I have children who I once thought had their own relationship with God. Long before I sat down to write this I understood that wasn’t true. My aunt once said that as a young person she had a drug problem. Apparently her parents, my grandparents “drug” her to church…every time the doors were open. My children grew up in similar circumstances. Their mother and I took them with us every time we went. Speaking for myself I only took them because they were children and they were too young to be left at home unsupervised and not because I thought they were going to get much from it. It was and continues to be my belief that it wasn’t a church’s job to introduce them to a belief system, to a religious doctrine, or a worldview that conforms with mine.

I have learned the hard way to keep my expectations low for the performance of people whose vocation is religious education. Such people, as noble as their intentions may have been, only had access to my children a few hours a week. As my children grew into their teens much of their socialization with other people occurred at some activity that was happening at our church. They made friends and developed relationships there. They were eager to attend more often than not. It was an opportunity to see their friends and from time to time to do something fun with them.

As my children matured further and had other friends from high school or work whose backgrounds were different than theirs, they struggled between the two worlds. Usually around the time they were old enough to drive my wife and I stopped insisting they attend church with us. There were moments in time when I thought that at least some of my children had chosen a faith or pattern of belief that resembled mine but they never really did. Although none of my children articulated it like this, I was able to figure out through circumstances and conversation why they abandoned or examined and found wanting what has so captivated my heart.

It was people. Some religious do-gooder along the way hurt or disappointed them who they perceived was a representative of what their parents believed. I wish I was better able to demonstrate to them that one’s faith is a profoundly personal matter….an intimate relationship with a person. I have known many people who believe what I do and some of them, in some way have hurt me. I never considered abandoning or reconsidering my faith because of them, however. The thought process of my children seemed to be, “If people of this faith behave this way then I want nothing to do with it.” That’s not to say that if my children kept their eyes on their mom and dad then their stories would be different. Our performance was the best we could offer at the time and profoundly flawed. Their response to us would have been the same…“No thanks.”

There are some things I came to understand when struggling with my guilt. Clearly I was an influence but am I responsible? Am I responsible for the choices of my children as it concerns God…or anything for that matter? The answer is a hard no. As hard as it is to let go of and accept as a parent…I am not ultimately responsible. Another thing I figured out was that God introduces HIMSELF to people in a manner that I am too lazy or inarticulate to understand. I really don’t think that it is my job to introduce anyone to God. He is capable of expanding his relationships…his kingdom as it pleases himself. Accepting this mindset as it concerns my children frees me. It frees me to enjoy and experience my children where they are now as God goes about the business of introducing himself to them. I have heard of people…parents…who have disassociated themselves from their children because they adopted a lifestyle different or disagreeable to them. I don’t understand how a parent who claims to know a God turns from a daughter who gave birth to a child without a husband or who terminated a pregnancy….a child who divorced a spouse…a son or daughter who amuses or medicates themselves with drugs or alcohol. I have difficulty wrapping my mind around how a mom or dad abandons a child…but it happens. Maybe parents see their children’s objectionable behavior as a personal betrayal that creates an unbridgeable chasm. I remember my own impotent anger…my rage…the debilitating disappointment that results from those conversations that really boiled down to this:

“How could you do this!?”

“It was easy, you’re the one making it hard.”

When the dust settled I remember thinking…praying (sometimes I can’t tell the difference), I am so lost. The most important thing a husband and wife do together is raise their children. It was frustrating for me to realize when the job was almost done that I lacked the skills…the tools…to produce functional grownups…let alone followers of God or Jesus. It was my opinion that children learn the most from watching how their parents live and pay little attention to what they say. In my case my children did little of either. If I had realized then they weren’t paying that much attention maybe I would have had a beer once in a while. None of this is to suggest that my children haven’t grown up. Most of them learned just like their dad did…the painfully hard way…wading through the consequential sewage of their bad choices.

The last thing Jesus said on Earth before he ascended was to his disciples. He said to go and tell the good news…baptize those who believe…make disciples. These instructions were and continue to be a very big deal. The problem arises when followers of God…parents of children…believe that they are somehow partners with him as he builds his kingdom…as he introduces himself to other people…their children. God doesn’t depend on me to speak the good news…he commands me to do it. My participation…my obedience is demanded and wanted but never necessary…he alone is able to establish his kingdom…introduce himself and win hearts. If God the father is able to accomplish his ultimate agenda without me then why am I instructed to do anything…say anything? My opinion is…my life experience thus far suggests…that my father is just pleased to have his son…his child…alongside of him only because he loves him not because he needs him to do anything. Apart from God I am useless. I’m a mechanic with an engine to rebuild with a tool bag full of hammers to accomplish the task…useless. Oftentimes I think he just wanted me to watch what he did and to not attempt to perform a task that was always his to do.

Bella, I think, is the picture of what all this looks like. She is seven years old. If I get up from the sofa she wants to know where I’m going…what I’m getting ready to do…she wants some of what I’m eating…she wants to help with what I’m doing. Bella doesn’t really care about what I’m doing…what I’m eating…or where I’m going. For whatever reason she doesn’t want me out of her sight for a minute. I wish I was more like Bella as it concerns my father.