"Aren't you going to pray first?"
It happened pretty fast. The boy who once shouted like a faith healer at his lunch table in preschool about how each person in the room was God's creation....who told his preschool teacher about how ALL of us are bad and need a savior when asked about whether he made Santa's "nice" list.....who just a few weeks ago was starting conversations with kids about the origins of the universe....."forgot" to pray before lunch last week. I was volunteering in his class and had SO been looking forward to sharing this time with him - this time during which he'd been pretty aware of being the only one praying.
I didn't handle it very well.
I left school immediately formulating my strategy for a conversation with him later. The recurring thought I had was, "He's being assimilated. This is just the beginning. How do I stop it?"
Because, you see, I've been actively preparing Andy for just this time since the day he could make a conscious choice. Check this out:
Yeah. Cute, impressive, and motivated almost entirely out of my own fear. What am I afraid of?
* My boys will care more about fitting in than honoring God
* They will be far more influenced by their non-Christian friends than by the Word of God
* They will believe the lies this culture propagates, and turn from the Truth
* They will not care to seek a personal relationship with the God who hung on a cross for them
So we read scripture every morning. We recite scripture every morning. I pray for them constantly. I have discussion after discussion with them about who God is and how Satan and this world want to convince them that His Word is meaningless. We talk evolution. We put on the Armor. We sing Third Day songs. We have a "Thank you, God" wall.
There's nothing wrong with these things, except that they have become my hope. And that's not ok. Because my hope - for myself and my boys - belongs somewhere entirely different. Somewhere outside of my control, my intelligence, my commitment, my determination to do it all right and succeed. It belongs here:
"Therefore, prepare your minds for action, keep sober in spirit, fix your hope completely on the grace to be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ. As obedient children, do not be conformed to the former lusts which were yours in ignorance, but like the Holy One who called you, be holy yourselves also in your behavior; because it is written, 'YOU SHALL BE HOLY, FOR I AM HOLY.'" - 1 Peter 1:13-16
I have been striving to prepare my son's mind for action for the past 5 years. And if I could give you a picture of what I've done, it's essentially this:
And this will never do.
I cannot, by my methods, force his being into something that is holy - something that can be and longs to be in close relationship with the God who made and loves him. Here, I force him to do the very thing I'm always warning him the world will want him to do: conform. And yes, the product may look good for awhile, right? There are far worse molds out there to be forced into. But that's just it. If all I'm after is outward conformity to some earthly standard of piety, I send a fragile ball of clay out into a world that will quite easily crush it....and then re-make it however it likes.
So what on earth is a mother to do? She's supposed to "train up her child in the way he should go", right? What is prescribed instead for a young man in his condition, as well as his mother?
A very smart man who happens to be my husband recently reminded me that it is nothing short of complete transformation.
We are told in Romans 12:2 that this happens by the renewing of the mind. And I know full well that I can't renew my son's mind any more than I can renew my own. Play dough doesn't cease to be play dough on its own.
So today, I ask my Father to fix my hope COMPLETELY on His grace - "undeserved favor" - that is mine through Jesus' death and resurrection. I tell Him that my goal today is not outward conformity, but true inside-out transformation. And so, He prepares me for action.
And now. Will my sons be conformed to the lusts of this world? Will they fall for the lies fed to them in this culture? Will they ignore their desperate need for a rescuer? I don't know. But I do know that they will have a mother that was once a ball of play dough being crammed into whatever mold might gain her the most success, popularity, or approval; and now is something entirely different that stands on Solid Rock that cannot be molded, melted, or moved. And her hope for them is the same as her hope for herself: the incomprehensible grace of God.
And I do know this: unlike any method I could ever conceive, this grace NEVER fails.
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