There was a framed scripture hanging on the wall in our house in various places in my childhood homes that I often read and pondered, “Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added onto you.“ (Matthew 6:33 KJV)
When I think of “the kingdom,” I think of the church. And to be fair, the church is the kingdom. I have been a church minister for my entire adult career. I have served the church in the ways I knew how. I mentored people and served the poor, but I also I built up programs and propped up systems. At times, my idea of "seeking first the kingdom" was narrowed more and more to specifically what happens in this building, or what events this group puts on. Over time, I have learned that when we get so hyper-focused on what we're doing, and the specific goals we make for our communities, we sometimes lose perspective on what the community actually needs, and what changes we need to make to meet them...
For a long time I was propping up a system which chopped up the various demographics into smaller groups, separated ages, genders, split families into categories… it’s not necessarily bad, because we all need friends and fellow peers to relate to, and we all need safe people to open up to spiritually. But there is a very real risk of developing into something that is detrimental to the community as a whole. The systems I served crossed a threshold, and leadership often put on this pressure, making people feel like if they didn't plug their families into every different program available, they weren't doing their spiritual duty. This amounted to families spending most of their week nights separated from each other, taking time away from being together (Maybe for some people this was a relief).
We didn't even fully come together on Sundays. Instead of mixing old hymns with new songs in one service to cater to the whole demographic, they did different services in older and newer styles, so one group had to give up the form of worship they most connected with in order to cross over to the other age group, and vice versa. This created a clear split between the senior citizens and the younger adults. And kids were put directly into kid's church. Kids never saw their parents worshiping or how they were moved by the spirit. And parents didn’t have to teach their kids how to worship. It maybe even became weird for parents to show their devotion and vulnerability with God to their kids. With some exceptions, and despite some good teaching, the overall effect was that it incentivized parents to rely almost entirely on the church leaders to teach these things to their kids. And they stopped thinking of themselves as spiritual teachers to their kids, and kids stopped seeing their parents as spiritual resources. It removed the idea of spiritual mentoring from parent to child. For families, it created an unhealthy codependency on the few leaders of the church who were--quite frankly--always on the verge of burn-out.
The older senior citizens grew distant from the younger, and formed a totally separate culture. I often still hear older people say, “oh you’re young, the kids will listen to you better…” this is mostly false. kids listen most to whoever loves them and spends time with them the most. But this separation lead to the older generation to feel that they were obsolete. So the young stopped benefitting from the wisdom of the older generation, and the old were deprived of the joy of teaching and imparting their wisdom to the youth. You only got to do that if you were a minister, if your ministry wasn't specifically directed towards your own age demographic (which it normally was). There was no variety in the content of teaching to cater to the whole. There was no cross-benefit of generations, unless you were in a strong family, or socialized well, or decided to take a risk and join a home group of a total different age demographic.
I did that, somewhat unintentionally. There was a time when I had a real problem and needed advice, but I didn't know who to go to. A friend told me who they trusted, and I ended up joining their weekly Bible Study. It was mostly people decades older than me, and at first I felt really awkward, like I'd maybe made a mistake. I thought maybe this wasn't the group for me, until I started hearing them talk about all kinds of things I needed advice on. So I stayed, and let me tell you, it changed my life. Suddenly I had the benefit of wisdom and perspective in my life that I never had before, growing up miles away from my grandparents and extended family. Now these older people had someone young to invest in, and poured their hearts into me, sharing their advice and giving me encouragement, praying for and rooting for my success. Suddenly, I had emotional support from people who were far more experienced and emotionally intelligent than me. It transformed my life and even removed some of the turmoil and chaos and anxiety I never knew I was dealing with. It made me a stronger, more relaxed, more grounded, and more confident human being. It felt like I had a new extended family.
If that could happen for me, who took a social risk and crossed an age barrier, I can imagine how strong mine and many other churches could have been if there was more cross-pollination of demographics going on.
Working primarily as a youth and young adult minister, I started to understand the deep impact our parents and families have on us. Of course we can all attest to this; often our deepest wounds and trauma come directly from our family. Often our deepest motivations are somehow propelled by our parents, whether for or against. No amount of mentoring that I could offer a youth had even a fraction of the influence that their parents had on them. I often felt like merely damage control, helping kids learn to forgive their families for neglect or abandonment, or for being too strict or too hard. But I noticed when parents were mentoring their kids spiritually. Those kids stood out. They were so incredibly grounded, and even able to become spiritual leaders. They were far more well-adjusted and strong. This was a deeper level of emotional stability that I did not have the power to foster. What I could do--while rewarding and definitely worth my time--was only a fraction of what a parent could do.
Even one strong young person can set the trajectory and raise the standard for the rest of the group. I have seen it in action again and again. I see the kids who all the others look to. I have seen their influence and how others will emulate them and even rely on them in the youth groups. And this can carry into adulthood. Even if they don't become leaders in any official capacity, they become pillars of the community who hold up the whole structure and build up others.
When I think of any church community i have been a part of, I can tell you who the pillars were, even if they didn't realize they were. These are often the ones who have been there for many years, who have normal mundane jobs, who have loved their own families and valued their church community. And most importantly, they are the ones who love God above all else.
People--parents in particular--often see my work as a minister as if it is so much more important than theirs. They put me onto a pedestal as if I had magical spiritual powers of influence, and if they sent their kids to me, their kids would suddenly learn what it means to be a Christian. Meanwhile, parents are the ones with the magical influence. I'm just giving some hours of my week to prepare and teach and spend time with their kids, imparting what wisdom I can, and sure, I have some influence... Parents are the ones framing their life choices and finances and resources and time around the raising of these kids. They are the ones their kids entire lives depend on. Who is doing more work here? Who has more time and influence here? Who's actions and choices have larger consequences here? I wish all parents knew how very important it is to learn how to be a spiritual mentor to their kids. If parents did this, we wouldn't have a need for youth pastors.
Don't get me wrong, I consider spiritual ministry a high calling. In the process of emphasizing the role of parents, I don't mean to devalue the work of the church. The church needs families and families need the church. We need people who stay committed to studying the Word because they point us towards God and keep us from veering off into strange doctrines. We need teachers of the Word, because the kingdom doesn't know truth without them. We need evangelists because the kingdom doesn't grow without them. We need shepherds because the kingdom is not healthy or strong without them. But I think we often forget the importance of families and downplay the role of a parent. This is what I want to highlight here. We need people who are willing to raise children, because the kingdom will cease to exist without them.
And parents are the ones most directly influencing the next generation.
I came to a sort of crisis in my mid to late twenties; all the work I had been pouring my life into with such deep dedication was in many ways a detriment… I know we all meant well, and we were doing what we thought was best, doing what we knew how to do… There were good things that came out of it. But a lot of it was propping up a system which had a net damaging effect to the development of the community, hindered the growth of families, and was an obstacle to the raising of the next generation. Because we splintered and separated the demographics, we were headed towards a splintered and fractured community. And I didn't see this as a fault of my own specific church: this was a shared culture, common among many American churches, not just mine. This was a common problem in church because it's a common problem in society and we are all products of our society.
The sum of my ministry experience has taught me that the ministers doing some of the most important work in the kingdom are the ones investing in their own children. They are doing the hard work of caring for the people God has given to them. They are the ones building a stable environment for their young ones to thrive in. They are investing in their own marriages, fighting to keep them together. They are making sacrifices to provide. They are seeking out strong communities to bolster their own efforts (because it takes a village). Even down to being careful to take care of their own personal needs so they can have something left to offer their loved ones (don't underestimate your need for self care, parents! Your heath determines the health of your family!). They are ensuring the success of the kingdom for the next generation. They are securing the future. They are carrying the torch and strengthening their kids to withstand the tides of the new times.
I've known all this for years, but now that I am finally moving towards raising a child of my own, I've had yet another sort of crisis. Even in my process of considering having children, part of me has had to deal with guilt for even wanting them. I genuinely felt I would be giving up my duty to the kingdom of God. For the next season, I would need to stop focusing on the development of the church and start focusing on the development of only one or more specific humans. Part of my identity has been wrapped up in my work. This felt like a betrayal of my calling, like I was now turning my back on my commitment to God. If I'm going to have kids, I want to do it right. I would need to settle down in one place for a longer time and build a stable life for my kids to thrive in, giving up the flexibility I have maintained for the sake of the needs of the church. It felt selfish because I want it, even though it's a selfless act for the sake of the kids. It maybe even felt like a distraction from my life’s purpose. But how terrible for my kids if I kept this mentality--seeing them as a distraction! What a damaging idea!
I have lived a nomadic life, going wherever God leads me. In a way, all these years I subconsciously felt I had sacrificed the prospect of kids for the sake of the church. And there was a separation in my mind: the role of parents in the church--however valuable I found it to be--was different from my role. This is a true statement; my role was different from theirs. However, it does not mean having a child will force me to stop being devoted to God or to his kingdom. I will simply be building it up in a different way, accomplishing it from a different role for a longer season. More importantly, if God has given me a child, this means he is now calling me to raise it. So this IS my calling now. This IS where God is leading me. Scripture couldn't be any more clear about this.
Today, I read this verse:
”Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.“ (Matthew 6:19-21 NIV)
What are the treasures in heaven? Right now, for me, storing up treasures in heaven means investing in my future children. And I don't want to do that half-heartedly.
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