation that William’s parents were 13 years apart in age, and that because of Diana’s inexperience (read between the lines here), this doomed the relationship. Whereas, he continued, Kate and William faced a much brighter future because they’d lived together. Times have changed, he observed, and this is for the better: William and Kate are protected from the buyer’s remorse that afflicted Williams’ dad.

It’s a nice theory for why Charles and Di didn’t work out, and it’s utterly false. That is, apart from that royal match that turned into a royal mess (and who will ever know precisely what went wrong?), cohabitation simply does not immunize couples against later difficulties in their marriage. The idea that “test driving” a relationship ensures a better marriage is a myth.

But it’s a persistent myth, in part because it’s easier to acquiesce to the culture than to be counter-cultural, and because beliefs help us organize our world. If we are determined to believe that humans are getting smarter and modernity is trending us toward greater happiness and peace, even in our relationships, then believing the myth of premarital cohabitation fits. As the thinking goes, of course it’s better for couples to live together before they get married – and that happens to be the way things are going anyhow.

We don’t believe them because they’re myths; we believe them because they work for us. And that’s unfortunate, because they cause us to buy into what will in fact make us less happy in our relationships.

Here are three other persistent myths that I think oppress families in their effort to spiritually nurture kids:

“Parents and teenage kids are bound to be at odds.” This is another way of saying, “Parenting a teenager is war.” I wholeheartedly disagree, and the more families I meet where that isn’t the case, the more harmful I believe this myth is. Parents who buy it adopt a warlike stance, dreading their kids growing up (when they should be welcoming it and celebrating it) and expecting the worst from their kid because, after all, “teenagers are just a pain.” This line of reasoning has got to go. Kids – of all ages – need their parents. It’s just that as they get older, they need them in different ways. We intuitively grasp that preschoolers need not be parented as infants are, and that grade-schoolers can do more for themselves than when they were younger; why is burgeoning autonomy in the last part of childhood – adolescence – feared?

“Everyone is bound to rebel/Everyone will have a Prodigal Son experience.” Is this true? It certainly wouldn’t seem so from reading the New Testament, including the passage where that story appears. Luke 15 makes more of a statement about the Father – that his love will never be exhausted, that he rejoices when a sinner repents – than it does about us. And why would Paul and the other NT letter writers bother to exhort their recipients to grow, to persevere, to avoid sinful behavior, if straying from the Lord was the norm, even expected? That doesn’t wash, but this myth causes us to shrug when kids begin to make poor choices or surround themselves with bad influences. We can promote better alternatives for them, and we should believe the best in them. To do otherwise is a bad gamble.

“It’s really no big deal if kids leave the church after graduating high school – someday they’ll come back.” This one’s related to the previous one, but it’s demonstrably untrue. Those who walk away from their faith while in college – either because the seed was never planted while they were in our care or the plant never took root or because the world lured them away – are by and large not coming back to churches. Those who are usually do so after they’ve gotten married and had children. In the meantime, the critical formative years of late adolescence and early adulthood are shaped by the priorities and values of the secular world. Think of it: how many life-shaping decisions did you make between the ages of 18 and 28? And how many of those decisions would you have made differently if God had been in the picture? It won’t do for us to mortgage kids’ futures by adopting an “Eh,” stance when it comes to their spiritual growth. Being firmly rooted in the faith is an imperative for kids before they leave high school. No, we can’t force it and shouldn’t try. But if we’re not giving our best efforts to come alongside kids while we have the chance, we’re missing the golden opportunity.

The Apostle Paul didn’t shrug off the responsibility or urgency of nurturing those he’d led to Christ. To the church at Corinth, he wrote, “I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I might save some,” to the Ephesians and the Colossians he urged, “Make the most of every opportunity.” You do not see him saying, “Now that you have Christ, I fully expect that you will abandon everything I’ve taught you, return to your former lives, and then maybe possibly come back to him in the end – so I’m not worried.” No – Paul believed that redemption was an all-consuming work and that growth and maturity should be expected.

What is our expectation when God is infused in the life of the family? The Bible teaches us to be realistic about humans’ potential – we are fallen and incomplete, after all – but not pessimistic. “With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible.” When parents believe rebellion and faithlessness is a sure stop on their kid’s life journey, and when churches ratify these myths, we are aiming too low – a royal whiff.

Something New

Next weekend we begin piloting something new in 4th-6th grade: an automated check-in system. The benefits to you will ultimately be a streamlined check-in process. The benefits to us will be better tracking of kids' attendance - and a streamlined check-in process. Our hope is that sometime in the not-too-distant future, long check-in lines (for all ages) will be a thing of the past.

To get the system off the ground, we're asking for your help. For starters, anytime you implement a new system - especially if it's technology-based - there are bound to be hiccups. This system will rely on our computers, network, and printers running as they should. While there's no reason to believe they won't, tech problems have a way of surfacing at the 11th hour.

Secondly, the easiest way kids & families will access the check-in system is by entering their phone number. We can also look up kids by last name, but phone number is far faster. So - does your kid know your phone number?

And which number? Good question. The answer is, whichever number(s) we have on file for you. Depending on when you first registered your child (which could have been many years ago!), we may have a home phone, cell phone, or both listed for you. Not to worry - we will have lists of all the kids cross-referenced with the phone number we have on file. But ultimately, the phone number will be the quickest way to check-in.

In the beginning, anyhow. Well down the road our hope is to allow you to use a barcode, like you might at the library or the gym, to check-in. Before we get there, we need to iron out any wrinkles in the system as it is.

Here's what the "new" check-in system will look like (and remember, this is only being implemented in 4th-6th grade to begin with; a full children's ministry rollout is a few months away):

1. Kids will arrive and give the check-in volunteer the last seven digits of their phone number.

2. A screen for your family will pop-up, showing any kids in 4th-6th grade.

3. The check-in volunteer will click next to the name of the kids checking in, and -

4. At the same time, the printer will spit out a fully printed nametag, containing the kid's name, the age group, and their small group number.

And that's it! Quick and efficient, the program also creates electronic records for us, so we can look back at individual attendance records and patterns. Currently we have a team of volunteers who takes the paper check-in packets from the weekends and enters the attendance into our database by hand. Needless to say, we are eager to find a quicker way to do that.

Next weekend, the automated system will be set up for 4th-6th graders in the lobby outside our room. If kids forget to come upstairs, they can still do paper check-in downstairs. Beginning the weekend of March 19-20, we hope to have the system fully implemented & operational upstairs.

Again, your patience with us during a period of change is much appreciated. We know that this upgrade will be a great thing in the long run.

Is It All a Race to Nowhere?

If you've ever fought with your kid over homework, stressed about whether they'll get into a good college someday, or worried about the strain on one of your older children's health because of the demands of middle or high school, then you owe it to yourself to see a new documentary titled, "Race to Nowhere".

It remains to be seen if the film will become what it aims to be, which is a game-changer. Before that will happen, it needs to be a conversation starter. And it will give you a lot to think about.

Consider the following "nuggets" pulled from the film (I am quoting from some rough notes I took while watching it, so the transcription may not be exact):

• "Everybody talks about getting their kid into the best school. There is no "best school"; what you should be looking for is the best match."
• On college kids who had to check into stress clinics to recover from the performance stress at the end of academic terms: one college official cites parents who express shock - "How could this happen? They're a good kid." And he answers them, "No, they're a good performer. You never knew if they were a good kid."
• On communities that pride themselves on high test scores at schools: "Community is not about boasting that all is right with the world. Community is like being family; it's being yourself."

"Race to Nowhere" was produced by Vicki Abeles, a mom from Northern California who observed the toll performance pressure was taking on her kids. After her 12-year-old daughter was rushed to the hospital with stress-related illness, she began to investigate what exactly was happening in schools to stress kids out - and more importantly, to question whether it was all worth it.

One of the most heartbreaking parts of the film is when her 3rd grade son testifies to the headaches and stomachaches he feels when he's "stressed out". Um, excuse me? Third-graders should not be "stressed out" - ever. To feel stress is to be aware that someone else is holding performance expectations over you. That's inappropriate enough for a kid of that age, but "stressed out" implies that the pressure has gone on long enough that the target of the stress - the kid - is starting to break down.

The examples in the film get more grim from there. You meet a girl who discovered she could stay up later (and "get so much done") if she didn't eat. She developed anorexia. After a stint at a clinic, she returned to her school, only to be asked by the principal to leave: her weight loss was making other students and teachers worried about her.

It all leads up to the story of 13-year-old Devon Marvin. The 8th grade honor roll student from Danville took her own life when the pressure got to be too much. She was pushed over the edge by a bad grade on a math test.

But it isn't just the effects of stress on students that this film addresses. "Race to Nowhere" also sheds light on high-stakes testing, the college entrance game, the loss of teacher creativity and flexibility (because their jobs have been narrowed to test preparation), the use of drugs by students to stay alert and to relax, and the prevalence of cheating. It barely touches on the industry of SAT test prep, which uses old exams to teach kids "strategies" for gaming the test, turning what should be a measure of student academic potential into another crude and cynical exercise in outperforming an exam. Also alluded to is the dismal reality that vast numbers of high school students admitted to Cal State schools end up needing to take remedial courses. In other words, despite their high test scores and impressive GPAs, they really aren't as smart or proficient as those measures seem to indicate.

And - most importantly - they don't love to learn. School becomes just a joyless enterprise. As one boy in the film describes it, he crams as much information into his brain as he can in preparation for a test, and then, "Two hours later - it's gone." And this causes idealistic young teachers to either harden and accommodate to what the system demands of them, or quit. As a former teacher who got tired of chasing down missing assignments and giving grades, I could identify with the young female teacher interviewed in the film, who became so disgusted with the lack of real learning that was happening that she decided to resign.

It isn't hard to understand why it's gotten to this. Simple economics and demographics paint a grim picture: the Baby Boomers had kids, and there were lots of them. But colleges only have so much room, so competition builds. As the next kid achieves a 4.2 GPA on the strength of his two Advanced Placement courses, your kid suddenly needs a 4.3 and three AP's in order to maintain an advantage. Meanwhile, every parent is keenly aware of the kind of income their kid will need to have in order to have a better life than they do. (And what parent doesn't want that?) The film doesn't go so far as to question whether kids will forever be able to live more affluently than their parents, but it begs the question.

In the end, "Race to Nowhere" is a call to reevaluation and redefinition: what do we mean when we say someone is a "good student" who attends a "good school" with "good teachers"? What should "good grades" represent? But most importantly, what is it all for? The film isn't balanced - and that's the point. The subtitle of "Race to Nowhere" is "The Dark Side of America's Achievement Culture." Clearly, Director Abeles wants us to agree with her that all of this - the super-charged, achieve-at-any-cost, outperform-the-next-kid system that is American education - is damaging to kids and needs to be rethought.

The documentary is thought-provoking, but it stops just short of being compelling. Right now it is being screened at select showings across the country. Apparently a nationwide release is set for March, but the beauty of the early screenings has been that they are all sponsored by organizations which promise to facilitate dialogue sessions as part of the showing. The screening I attended was at Carrillo Elementary, and judging from parents' comments after the film, it was apparent that the movie struck a chord with most of them. But the overall thrust of the film, which is hinted at in the title, is muted and understated. So, for instance, our discussion group spent most of its time talking over whether kids should be given so much homework and pushed to be involved in after school clubs and sports. These are issues broached in the film, to be sure, but they are not the main point, which is that the seeds of over-achievement that are planted in elementary school end up leading...well, to nowhere.

And it is here that Christians should take note, first of all because some of us have unwittingly contributed to a high-stakes culture and not been counter-cultural enough, but also because "Race to Nowhere" can prompt some existential questions about, say, the purpose of life and the value of the mind and the importance of childhood and the meaning of "success". The film doesn't offer answers to any of those questions, from a Christian perspective or another other perspective, but if you take its message to its logical conclusion, those questions are where you end up.

Jesus said, "What good is it for you to gain the whole world, but lose or forfeit your soul?" We should still be asking that question today. And it shouldn't take dangerous threats to our kids' physical health, their self-concepts, and their sanity to get us there.

"Race to Nowhere" is currently showing at select screenings. An early December showing in Carlsbad sold out; another showing for January 6 has also sold out. But check www.racetonowhere.com/screenings for info on other scheduled screenings (for instance, Jan. 12 in Rancho Santa Fe; the film has also been shown in San Diego and Orange County), which continue to be added.

Families Matter

Why hold a FallLaunch for parents on maximizing spiritual influence? Why offer a PG-13 class, equipping parents to guide a young adolescent? Why teach a five-week overview of the Bible for parents & kids to take together?

Simply, because if we care about kids, we have to.

More precisely, if we take seriously the responsibility we've been given to lead kids to faith and through faith, we have to pay attention to the facts about relative influence. "Relative influence" doesn't refer to the fact that families have more influence than churches - but it could! Because in a study by Search Institute, when teenagers were asked who had most influenced the faith they had, "parents" was the #1 response - ahead of church programs, youth ministers, or peers.

That's something to think about. But we need to do more than just think about it. We - churches and parents - need to consider the implications. Here's the truth: church programming is probably better than it's ever been for children and youth. There is a ton of published material out there for groups of all sizes, addressing every topic under the sun. Five years ago the amount of curriculum and devotional materials specifically for preteens was pretty sparse. No longer. Churches and what we do are important. But we are not enough.

Consider: A kid who came to church every weekend and attended our midweek program every single week would have about 111 hours invested at the church each year. By contrast, they spend over 1,000 hours in school per year, and - ready? - about 4 hours watching TV and more than 7.5 hours using all forms of electronic media on a typical day (for kids 8-18, according to the Kaiser Family Foundation, 2010). So with packed schedules, how can parents possibly make a difference?

The answer is that parents set the context of a kid's whole life, and most importantly, they are the ones available when the opportunity for spiritual influence arises. One formal study of parent-child "God talks" found that discussion of spiritual matters was most likely to occur randomly, and not on the way to and from religious services or activities. It seems churches can do all they want to try to make spiritual dialogue happen inside their walls (and they sometimes succeed), but for the most part, kids will talk when they're good and ready! And those times tend to fall among the everyday experiences of life: in the car on the way to school, at mealtimes and bedtimes, while on vacation, during commercial breaks of TV shows, and so on. Families matter because parents are consistently there.

That's not to say that churches don't have a role. We have an important one. But it's wrong to think of kids as empty vessels, who will only think about the things we give them to think about and ask about the things we happen to be talking about. Kids' minds are always at work trying to make sense of the world they live in, and parents, by their proximity, are in perfect position to be the day-to-day leaders.

Imagine for a minute that you were going to tend to your kid's spiritual health the same way you tend to their physical health. What would that look like?

First, you'd recognize that kids are resilient. We don't have to be perfect in the way that we nurture, but we shouldn't be totally negligent, either. Somewhere between "whatever doesn't kill 'em, makes 'em stronger" and perfectionist parenting lies a happy medium, where we do our best with what we have and recognize that one person's efforts won't make or break a kid spiritually.

Still, that wouldn't keep you from bringing your child in for doctor's visits. It wouldn't stop you from giving your kid medicine and rest when they are sick. In the same way, we're right to expose kids to good church programming, to use the counseling and support group resources of a church when needed. It's good to make regular church attendance part of the routine of your family, and for your kid to become known by other kids and leaders.

But if you left the doctor's office and then returned to a steady diet of junk food, that'd be pretty counterproductive. Because you know and recognize that good health is in your hands, a product of the decisions you make day in and day out. You'd buy healthy foods and learn how to prepare healthy meals. You'd encourage your child to get adequate exercise, and rest. As best you could, you'd try to incorporate good health habits into the rhythm of your family's life. And you'd stay up on what promotes health, talking to others who care about what you care about, reading articles and books.

So it is with spiritual health. Our health - bodily and spiritually - depends on the decisions we make, which become habits. What are the habits parents should develop with their kids to promote a spiritually healthy family, and what's just a waste of time? How do we distinguish between spiritual growth and moral development? How do we get kids to want the things we want them to? In short, how do we nurture their hearts?

These questions are what we'll begin to tackle on Wednesday night at FallLaunch, a program which will be repeated in identical form on Sunday, September 19. We're buying dinner (lunch for the 19th) and we'll even care for your kids.

Everyone's time is limited. Let's spend it focusing on questions that matter, which ultimately are not "Which game should we play in class Sunday?" or "What's a new song the kids will like to sing?" The one that matters is, "Given the access and position a mom or dad holds, what can they do to really make a difference in nurturing faithful, faith-filled kids?"