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Call out for insight
and raise your voice for understanding.
Proverbs 2:3
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Elizabeth writes a weekly devotional that can be delivered to your inbox. Sign up today!
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 Footprints in History |
Charles
Finney, October 1821
He was the
youngest of fifteen siblings and struggling to make the transition from
farmer to lawyer's apprentice when God barged in to his life. At twenty-nine
Charles had little formal education and no religious instruction of any kind.
While he, like most of his Connecticut neighbors, believed the Bible was the
word of God, he had never bothered to read it.
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My Path |
Passing the Faith Along
I recently received
an invitation to submit a feature article on the net. The problem was they
wanted a thousand words on the key to raising faithful Christian children and I
was stuck. If a key ever existed that could guarantee faithful Christian children,
no one ever told me where to find it.
But, I've had some
time to think since then and now wish I could reconsider. I still don't know of
any key to success, but I do know a "key" that almost guarantees failure: If
you are not faithfully practicing Christianity in your own life, odds are very
great that your kids won't be either.
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Modern Footprints |
I froze, horrified at what had just
happened. Ty was still holding his hand
over the spot where Ed's head had been only moments before as if balancing the
basketball there, but the ball was gone, and Ed was on the floor.
It had started out as a normal Wednesday night
youth meeting, but ended in disaster. As usual, the boisterous hum of teenage
voices began to wane after dismissal. Each time the gym door squeaked open and
slammed shut, the volume level dropped until the only noise-makers left in the
room were me, my brother, Ty, and Ed - a nerd
with hideous glasses. We stood on one end of the gym and tried to see who could
throw a basketball across full court and hit the opposite backboard. I could
barely throw it past half court and it was embarrassing.
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Footprints in History, continued
Being a
lawyer's apprentice was a challenge and he worked long hours searching out the
wisdom to be found in books. This research included the book on which most law
was based; the Bible.
Reading the
Word of God created a tremendous sense of need in him which bordered on
despair. Finally, he could stand it no longer. "On a Sabbath evening in the
autumn of 1821, I made up my mind that I would settle the question of my soul's
salvation . . . But as I was very busy in the affairs of the office, I knew
that without great firmness of purpose, I should never effectually attend to
the subject. I therefore then and there resolved, as far as possible, to avoid
all business, and everything that would divert my attention, and give myself
wholly to the work of securing the salvation of my soul. I was, however, obliged
to be a good deal of time at the office."
Reading a
list of his responsibilities and schedule, Finny would fit easily in corporate
America, but he cut corners until he found a way to seek the face of God and so
can we. For Finney, this chance came the following week when on his way to
work, he purposely diverted his steps and went instead to a nearby wood to walk
among the trees and pray. His time alone was the collimation of weeks of prayer
and in the end he found what he was looking for.
"Just at that
point this passage of Scripture seemed to drop into my mind with a flood of
light: Then shall ye go and pray unto me,
and I will hearken unto you. Then ye shall seek Me and find Me, when ye shall
search for Me with all your heart. [
] Somehow, I knew that that was a passage of Scripture, though I do not
think I had ever read it. I knew that it was God's word, and God's voice, as it
were, that spoke to me. . . I had intellectually believed the Bible before; but
never had the truth been in my mind that faith was a voluntary trust instead of
an intellectual state. . . I cried to Him, 'Lord, I take Thee at Thy word.'
That seemed to settle the question"
Although he
got a late start, before his life was over God used Finney to shake the
prejudice, complacency and theology of a nation.
My Path, continued
One of the
redeeming graces for parenthood is that over time your child will probably
forget most of your mistakes. The thing they will not forget is the consistent pattern of life you followed day by
day. If your character was basically hypocritical, or genuine, or harsh, or kind,
the kids will know it and that quality is the thing they will dwell on thirty
years from today. The same is true for the spiritual. If spiritual principles
were important to you and incorporated into real-life situations, that fact
won't be lost on your offspring. If, on the other hand, your religious
practices were of the hit-&-miss,
don't-do-what-I-do-but-do-what-I-tell-you, variety they won't miss that either.
Basic things like
regular church attendance, avoiding gossip, letting it slip once in a while
that you have been praying over a matter and having a Bible with worn pages are
sure clues that you take spiritual issues seriously. These behaviors can't
really be called "keys" but your children will know without being told that there
is a connection between your faith and your actions.
Of course, if you
really want to go above and beyond, you might try actually opening your mouth
and telling them something about faith. Recently, many families took time to
read the Christmas story from the book of Luke. That is a start. Holidays are
natural a time for words of faith and the "lets read a story" practice can be
extended beyond Christmas and Easter.
Mealtime is another
opportunity to say something significant. Thirty seconds of silence followed by
three sentences of prayer can make all the difference in both mealtime
atmosphere and digestion. Oh yes, and while you are at it, don't let the kids be
the only ones who pray. A good rule is if the children hear their siblings pray
more often than their parents, something is amiss.
I suspect one
reason I am sometimes asked about the "key" to raising Christian children is
the success of my own brood. If my count is correct (it keeps changing!) there
are thirty branches and twigs on the family tree with more buds likely to
follow. Three generations have spread out from Texas to the East coast and on
any given Sunday you can find most all of them in church. Yet, I know that I am
not the source of their success and anyone who looks in this direction for a "key"
won't find one. I don't deny a lot of prayer and hope when into the four
children God gave me, but I've seen other Godly, faithful parents who grieve as
they watch their children take the wrong path. I suspect that as far as
children are concerned, the only guarantee we have is the satisfaction of
knowing that if they do choose the wayward path, it will not be because we led
the way.
No, my family is
not perfect. There have been heartaches and disappointments. Not all of my
offspring are as spiritual strong or committed as I might wish. Some of the
sheep look a little grey now and then. But the goodness and faithfulness that I
see among them is a delight and I look forward to watching generation four take
up the touch and pass it along.
That is why it
pleases me beyond measure to publish a granddaughter's contribution in this
month's Modern Footprints column. Check it out. Jenny first submitted this as
an assignment for her Christian school. Reading of her spiritual mistakes and
growth has been enough to make this granny grin from ear to ear and I think you
will like the story, too.
If you have a comment, click here. I would love to hear from you!
Modern Footprints
After a few minutes,
Ed tired and sank to his knees in the middle of the gym. Ty ran up to him and
placed a basketball on his head then jokingly dared me to kick it off. A small voice
nudged my heart that maybe this was not a good idea, but I quickly ignored it. My
pride still smarted from my lack of muscle power so I took him up on his offer
hoping to show off. Both boys were surprised that I accepted but wanted to see
if I could do it, too.
I focused on the task
ahead of me. Then raised my foot and swung at the ball with all my might.
Apparently, I did not raise my foot high enough, for it collided with Ed's
nose. The basketball flew one way as his glasses scattered in three different
directions and his body crumpled to the floor. It took a second for Ty and me
to snap out of our stupor. Then we rushed to help our friend.
We decided that Ed
was all right, but the scratches on his face made him look like a cat had
attacked him. As I picked up the fragments of his glasses, I apologized many
times. But he assured me that he was fine. Only he needed to go home and lie
down. Ty and I escorted him to his car and waved as he drove off, then we
climbed into my car and headed home.
Driving Ty home that night gave me a long
time to think. Why hadn't I listened to that small voice? Tears of repentance
and shame streamed down my face. Because of my foolish actions, my parents
grounded me from driving and from the phone for a month. That was okay. I
deserved a steeper punishment than that. But the lesson that I learned that day
weighed heavier than both my parents' disappointment and my punishment. I
learned that my God-given conscience will guide me in making good judgment if I
listen to it. The next time I hear that still small voice, I will be sure to
listen!
By Jenny Guest
Back to Modern Footprints
Jenny is the teenage granddaughter of Elizabeth Baker. Want to encourage her? You can email by clicking here | |
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