Reflections on Donald Miller & thoughts on children

So I am reading two books right now, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Donald Miller and Crazy Love by Francis Chan.  Perhaps these two guys should not be mixed, because my brain is on overload with all sorts of thoughts.  Good thoughts though.  I am sure I will post several thoughts about Chan's book over the next few weeks, and if you haven't read it you really should (just push through the first couple chapters and then he really starts raking you over the coals).  But Donald Miller struck a chord with me tonight.

The quote won't make sense to you if you haven't read the book, but you'll still be able to follow where I'm going.  So I won't ruin it for you or anything, but you'll just have to trust me that I'm going somewhere with it.  So here's the quote:

"Bob and Maria's kids, now grown and in high school and college, each have a quiet dignity and confidence.  They also have an informal charm, as though they just know they would like us if we'd take the time to get to know each other.  It is obvious they'd played the roles in the story their family was living, the roles of foreign dignitaries, traveling with their parents on the important assignment of asking world leaders what they hope in.  Their story had given them their character.  I only say this about the children because I used to believe charming people were charming because they were charming, or confident people were confident because they were confident... The truth is, we are all living out the character of the roles we have played in our stories" (Miller, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, 166-67).

This was quite challenging for me in relation to myself and in relation to how I am raising and will raise my kids.  If I want my story to be about caution and safety, never getting hurt and making sure the bills are paid, that is what kind of character I will arrive at the end of my life with.  My story will be boring; not only will it not bring God's reign to earth, but it will distract and detract from the shalom he intends, because our lives were never meant to be safe and boring.  I can TALK all I want about living a great life for God, making a difference, being on a mission, etc., but if this talk does not translate to my actual life, to living like a missionary, to taking risks, my life will never be the abundant adventure Jesus was all about and wants me to be all about.

The talk about children, and specifically about how we raise them, struck me even more.  Nearly all parents love their children.  A lot.  And from the time they come out of the womb we are trying to take care of them the best we possibly can.  What does it mean that he hasn't pooped in three days?  Why does she keep spitting up like that?  She won't eat her vegetables--how do we make her?  He won't take his nap and it might stunt his growth.  And on the worry goes.  It seems that the main goal for many parents somewhere along the way becomes the safety and security of our kids.  Just keep them safe, and eventually they'll be an adult and will be able to protect themselves.

I think this thinking disappoints God terribly.  He has created us (and our kids) for a wonderful adventure, and we strive for safety!  He has created a massive and wonderful ride, and we tell our kids they can't get on because they might get hurt.  This might be a little harsh, but I know I am often so guilty of over-protecting.  I don't want my daughter to play with the neighbor kids because they might be mean to her and hurt her self-esteem, and this might begin a downward spiral of self-doubt and low self-esteem, and eventually she will doubt even the love of her parents and of God and will engage in all sorts of rebellion, or she'll never be able to truly love others because she never really loved herself.  And all of this will trace back to those neighborhood kids who were mean to her.  I've never really had these exact thoughts, but this is sort of how the logic goes in parent brain, isn't it?  And it's sad.  As Donald Miller would say, often we are not allowing our kids to live out their best story, the story God has for them.  And all because of OUR fear.

I noticed something with my oldest the other day.  She prays my prayers.  I hadn't noticed it before, because my prayers are so often drivel, so there was nothing to notice.  She prays at meal times, and she says the same thing every time: "Dear God, thank you for this food, and thank you for this samich, and thank you for grapes, and thank you for string cheese, and thank you for this day, Amen."  And this is really cute, because she's three.  And I think it's great that she's praying.  But I realized the other day that she's not really praying.  She's just repeating a bunch of words she thinks she's supposed to say so that she can get to the important part, the food.  That's not her fault, it's mine.  Because that's what I do when I pray for meals: I say the same thing every time, basically, so that I can get to the important part, eating.  When was the last time I really paused before a meal, and breathed God in, and praised him for the blessings of the day?  It's been a while.

Anyway, the other day she prayed, and this all hit me because her prayer was different.  She said, "Dear God, thank you for this food, and please be with all the hungry people and sick people, and thank you for this day, Amen."  Wow.  I had prayed the night before with her, and I had prayed a real prayer.  We were praying for the child of a friend of ours who is sick, and we went on to earnestly pray for all those who needed God right now--those without homes, those who were hungry, those who were sad.  And she got it.  And she prayed a different prayer, and I believe she meant it.

When our lives are about keeping our children safe, when they are boring, our children will live boring lives.  Worse, they'll think that's the goal.  But when our lives are about something special, about the Kingdom, about Shalom, about making this world right, about taking risks for the glory of God, and when we bring our children into that story fully, helping them to live out that story with us, our lives and the lives of our children will be far from boring.  They'll be exciting, and intoxicating, and life-giving.  People will wonder at their grace and love for others, at their wisdom and dignity.

May we live in such a way, and may we give up our fear for our children.  After all, "who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life [or the life of his child]?" (Matthew 6:27)