It’s some of why I’ve been exploring lately–in posts like this one on living “sent, like missionaries who stay, and this one on having an “open house”–what it looks like to live as people set on fire in and for our communities. And after the heart-rending events in Manchester this week, we’re reminded again of the gaping need and pain in our communities. (In us, too.)read more
Yesterday was one of those days when I felt like I was walking against the wind so much of the day: straining uphill, my too-thin sweater tugged around me as I grimaced, head down. As my husband and I lifted down plates for dinner, I recounted the parts that made me want to tear my hair out. (Or maybe a small tuft of my children’s. …Joking.) In the course of things, I did remember some good points. Somehow, as I relayed them, they grew a little. I tucked my head with a smile.
He put his hands on my shoulder, leveled his hazel eyes with my blue ones. “I want you to know,” he said, “that you are incredibly blessed.”read more
In light of the series on Spiritual Disciplines for Real Families, I’m hoping this easy, often printable tools will help weave prayer into the fabric of your family.
If you love this kind of thing, try signing up in the right sidebar for the first chapter of Permanent Markers: Spiritual Life Skills to Write On Your Kids’ Hearts.It’s packed with ideas like this–and connects to more printable resources on this site to help you teach spiritual life skills!
This printable poster makes it easy for kids to learn to pray through their day with God. (If you’re new to this prayer, don’t let the name intimidate you! Here’s an introduction to this ancient, traditional, contemplative prayer.)read more
Last week, I heard from my sister in Thailand some of the heartbreaking moments they’ve been struggling through in their community of refugees. An 11-year-old girl sent to possibly “work” in Bangkok with her mother. A stabbing. A man depriving his family of enough money to buy food. And I thought, my kids and I should pray.
Then I thought of our prayers the last several weeks: Mostly stuff about…us.
Of course it’s good to teach our children to seek God for all their needs. But at that moment I thought, I want to up the ante on teaching my kids to cry out to God for other people.read more
Has God ever given you what you asked for—and then you wonder if you asked for the right thing in the first place? Have you ever felt punished…by prayer?
1.That they’ll be… miserable. Well, that is, if they’re caught up in sin. I know, I know…this messes with a bit of a sacred cow; our children’s happiness is culturally paramount. I remember my mom praying this for a wayward sister, who was horrified when she found out! But there’s merit in asking God that if our kids are trapped in a lifestyle that’s killing their souls, their minds and hearts would feel sin for the misery, pain, and poison it is, so they’ll yearn for relief. David himself acknowledged about his time tangled in secret sin that
when I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long. For day and night your hand was heavy upon me; my strength was dried up as by the heat of summer. Psalm 32:3-4read more
One of my children recently didn’t achieve the teacher recommendation they needed for another year on student council.
And I felt the tug-of-war in my innards. Part of me ached for the rejection they felt, particularly coming from a teacher who siblings confirmed was particularly difficult. I sought to turn off the ignition to my inner snowplow, shaking off the urge to appeal.
But words from a friend, maybe a decade ago now, bubbled to the surface of my brain. Can getting caught–or discipline itself–be a mercy?
Getting caught: A severe mercy
In my mind, the answer’s a resounding yes.read more
My daughter was highlighting my hair (yes, from a box. Yes, to cover the gray that’s laying siege to my scalp) when she told me about a friend who’s not sure if she identifies herself as a Christian anymore.
As when I hear about anyone who’s deconstructing faith, my chest tightened at the sternum. It’s painful for the person, and it’s painful for those who love them.
Someone pointed out that church hurt (in part the cause of this friend’s pain), and often deconstruction, typically results from emotional trauma.
So often, deconstruction happens because of what’s happening in our stories. Something has become more than we can process.
What gave me hope: My daughter was working hard to create emotional space for her friend to grieve. Feel angry. Ask questions.
And those are meaningful in part because in the past—and her present, though less so—my daughter’s needed the same.
Why a Child Deconstructing Faith Doesn’t Always Have to Freak You Out
Perhaps accelerated by my family’s return to America from the mission field and other difficult experiences we encountered here, three of my four kids at this point have needed to army-crawl through painful seasons in their faith.
I’ve hit my knees hard for each of them. And sometimes their questions have felt–do feel–threatening.
But there with my daughter, as I perched on a stool in my bathroom, I showed her this video from my friend Tony.
It encapsulates much of what I believe about deconstruction: It can be devastating, or it can be one of the best things that happen to them—or it can even be both.
In fact, what if we should all be deconstructing at some level?
I say this because deconstructing happens when something about our relationship with God or our faith paradigm collides with a part of real life that doesn’t fit–like a too-small pair of shoes you’re hobbling around in. Something’s gotta give.
For my kids, asking the right questions has formed a significant part of owning their faith as they come into young adulthood—coincidentally, another significant prayer request of mine.
(A missionary once told me that when his kids turned about 11, he realized how little control he had over them choosing God for themselves.)
I wouldn’t wish my kids’ pain on a snake. And no one wants a child deconstructing their faith. But like a butterfly from a chrysalis, they needed to acquire this faith-muscle on their own.
Why your kids need to ask the hard questions
To put a finer point on it—if my kids aren’t asking tough questions, I’m asking how deeply they’re interacting with their faith. They need a faith as robust as life’s most terrible crises, most searing nightmares, most harrowing ethical dilemmas.
And that’s not born. It’s forged. David, Job, and John the Baptist are just a few of the Bible’s deconstructionists.
Pastor and author Tim Keller observes about doubt,
A faith without some doubts is like a human body without any antibodies in it.
People who blithely go through life too busy or indifferent to ask hard questions about why they believe as they do will find themselves defenseless against either the experience of tragedy or the probing questions of a smart skeptic.
A person’s faith can collapse almost overnight if she has failed over the years to listen patiently to her own doubts, which should only be discarded after long reflection.
…Only if you struggle long and hard with objections to your faith will you be able to provide the grounds for your beliefs to skeptics, including yourself, that are plausible rather than ridiculous or offensive.
He points out that this process also makes us more compassionate and curious when someone else struggles with doubt.
What Not to Do When a Child is Deconstructing Faith
Having three kids who have walked through that gut-wrenching season—and having edited a few of the resources I’m suggesting below—I’ve gathered a few basic don’ts.
Try not to…
Freak out.
Instead, spend a lot of time in prayer for your kids. Prayer when a child is deconstructing faith is a valuable time for God to help me understand my kids’ hearts, the questions they’re asking, the reasons beneath their pain, the values generating friction with faith.
Luke 15 proved a vital passage to camp out on when my kids were asking tough questions. Tremendous wealth can be mined there about our “search-and-rescue God”, as Dr. Juli Slattery calls him.
One of my primary takeaways from the story of the prodigal son (vv. 11-32) is that the younger son’s heart as far from the father before he asked for the money and went to a “far country.” We can tell because of the disrespect he shows his dad just in asking: Let’s pretend you’re dead and I get my part of the money.
The father could have been like, “Hey, I know how this ends. Let’s just save my money and cut to the party. I’ll throw in a fattened calf and we’ll call it good!”
But the son needed to travel through the foreign land and eventually end up eating with the pigs, longing to be home with his dad. He needed to see his dad running from his lookout post, needed to feel his father exchanging the rags of a pig herder for the robe of a son.
It’s possible your child needs this dark season to develop a genuine love for and trust in God.
I was once told that someone’s hurt points to their heart, which becomes holy ground. Yes, there is definitely a place for apologetics or the right Bible verse, and sometimes it’s just the right time for truth and wisdom.
But in my limited opinion, part of the problem of the American church in the 90’s was our collective opinion that (misquoting Field of Dreams here), “If we speak truth, they will come.” We believed (a bit one-dimensionally), If people hear the truth, that’s what they need most.
Time and again—Zacchaeus, the woman at the well, lepers—I see Jesus asking questions and/or entering into people’s story first. He leads with love.
(Interestingly, Mary and Martha are both leading and struggling with faith when Jesus, on purpose, doesn’t show up before their brother dies. They ask the exact same question, but Jesus answers Martha with truth, Mary with shared tears.)
Our kids’ questions are often the result of deep pain. So maybe invite your child out to coffee, or to a place where you need to drive awhile, and can cultivate conversation.
Then reverently, intentionally make time to listen, listen, listen. Say, “Tell me more.” Ask questions. Seeking to truly understand may be of more value than snuffing out kids’ soul-questions.
Respond with platitudes or minimizing.
This may not be the time to roll out a chipper rendition of Romans 8:28.
When your child’s asking questions about faith, they may just be questions. Or they may be the tip of a significant iceberg. So first, you could ask:
How would you answer that question?
Would you feel comfortable telling me more about why you’re thinking about that?
How does that issue make you feel?
Freaking out? Try these resources instead.
Wanting alternative ideas for how to respond ? Check out these articles, downloads, and podcasts.
Christianity Today’s addictive limited podcast series The Rise and Fall of Mars Hill.Host Mike Cosper details the story of the birth and collapse of a megachurch in Seattle—but far more than this, elements baked into the culture of American Christianity that set our churches up for failure and alienation. If you’ve had difficult church or parachurch experiences, you might find this consoling and eye-opening, as I did. And ever-so-subtly, you might just find it an eye-opener about the current evangelical/political scenario.
The “messy middle” parts of your kids’ stories can be downright terrifying. Frankly, I’m glad my kids at this point have deconstructed while under my roof, where we can still perch on a couple of barstools in the kitchen, eye-to-eye. Where they can see the compassion my husband and I feel when days feel dark.
If your child is deconstructing faith, I’m praying for you as I type. Maybe, like my daughter, someday they’ll be the one midwifing a friend’s pain.
The dog licked me awake early this morning. Well, early for my slumbering house of teenagers house. And I stayed awake for the quiet.
As I type to you, snow layers the landscape out my window like fondant. I love its muting effect–on schedules, on sound. My life craves more quiet, for the love of Mike. And the end of the year always seems to hush my own soul into a more contemplative place.
The past 12 months are on my mind. What just happened? How am I different? How is my family different? What do I love? What do I hope to leave behind? How am I praying for next year?
What has God done in my family? For each of us and all of us, what does he long for?
Forget me not
In Joshua 4, the whole posse of Israel–an estimated 2 million, staggering for the time, and around the size of Greater Chicago–crossed the Jordan. And following moment, the one they waited 40 years for, Joshua stops them.
Take twelve stones from here out of the midst of the Jordan, from the very place where the priests’ feet stood firmly, and bring them over with you and lay them down in the place where you lodge tonight…
that this may be a sign among you. When your children ask in time to come, ‘What do those stones mean to you?’ then you shall tell them that the waters of the Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord … So these stones shall be to the people of Israel a memorial forever. (vv. 3, 6-7)
God knew the era of the Judges hovered around the corner: “here arose another generation after them who did not know the Lord or the work that he had done for Israel” (2:10).
I think God knows our human propensity toward amnesia. Toward forgetting.
So consider performing a yearly Examen–a form of the Prayer of Examen. (Here’s a daily, printable version for families.) Essentially, it helps think through where God has been in the past year–the ways you’ve felt consolation, experiencing God’s presence; the ways you’ve experienced desolation, or things that threatened to separate you.
Writing a year-end note to your child: 4 simple steps
My teenagers are a bit past the printable goal sheets, whether by age or their particular personalities. But this year, I decided I’d write them each a note on Christmas, tucking it in a place they’d find it.
My own hopes were these:
To express my love for them and the value of our relationship, wherever it’s at.
To witness what God’s been doing in them the last year, particularly the ways they inched toward maturity.
To call out ways I see them uniquely expressing God’s image.
To cheer them on in pursuing him.
Now, I’m a writer, so you could either think, “Man, it’s just easier for her,” or, “Hey, you do this for a living. Got tips?” Or both.
Don’t be scared, now
Don’t be intimidated by this. You could certainly type out a version of your note to your child and then handwrite it. (Handwriting, IMO, can be more meaningful and keepsake-worthy, but don’t let that keep you from writing one or making a typewritten one that’s better).
You could also limit yourself to a notecard. Anyone can write four sentences, right? Or, if you’re married, ask your spouse for help on what you might say. (Fair warning: An writers’ adage advises, “It’s easier to be long than short.”)
If your relationship feels a bit broken with your child, this is a chance to reach out to them in sincerity, and maybe even with an apology or repentance on your part.
If your child is young, you know how to talk with them in ways they understand.
Or if they’re very young, consider writing this to place in their baby book or photo album, where they can read it when they’re older.
So let’s break it down. Grab some quick tips to write a year-end note to your child that they might keep in their room, or their heart, for longer than you think.
Open your note to your child with what you value about your relationship. Consider referencing a few memories you made together.
For example–make it sound like you:
Wanted to make sure I let you know how much I’ve loved watching you grow this year.
From [reference memory 1] to [reference memory 2], we’ve laughed a lot and talked about a lot. And I’m so thankful for the ways we’ve…
Reflect the ways they’ve grown.
Hopefully it goes without saying, but avoid the underhanded insult or subtle homily–some version of You’ve really grown past your sarcasm, and [at last] listened to God about your potty mouth.
Question. How are you delighting in your child right now?
As I reflected in When It’s Hard to Enjoy Your Child, I remember a time as an adult when I felt misunderstood and alienated by the world at large. A photo of me with my mom reminded me I brought delight to someone when I felt like could give nothing.
We carry a unique position as their parents to express our delight in our kids. And there’s a certain extent to which God shows us delight isn’t always earned. That covenant love looks for delight when delight is hard.
When it comes to your note to your child, think about these:
What can I appreciate about how my child has changed–however small?
Moses asked God to show Moses his glory (Exodus 33:18). Ask God to show you how he’s been working in your child. If you’re struggling to appreciate or see any “fruit,” or currently are praying for a prodigal (I like this month-long version), see this as an opportunity to hunt down and offer God worship for the things he has done, is doing, in your child.
What positive moments do you remember in the last year? Why were they positive?
Use this note to your child to talk about the ways you see God in them.
How are your child’s strengths–even if they’re totally different from yours–growing into his image, his unique workmanship in them?
Ephesians 2:10 explains, “We are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” That word workmanship is translated from the Greek poiema, which is where we also derive the English word poem.
If God were expressing himself in poem through your child, what would the world see? His strength, his attention to detail, his drive, his wonder, his courage and advocacy?
Express what you can’t wait to see in your child over the next year.
In your note to your child, walk that razor edge between courageously calling them into what God has for them…and (oops) sermonizing.
I hope this next year finds you leaning even more into God’s Word and all he longs for in you.
Or, I hope 2024 finds you even more “set[ting] the believers an example in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, in purity” (1 Timothy 4:12). I’ll be cheering you on.
I have no doubt God will be working in your powerfully this next year.
End with expressing your unconditional love for your child. This affirms your note to your child wasn’t about your agenda, but about your overflowing affection.
See? You’ve got this. Even if you boil this down to a few simple sentences or even just a purposeful conversation, keep calling your child “further up, further in.” And in your own love, give them a template for God’s covenant love.
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I'm totally #thatmom--the one diving into all the weirdness with my kids, sidestepping a few eyerolls.
Pull up a chair for practical ideas and discussions on the parenting, relationships, and spirituality we're all army-crawling through every day. After five and a half years in Uganda, my family and I returned to the U.S., where I write and speak professionally, and we continue to work on behalf of the poor. My first solo book, Permanent Markers: Spiritual Life Skills to Write on Your Kids' Hearts (Harvest House), released October 2021.
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