My children are not yet grown. I can’t claim the authority that comes from raising Godly children to adulthood. But along the way, these are some of the things I am learning and conclusions I have made from watching others.
The ultimate selfie includes posing for a life portrait as the most loving parents—which many interpret as generally being the nicest parents. The ultimate evil in our society is the mistreatment of children, and society’s definition of mistreatment is any treatment that does not place them at the top, dead center. But why do we do what we do? Is it because we are selfless parents working for the best long-term outcome for our children? Or do we do it because it makes us feel good in the short term? “Sure, stay up a little later, have another cookie, watch one more episode, play one more video game, sign up for all the activities you want—we’ll pay for them, and we’ll rearrange our entire lives to make sure we’re there for every game, performance, and dance.” It’s easy to say yes. Being the jerk takes work, enough work that I might “need” another cookie myself. In fact, maybe the real reason I told my son he could have another cookie is because I wanted one. Maybe I wanted one because I felt like I didn’t get enough as a kid, and of course, I can’t do one thing and say another...can I? No, that wasn't my personal issue. I’ve always had plenty of cookies, and that’s definitely not the answer. But I have always been told that parents cannot hold children to a standard above their own. This was often the cause of disrespectful thoughts toward my father as a child, not because it was self evident, but because I was at the same seminar as my dad. The man on the stage asked, “Father’s, do you demonstrate what you require of your children? If your garage is a mess, how will you get them to clean their room? I started saying things like, “Why should I clean my room? Your garage is a disaster.” But my dad was no idiot, and he wasn’t lazy either.
I remember the smell of dust and oil as I swept the garage. Yeah, you couldn’t sass my dad without paying for it. The two large circles on the cement floor, one rough, and one smooth, told the story of my dad going the extra mile to seal the bottom of his grain-bin after fall harvest. The smooth circle was where my dad placed his grain bin. The rough circle was where my grandpa placed his. He didn’t bother sealing it; after all, it was a temporary storage. My dad was going to build his garage on this slab in the spring, “goodnuff for now.” But the corn in my Grandpa’s bin rotted, and the acid from the rotten grain etched the cement—forever testifying to my dad’s wisdom. The rough circle was ugly, and it was harder to keep that part of the floor clean.
As a kid, you just don’t know what your parents are doing or what they’ve done. There is no way for a child to understand until they’ve grown up and lived a while. The man on the stage didn’t know my dad either. He didn’t know that he was a high school teacher, farmer, Bible camp director, and business owner. He never knew the battles he fought or would fight later. Cleaning the garage seemed to be one of my eternal jobs as a kid. It was hard. Keeping my mouth shut was harder.
Hypocrisy is tricky. Disciplining your child for something you know you too have failed at is humbling. It’s easy to want to try to hide our failures or to ignore wrong behavior we are also guilty of so that we appear less hypocritical, but that is a temptation we must resist. Hiding our failures brings the opposite effect than what we hope for, and ignoring wrong behavior is like planning our child’s demise. We can’t simply wait until we’re perfect to train our children. Being a hypocrite and then facing it, not hiding it, is the way forward. It is important for our children to know that we fail, that we don’t give up, that our heavenly father loves us in spite of our failures, and that He disciplines those He loves. My children know I’m guilty of some of the same things I discipline them for. They also know that I have a different set of responsibilities than they do, and so far they are thankful to keep their roles.
Discipline is only one aspect of not worshiping our kids. What percentage of our life is caught up in special activities for our kids? Do they know it? If they think they are only loved when the world revolves around them, how will they receive love in the real world? When I was young, I wished my dad would spend more time doing fun things with me. When I was in baseball why didn’t he spend hours at the batting cages with me or give me the money to go? Because we couldn’t afford it, and we didn’t have time. He ran children’s camp during the summer, and farmed. During the school year he was a teacher. Even though my dad was busy, I spent plenty of time with him, but not in batting cages or arcades. I followed him out to the field. We worked on tractors together, plowed fields together, harvested together, got wet, cold, and dusty together—why? Because he was a farmer. Our relationship existed on his terms, not mine. My dad never used his children as an excuse not to do something that needed doing. I learned that you can sing at the top of your lungs in the tractor; nobody is there to criticize you. At thirteen years old I was driving a huge tractor towing wagons full of grain down the road. When he had to grade projects at the high school, I went with him after supper. That was where I got to drink Dr Pepper—no, we didn’t have it in our fridge at home. I learned the smells of the photography lab and spent time making things from wood scraps in the wood shop.
For a while I resented always having to work instead of playing. But as a parent, it’s all making sense now. One of the biggest struggles I have had as a parent is figuring out how to make sure my kids struggle enough to grow into warriors instead of couch potatoes. After deleting all the scenarios that caused resentment as a child, I found that I’d created a life of ease for my children. And there is no quicker road to hell than spoiling kids. But it isn’t just about work. Our culture breeds narcissism from birth to death, and if your life is busy revolving around your kids desires, don’t think that will go without impact. The culture teaches your kids that they should be denied no opportunity, that everything they want to do should be placed within their reach, that they shouldn’t have to fight for anything. Suddenly suicide is an option for more and more people reaching the age of adulthood. But there are millions who don’t follow through with it who will continue for years trying to find a reason to live.
It is important for our kids to see our love and sacrifices for them, but they must know those sacrifices in the context of our Savior whose words we do not ignore, in the context of a hurting world whose needs we are not blind to, and in the context of preparing them to live, suffer, and die with hope and joy to the glory of God! Children can understand, see, and believe more than we think. We do them great harm when we build for them a temporary world where they are gods, and we are their servants.
Thank you, Mom and Dad, for giving me an excellent childhood on your terms. Thank you for not using your kids as an excuse.
—reh
—reh
Proverbs 3:12 “because the LORD disciplines those he loves, as a father the son he delights in.”
Hebrews 12:8 “If you are not disciplined—and everyone undergoes discipline—then you are not legitimate, not true sons and daughters at all.”
John 5:19 “Jesus gave them this answer: “Very truly I tell you, the Son can do nothing by himself; he can do only what he sees his Father doing, because whatever the Father does the Son also does.”
