When Children Ask Tough Questions

Photo by Irina Murza via Unsplash. Creative Commons License

When Children Ask Tough Questions

reflections by Troy Cady

A friend posed a question some days ago about helping children process the problem of suffering. Two questions related to this include:

1. “If God is good, loving and all-powerful, why is there still so much suffering and pain in the world?”, and

2. “Why doesn’t God answer my prayers?”

I offered my friend a preliminary response, but then realized I didn’t speak to her specific question—which was whether anyone knew of any books that could help children process these questions. So, I am circling back now and adding these thoughts. I decided to share them here in case they may be of benefit to anyone else.  

Grace and peace,

Troy

………………………

            Dear friend,

            I am so grateful to you for starting this dialogue. I realized later that I didn’t actually address the question you were asking, which has to do with books that engage this concern. Sorry about that!

            In my opinion, the Godly Play story-method does the best job at providing space for this conversation with children. As you already mentioned, however: the big drawback to that approach is that many people do not have access to Godly Play.

            With that in mind, a few books come to mind that could perhaps equip families in this. Forgive me ahead of time if you are looking for children’s books. I haven’t been able to think of any, but maybe this list will be a help. That said, there are books adults could read that would be a help in nurturing a variety of relational skills that I find crucial in having conversations like these with children.

A book on practicing the Examen

The first resource I recommend is a short book called Sleeping With Bread: Holding What Gives You Life by Dennis Linn, Sheila Fabricant Linn and Matthew Linn. This book does not directly address the kinds of questions you are talking about but it commends to us a lifestyle of paying attention to both consolation and desolation in the human experience. When this kind of “paying attention” to both the dark and light becomes a habit, it can help us see the grace that is there even in suffering, pain and unanswered prayer (which are forms of “desolation”).

            Of course, you already know about this under the name of the Examen; I recommend this book, however, because of its accessibility and simple depth. Even children can practice it and this book describes the Examen in such a way that parents could easily find a way to practice it with their children.

            Practicing the Examen in community can help children process the problem of suffering in that the Examen process itself simply opens up space for conversations to be had without forcing any artificial responses. It also provides a language for talking about the mystery of life as a continuous mixture of light and darkness. It is a function of faith to search for language to describe what we are thinking and feeling, so this practice does that really well.

Two more books on childhood spiritual development

The second book I have enjoyed is The Mystery of the Child by Martin E. Marty, but it is somewhat academic and not all the chapters are helpful. The reason I like this book is that Marty does a good job of articulating the “problem-centered” approach to formation vis-á-vis the “mystery-centered” approach.

            I suggest that most discipleship materials we have been exposed to over the years take a “problem-centered” approach to formation. This approach has oriented us to an “assurance” model, where the primary concern is to be sure that there are certain (“right”) answers to specific questions. Of course, it is good to lay foundations, to reinforce truths which are unchanging and rock solid. Children need such a foundation, if trust is to be established. However…

            The problem with the assurance model is that it can only take us so far in our spiritual development. On this front, I encourage others to become familiar with James Fowler’s work Stages of Faith, as he describes that ultimately what we are aiming for in spiritual growth is a more reflective approach that views paradox as a pathway to becoming a more compassionate and empathetic person in adulthood.

            According to Fowler, one does not reach such a “reflective” approach to faith until adulthood but, in my own work with children, I have seen first-hand that they are able to enter into the realm of “mystery” even more fully than adults.

The mystery-centered approach to formation

Indeed, the word “mystery” is what Marty proposes as the basic building block when it comes to childhood spiritual development. He notes that with a problem-centered approach, we tend to employ strategies of “control.” With a mystery-centered approach, however, the primary mode is to explore, wonder, and practice curiosity. The process of formation can meander and the goal is not so much to train someone to produce a certain, specific answer but to form in us a practice of wondering that will better help us live into any number of mysteries as we age, the issue-at-hand included.

            Marty advocates a mystery-centered approach because he notices that when we treat spiritual formation in a problem-centered way it is not long before we start treating the child herself as a problem that needs to be solved. In a problem-centered approach, not only do we feel the need to control the answers, we also become inclined to control the one who is seeking answers. I have unfortunately seen first-hand how both children and adults can be marginalized by the problem-centered approach when their thinking does not conform to the “correct” way a leader thinks everyone should think. In the problem-centered paradigm, belonging is predicated on thinking the right way and producing the right answers. Those who think and say the right things are included and those who do not…end up feeling excluded, unaccepted.

            But people are not problems to be controlled; we are—all of us, at any age—mysteries to be loved. This will sound like heresy to many but I advocate an approach to childhood formation that is less concerned with providing right answers and more concerned with practicing healthy process.

A good book on healthy process

To those of us who are inclined towards a problem-centered approach, letting go of our need for right answers and letting go of our desire for everyone else to share those right answers is perhaps the hardest thing we will ever have to do in this life. That is also why I advocate that, to make space for children to wonder about these mysteries, we primarily need to help the adults in the child’s life prioritize process over content.

            I recommend Edwin Friedman’s insights on “family process” in this regard. His book Generation to Generation addresses this issue well. He observes that if we are to do only one thing to navigate such anxiety-laden issues, we would do well to simply cultivate a non-anxious environment through leaders who embody a non-anxious presence.

Ministry in the home as non-anxious presence

This is the secret, by the way, to the Godly Play process. Godly Play’s value lies not so much in the specific content of the stories that are told. It has more to do with cultivating a peaceful, non-anxious space where children (and adults!) can fully wonder about the mystery of faith. To cultivate this, there are all kinds of non-verbal, environmental factors at play which we could incorporate into the home. Here are a few:

            1. “Make a circle in which we are surrounded by the story of God and God’s people.” The circle structure itself levels the relational playing field (putting everyone at ease) and the surrounding stories encourage a feeling of security, as if we are being held safe within a story that is so much bigger than we are.

            In this regard, I suggest turning to stories in the Bible itself. There is ample opportunity to wonder about the problem of suffering that way. Parents could either use a Bible with pictures in it or they could look up art online that they could use to accompany their reading. In any case, getting beyond just a propositional understanding of the matter and encountering it via a story is crucial.   

            I say this because the story mode itself helps us get beyond a problem-centered approach and automatically places us in the realm of mystery. We do find answers to our questions, to be sure, but the answers come to us in context and they are of a different order than problem-centered answers. We discover propositions that are rooted in life—propositions that offer incarnational interpretations (suited to one’s specific sitz im leben).

            Keeping in mind that most people do not have access to the specific Godly Play experience, I suggest families can still access the “circle-principle” at home. “I wonder how each family would do that?” one could ask. Just that wondering question alone could help families cultivate this ethos in ways that are suited to their unique situation. That said, here is another practice to encourage healthy process:  

            2. Practice plenty of silence. When I am working with children, we always have a moment of silence before engaging the story-at-hand. And, as we tell the story, we pause so there is time to enter into the story by having space to reflect.

            I wonder what difference it would make to help children practice a bit of silence when questions like these come up? I wonder how we would do that?

            Silence is able to help us listen more deeply, so it can not only help us listen to the child better but it can also help the child listen for what God might say (or ask!) in response to their question. I wonder what would happen if we replied to a child’s question about suffering this way: “Good question! I wonder what God might say or ask about that?” or “I wonder if God has a story about that?” Then, just leave a little bit of silence for the child to think about it.

            The child might not be able to come up with an answer, but that is okay, too. The question itself would plant the idea in their head that God might have something to say about their question. Children who have no idea how to answer such a question may simply put the question aside for a while and then circle back to it later when it comes up again. Silence, listening and patience go hand-in-hand. With that, here’s another value to practice:  

            3. Respond by wondering. When I work with children, I always encourage them to wonder. Wondering questions are open-ended questions where children do not have to feel anxious or compelled to provide the right answer. It is evident to me how some children have been so trained in the problem-centered approach that, when it comes to wondering, I can see them looking at me as if they want to make sure they can really say what they think or feel. This is why non-anxious leadership is so crucial. The leader’s primary goal is to be a non-anxious presence in order to cultivate a non-anxious environment. The main concern is process over content, milieu over “learning objective.”

            To cultivate an environment of wondering, we need to trust that the child will learn what the child needs to learn when the child needs to learn it. True learning cannot be forced. Anyone who has ever crammed for a test can confirm this. It is one thing to learn the right answers to meet the demands of a specific moment in time; it is quite another to learn out of sheer desire. In the former, our learning is only temporary and causes no long-lasting effect. In the latter, learning is truly life-changing.

            This is why, when a child asks a question during a time of wondering, the leader is encouraged to wonder right with them, to put the question back to the child. The goal is to whet the appetite for more learning. By replying “I wonder what you think about that” or “Yes, I wonder how that could really be” the teacher will find out how ready the child is to really find an answer. If the child is really ready, they will be driven from within to keep seeking. If they are not really open to an answer (if the question is somehow only superficial for them at the present time) they will most likely drop the inquiry and move on to something that more truly interests them.

            In any case, if an answer is really needed, we can trust they will get an answer in a timely way and in such a form that suits the child’s place in their spiritual journey. Trust in the process is key.

Why adults get nervous by tough questions kids ask

My suspicion is that adults grow nervous when hard questions like these come up because many of us are operating ourselves under an “assurance” or “problem-centered” model. When we cannot produce neat, clean answers, it is very unsettling. We worry not only for the child, but we worry for ourselves.

            I also suspect that those who have spent lots of time and energy coming up with certain answers know deep down that our answers are not so air-tight as we pretend they are. There is an internal frustration that builds when the questions just keep coming, when the questions keep poking holes in our so-called answers.

            There are, of course, many different ways we try to cope with such a frustration, but the most tragic outcome is when our own frustration hurts the child’s own learning. If we are to minister to families well (children included), an argument could be made that the first order of business is to help the adults in the household make peace with uncertainty and to model a non-anxious (trusting) response to hard questions.

The deeper question behind the question of suffering

This leads me to a final observation. There is a question behind the question, underneath the problem of suffering. The question hits right to the core of our being because ultimately what we are asking is whether the world is a safe place to live. Are we safe and secure? Is there someone who will be able to take care of us when all human efforts have reached a limit?

            It is really the pre-verbal question we all have from the moment of birth. In gestation, we experience the world as a place of complete safety, where we are both secure and nourished. While it is true we may be aware of chaos without, we all experience the womb as a place of shalom within—where all that we need is provided and there is no thought spared for worry.

            But when we are born, it is only a matter of time when we will experience the world as shocking and dangerous. We are vulnerable, so our bodies automatically muster whatever is available to survive. From our very first day of life we intuitively know that we are in need of protection. We are not able to survive on our own.

            When we become aware of how dangerous life can be as we age, we are essentially drawing on these primordial fears from infancy. “Is the world a safe place?” And we begin to develop the capacity to extrapolate from our own experience, becoming aware that—even when we feel personally safe—there are countless others who, at any moment in time in any number of other places, are experiencing the world as an unsafe place.

            “Where is God in the midst of all this?” we wonder. If God is supposed to be a parent to us, why has s/he left us abandoned, exposed like this? Does s/he care more about some people than others? If so, none of us are safe. We are all vulnerable.

Why the parent-child interaction matters

In keeping with the reality noted above, we can see that the parent-child relationship shapes our concept of God more than any other relationship. This dynamic is so fundamental to human experience we can observe it embedded even in the ancient code by which the Hebrew people lived thousands of years ago (and still live by today). It is no mistake that the fifth “Word” of the Decalogue (the Ten Commandments) speaks to one’s relationship to one’s parents.

            We know from Scripture that the ten Words were written on two tablets and many scholars see the two tablets in terms of one’s relationship with God (the first tablet) and one’s relationship to other humans (the second tablet). At first glance, it appears the fifth Commandment (about the parent-child relationship) would be included with the second tablet, but many scholars assert it is a first-tablet command because when we are children our parent is a godlike figure to us. I find it interesting that modern psychology confirms this, as well: our concept of God is directly related to our parental relationship.

            I mention this by way of underscoring that I believe the biggest way we can help children grapple with the problem of suffering is by helping parents be a “good god” to them by the way we carry out our mandate to love them and nurture them with care. This is why it was wise of you to include the matter of “unanswered prayer” along with the problem of suffering in your original inquiry. Both issues have to do with one’s sense of safety and security. “Is there a God who listens and answers?” To the child: if a parent doesn’t know how to listen and respond, then why would God?  Listening and responding in a spirit of wonder for these sacred mysteries will do more to “answer” the child’s question than anything else.

Why we need God and why good parenting isn’t enough

This, of course, does not mean bad things won’t happen. There is no way that we as limited human beings can keep bad things from happening. But this is why we need God. Because, even when bad things happen, we believe there is One who is able to hold us as we are born into another world…One who will receive us in love to a world where there will be no more danger, or suffering or pain or death. Somehow, we learn through all this that, though this world is a dangerous place, we can still trust—and trust gives us enough hope to carry on. Trust is not predicated on the absence of danger; in some strange way, it is defined by it.

            How the God of the world to come indwells, surrounds and gives us hope for living in the present dangerous world is the very mystery we are living one day at a time. It is a mystery so big, we can never run out of wonder for it.

            I realize that much of this does not directly answer your question, but I share it nonetheless because, quite frankly, I don’t know how to directly answer your question. But I can wonder about it and encourage others to wonder about it, too. Thanks again for raising the question.

Peace and grace to you,

Troy

what children would say

Dear Grace: What God Says Through Children to Today’s Church

by Troy Cady

A good portion of the New Testament consists of letters sent by Christian leaders to congregations in a variety of cities throughout the Roman empire. Paul sent letters to the Christians in Ephesus, Galatia, and Colossae, to name a few. Peter sent letters to Christians in a variety of provinces.

Generally speaking, these letters were filled with admonitions to believers living in a specific context and the admonitions were aimed at helping Christians know how to live in a way that was both a) different from the culture and b) identified with the culture.  The church as the Body of Christ is intended to resemble Christ in that Jesus was both fully human (identified with us) and fully divine (different from us).

By the indwelling Spirit of Christ, followers of Jesus are enabled to imitate their Lord. That is, they are able to live in such a way that identifies with society but also stands apart from certain self-destructive tendencies in society. This is how the church is able to be a hopeful, loving presence in places and situations laden with despair and hatred.

It’s hard being a Christian. We tend to lean more towards one aspect of what it means to be a Christian than the other: either we identify too much with the world-system or we hardly ever identify with it. Those who identify too much do well to remember that without difference…we don’t make a difference. Those who identify with the world too little do well to remember that we can only love the world to the extent that we relate to people and engage the real world. If we are too separate, we fail to love; if we are too enmeshed, we hold forth little hope that things can change.

This summer at our church we are carrying on this great tradition of letter writing for the purpose of discerning how we can be both in the world but not of the world. Each week, a different leader at our church reads a letter to the congregation that grapples with how we can live faithfully in the way of Jesus that engages with the world as we experience it in 2017 (since a lot has changed since the first century A.D.!).  

Since I have the privilege of working with children, I have engaged them in this exercise, too. Each week I tell a story from the Bible and in our wondering time I ask them: “What does God want the church to know through this story?”

It should come as no surprise to us that the children have some amazing and wonderful things to say. I look forward to sharing with you on occasion what God says to the church in 2017 through them. Here are a couple of examples.

On the first week, we looked at the story of creation and this was the short letter the group created:

“Dear Grace,

God made everything to make a song. God made us because he loves us and God is still creating something new for tomorrow. Remember: even though you can’t see God, he’s still there. Love, Grace Kids.”

Last week we looked at the story of Noah and one boy in preschool offered this bit of wisdom when asked what God was saying to the church through the story. He said:

“Dear Grace,

New life comes after death. Love, R—“

This Sunday we’ll be looking at the story of Abraham and Sarah—and the Great Family they started. I can’t wait to hear what the kids have to say!

I’m sure you’ll agree their words are a much-needed reminder to the church in 2017. My prayer is that the adults will take it to heart, that the adults will learn to receive the kingdom of God like children.

That is why I said to them two weeks ago: “It’s important for the church to hear what you have to say. God has given you a voice and God wants you to use it. I wonder what makes your voice unique. I wonder what others need to hear from you. You have a voice and God wants you to use it. Speak up for what’s true and good, beautiful, right and loving.”

There was a moment of silence as they took in that message. And then the silence was broken as one child asked: “I wonder what your voice is, Mr. Troy.”

I said, “I want to use my voice so that others will hear your voice. It’s important for others to hear your voice.”

I pray it will be so.

the other side of christmas

The Advent/Christmas season is a time of contrasts. Many churches use colors to express this. In the four weeks leading up to Christmas day, many ecclesiastical spaces will be decked with the color purple, and in the twelve days between Christmas day and Epiphany (January 6) the color changes to white.

The same juxtaposition occurs in the season of Lent/Easter. Lent is signified by the color purple and Easter with the color white.

In my ministry with children we tell a story during the four weeks of Advent that begins with these words: “It is now the time of the color purple.”[i]

                                                                                                                                       

The story goes on to explain that purple is the color of kings. In this season, we remember that a king came—and is coming again.

It’s a mystery. Most kings come and go—and that’s it. Most kings do not come-and-go-and-come-again.

But Jesus is not like most kings.

So, in this season, when we especially remember the birth of Jesus, we act as if he still has not yet come. It’s a strange sort of drama, to be sure. It’s strange because, if we really practice this mystery, it disorients us—in a good way.  It disorients us precisely at the time we feel we should be oriented. But the practice of such disorientation is good for us because through it we come to grips with the confusion of existence and the chaos in our own heart.

This confusion and disorientation is echoed at Lent, too. During Lent, when I describe the color purple to the children, I add the idea that “purple is a sad color, a serious color.”[ii] We say this because Lent is a time to remember the suffering of Jesus for our sin, it is a time to come to grips with our own internal chaos. In that respect, we understand why both Lent and Advent are “purple” and we wonder how we didn’t see the “purpleness” of Advent before.  

We typically don’t think of Advent as a sad, serious time because in our culture the weeks leading up to Christmas are happy, “feasting” weeks. But Advent was not always treated this way. Throughout Christian history, the four weeks leading up to Christmas were weeks for fasting that corresponded to the six weeks leading up to Easter. Then, Christmastide (the twelve days after Christmas day) and Eastertide (the six weeks after Easter Sunday) were treated as true feasts.

The contrast is apparent: fast for Advent and feast for Christmas; fast for Lent and feast for Easter. The two cling together because feasting means little if we do not know fasting. Yet our culture tries to make us believe that the best way to prepare for feasting is to simply scaffold our feasting. In America, we build up to Christmas day by going to parties and making extravagant purchases as if we believe it is in our best interest to work up a spiritual tolerance to engorgement. But to pile feasting upon feasting is foolishness. We need both feasting and fasting.

In my ministry with children we portray the two-sided nature of life with objects that are painted purple on one side and white on the other side. I invite the children to try to “pull apart the colors.” The kids and I always smile and shake our heads when each person gives it a go. But, try as they might, they cannot “pull apart the colors.”

I say to them something like: “See? When there is one side, there is always the other side, too. You can’t pull the two sides apart.” But I find it interesting that it is still in our nature to try. Advent, therefore, invites us to consider this paradox: “We do well to remember that all is not well.”

Despite our attempts to confine Advent to a Christmas-happy place, it nevertheless remains a suitable time, a spacious spiritual place, to wrestle with realities that challenge us here and now. Advent is the perfect time to face our own growing darkness, personally and collectively, yet hold out hope the light will indeed lengthen in time. In fact, the faith claim intrinsic to Advent is that such an acknowledgement of darkness plays a key role in ushering in the light. Scientifically, that makes no sense but that is why we need faith. In Advent’s lab, to spot the darkness is to see the light. Yes, it’s a mystery.

---

[i] The Complete Guide to Godly Play, volume 3 by Jerome Berryman

[ii] The Complete Guide to Godly Play, volume 4 by Jerome Berryman

tender mercies

Most Sunday mornings I have the privilege of offering a prayer during our church’s worship gathering.

This year for Advent our church is focusing especially on the theme of joy. One of the key Scripture texts for today’s worship gathering is Luke 1:68-79.  As I read the passage earlier, this phrase spoke to me in particular: “…because of the tender mercy of our God.”

“Tender mercy.” What a precious phrase! “Tender mercy.”

It struck me how much fierce hate and aggression we are exposed to on a day-to-day basis. Lately, the news has been filled with too many stories and opinions related to mass shootings, terrorism, and corruption. And then there is a new expression I hadn’t seen before: “micro-agression.” It’s an idea that conveys the kind of environment many people have to face each and every day. It’s the experience of being struck by hurtful words, suspicious stares, skeptical thoughts and snap judgements. The repetition and regularity of micro-agression one experiences when going from one space to another, one day to another, begins to take its toll on a person’s psyche and soon we are left with more micro-agression in retaliation for the initial micro-agression.

After a while, all these micros pile up to make a macro. And soon we find ourselves lashing out at each other.

But the good news of God is a story of tender mercy. What a precious phrase!

I am fortunate that I get to spend many of my working hours practicing tender mercy in ministry with children. Children thrive on tenderness in much the same way a seedling thrives on gentle care and attention.

Today, I have the privilege of seeing Grace’s children present the Christmas story to another group of people in sore need of tenderness: the elderly. We did this program last year at the same place we will visit this year and here are a couple of the pictures from it.

What displays of tenderness! I do believe the world needs more of this.

So, this is the prayer I will make this morning in worship. It’s a prayer that comes as a response to our time of offering financial gifts as worship. I find it very telling that money and hate too often go hand-in-hand and am hopeful God can write a new script through us in which money becomes a way to show the tender mercy of God. Here is the prayer. I invite you to make it your prayer, too.   

Father,

We are filled with joy this morning because, as your word tells us, you have shown us your tender mercies.

Tender mercies…tender mercies. Thank you, Lord, for your tender mercies.

We are reminded recently that we live in a world where we see anything but tender mercies in the daily news cycle.

Even the season of Advent has sadly become tainted by the antithesis of tender mercy. We go from the vibrant colors of Giving Thanks to Black Friday in a matter of minutes where tender mercy diminishes so that cold, hard cash can be made.

Cold, hard cash…cold, hard cash.

Lord, forgive us for weaponizing currency. In a day when money and guns go hand-in-hand, and money becomes a gun…cold, hard cash…Lord, forgive us.

Our legal tender is anything but tender.

And that is why we pray to you. We pray because it is in you and you alone we can find true, unspoiled tenderness and mercy. As we present you these offerings, have mercy, Lord. As we bring these gifts to you, may they be a loving, soft-hearted response to your gentle tenderness.

We give in hopes that you will take our offering and use it to demonstrate your tender mercy to a world that needs displays of tenderness. Make the world a place of gladness and joy, Father.

           

In Jesus’ Name,

Amen.

child theology as a midrashic process

Child Theology as a Midrashic Process

by Troy Cady

               

“…child liberation theology will only be fully authentic when it is created by children themselves.” R.L. Stollar, “The End of Child Liberation Theology”

“Midrash is a unique Jewish literary genre in which biblical texts are imaginatively interpreted, expanded upon, and even reapplied to other biblical passages. Gary Porton, in ‘One Definition of Midrash,’ identifies several ‘propositions’ on which rabbinic midrash is based, three of which are relevant to this discussion. First, since the Scriptures were believed to be ‘an accurate and complete public record’ of God’s revelations to his people, ‘nothing in the Bible was unimportant or superfluous.’ Moreover, since all biblical passages were believed to be interrelated, ‘a section of the Prophets may be used to explain a verse from the Torah, or a portion of the Torah may explain a passage from the writings.’ Finally, ‘any given biblical verse was open to more than one possible interpretation.’ One rabbi’s—or a modern reader’s—midrash does not replace or cancel out another’s.” –Enid Dame, “Psalm 22 and the Gospels: A Midrashic Moment and a Hope for Connection” from the book Poets on the Psalms, edited by Lynn Domina

…………………………….

Last Sunday

It is a special day because Ian and Ewan will be the storytellers today. Ian and Ewan are in sixth grade. They will lead a group of children ranging in age from five to nine years old. As the group enters the room they form a circle that’s inside another circle. The outer circle is made up of materials we use to tell key Scripture stories—from creation through Christ and what happens after Pentecost.

                We live in the midst of these stories. Our community is formed by them.

                We’ve employed this embodied method of storytelling for almost three years now. It’s a powerful approach not only because it presents a cohesive visual language for the child but also because it orients us, time and again, to the core of our faith. The stories are potent enough in their own right to repeat year after year—yes, the same stories.

                Like musicians practicing scales, the children rehearse the stories so that, in time, they can hear new songs emerge from familiar progressions.

                Ian and Ewan have heard the story they will share a few times. They have already come to know it well. Each time the story itself is told in a way that is consistent, as is customary in the oral tradition. The consistency, however, does not encumber the child—rather, it awakens the imagination, provides a context for a special kind of reflection we call ‘wondering’. The story itself is but a preamble for the proper work of theology: interpretation.

                To facilitate this process of interpretation, we ask questions after the story is told that begin with the expression ‘I wonder…’

                Theological work as practiced by children is a process of wonder.

……………………………………….

               

  I am particularly happy today because the previous week Ian and Ewan said they would like to be the storytellers. But, today just prior to our time together, I asked them if they would like to lead other parts of worship too.

                They said they would like that. So, they facilitated the call to worship prior to the story and the wondering after the story.

                In fact, all I did was watch and listen.

                The time was truly theirs—a theology by children and, therefore, for them.

………………………………………….

                Our approach makes the materials readily available each week so that “…a section of the Prophets may be used to explain a verse from the Torah, or a portion of the Torah may explain a passage from the writings.” (Gary Porton, as quoted above)

                In today’s story and wondering the context called to mind the desert wanderings of the Israelites along with the giving of the Ten Commandments at Mount Sinai prior to that. Counting the story that was told, the children discussed at least three narratives in an interrelated fashion.

                In fact, the story and wondering also included references to manna, the sacrificial system and customs related to the priesthood in the time of Christ.

                To be sure, the children were practicing the ancient discipline of midrash…making connections that span centuries—truly integrative.

…………………………………………….

                “…since the Scriptures [are] believed to be ‘an accurate and complete public record’ of God’s revelations to his people, ‘nothing in the Bible [is] unimportant or superfluous.’”  (Enid Dame and Gary Porton, as quoted above)

                Today the children wondered about the role of incense in tabernacle worship. Are they not similar to rabbis practicing midrash? Truly, no detail is too small to notice.

                Moreover, the scented smoke is noticed in the story and granted importance. In fact, the children think it so important to the story that one girl asks, “Ooo! I have some frankincense at home. I’ll bring it next week.”

                The others look forward to that. I imagine this will kick-start a conversation about the gifts the three wise men brought the Christ-child—which will lead to more integrative thinking, comparing text with text.

                What I love about this conversation is the sense of enjoyment. No one says, “That doesn’t matter.” Or, “That’s stupid! What does that have to do with anything?”

                They accept the idea and run with it. The process is not absent of “critique” but it is a “critique” that is fueled by curiosity, acceptance and openness.  

               

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“Finally, ‘any given biblical verse was open to more than one possible interpretation.’ One rabbi’s—or a modern reader’s—midrash does not replace or cancel out another’s.” (Enid Dame, quoting Gary Porton)

Ian and Ewan got the wondering time started. From there, all the children participated, taking turns asking questions and responding. Almost every child had something they wondered about. I smiled as each of them posed their question by starting with the words “I wonder.”

I did not tell them to do that. They did it on their own. To be sure, they had heard that expression over and over again from me for the past three years but today…they employed the wonder-motif of their own accord.  

To any single question there were at least two varied responses (and most times four, five or six variations). What’s more: the responses seemed to be contradictory, but this did not worry the children. They took it in stride that one person’s response did not have to conform to another’s. Each could be their own person.

At any given time, one would say “I’d like to be the priest in the story” while another child would say “I wouldn’t: that would be scary coming close to God like that.”

To which another child would respond: “I think it’s good to come close to God. God is loving.”

And another would reply: “But God is perfect.”

All this without arguing, mind you. It wasn’t that they were rejecting each other’s ideas. They were simply talking about their own perspective.

Somehow, they knew that both children were “right.” Yes, God is holy—and yes, God is loving. Yes, it is scary to be close to a God who is holy—but yes, God is loving so it is good to be close to him. The ideas that were held in tension formed them in holistic worship.

Adults can learn a thing or two from these children. We tend to argue which part of the tension takes precedence over the other, defines the other. The children let both sides of the tension have equal weight, without feeling the need to resolve the tension. They have made friends with it. They don’t insist they have to have it all figured out.

And, so, they accept alternate interpretations—allowing one to modify the other. The practice of acceptance keeps them learning.

Would that we all could become as children who are more than qualified to serve as warm, curious rabbis—the keenest of theological intellects.

you first, God

I have the privilege of serving in children's ministry at our church. This morning I sent out an email reminding parents, teachers and helpers about some values we seek to reinforce in the way we approach ministry--beyond the specific content we feature. As I looked at those reflections again, I thought I'd share them here with a broader audience in hopes they might be helpful to others and stir imagination. Here's the short letter...

-Troy

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We structure our children’s ministry time on Sundays in such a way that minute-by-minute the children are hearing the message “You first, God” and being invited to order their lives after God’s desires, not our own.

Our time together is counter-cultural on purpose. We want to provide an atmosphere that is slow and quiet because the world we live in tends to be fast and loud. We intentionally unplug from technology because we know children get plenty of that in their Monday through Saturday. We even take care in how we cross the threshold into the children’s ministry worship spaces. In our everyday lives, we often move from one place to the next without pausing to consider what is already waiting for us on “the other side”. But on Sunday our slow and quiet way of entering the children’s ministry room reinforces the notion that God is already there. As we cross the threshold, we anticipate that we are going to be aware of God’s presence and something special awaits us in our time together.

Together. That is a special word, isn’t it? It is one thing to gather; it is another thing to truly be together. Notice how the one word “together” joins two words “to gather”.

We gather to be together. Gathering does not guarantee togetherness. For that, we need a heart-change, a reorientation of self.

Here’s how we try to nurture this “reorientation of self” in our ministry.

1. Through the reverent, gentle way we work with the story objects.

2. Through the formation of a circle in which the story of God is placed in the center.

3. Through the placement of the Focal Story (that’s what we call it) in the center of the front altar.

4. Through the marking of time each week that retells the entire Jesus story annually.

We also counter a “Me first” attitude through “managing the circle of relationships.” It is a way of being together that seeks mutual respect. We practice the dialectic of listening and speaking, making space for one another.

We are far from perfect at this, but that is why we keep trying to reinforce these things each week. Some weeks we do better at this than other weeks. That’s okay. But we will keep trying. We will not give up because we believe that in all this we are seeking first God’s kingdom, the way God wants us to live. Beyond the specific content we deliver, it is by this process we hope to instill a sense of “You first, God!” in all of us.

So, here’s some homework: consider how you can live into values like this in your everyday life--at home, at work, in leisure.  What will you need to stop doing, start doing and keep doing? Be intentional about it.  Practice yourself what the children at our church are practicing. It’s truly life-giving.

good for every soul

In my work as a minister to children at our church, we use a particular approach to ministry which I personally believe is good for everyone—young and old. Let me introduce you to some of the big ideas embodied in this method. As you read these principles, I invite you to consider applying them as you tend to your own growth in faith and mission—or as you serve in nurturing the growth of others.

1. Synergy:

Everything takes two. We grow by relationship. There is “give-and-take” involved as well as “take-and-give”.  

Our relationship with God is synergistic. God comes close to us and we can draw near to God.

Our relationship with others is synergistic. We exchange listening and speaking, expressing and contemplating.

The process of working-together is itself an impetus towards maturity. Our growth depends, then, on how we respond to what faces us and whether we embrace or marginalize those we encounter. Hence, the second principle…

2. Readiness:

There are habits (both internal and external) we can cultivate to put us in a state of “readiness” for genuine encounter. Some of these habits include:

a. Stillness.

It is impossible to encounter the fullness of another person, idea or object when our minds and hearts are preoccupied with other matters. This is why the psalmist wrote: “…give me an undivided heart.” To love another is to fully attend to them. God makes us the “apple of his eye”—that is, he (The Center) has chosen to make us the center upon which he fixes his attention and love. Sounds almost heretical, I know. But, it’s true!

The law of synergy above suggests that God does this so we may return the favor freely. So, God invites us to make him the apple of our eye by stilling our soul, putting to rest anything that would distract us from the object of our love.  The same is true in human relationship.

“Be still and know…”

b. Preparing space.

The practice of stillness represents the preparation of internal space towards genuine encounter.  Sometimes this internal shift leads to a rearrangement of the room around us. Sometimes, however, preparing external space is what helps create this internal space.

A big example: at the top of my street the city tore down an old library so they could build a new one. Why? So neighborhood residents could have a space more conducive to learning.

A small example: This morning, before reading my Bible, I lit a scented candle and put it on a table I could see. I did this so that, if my attention wandered, I would have a visual focus to lead me back to stillness again.

Keep in mind, however, that sometimes the preparation of space serves as no more than a distraction to genuine encounter. Sometimes we get so busy “preparing a space” that we have no time and energy left to engage in that for which we prepared the space in the first place! This is something only you can know for yourself. Strive for balance in this.

Keep in mind, also: preparing space involves getting your body ready for what is to come. You can put yourself in a “posture” of readiness. Kneeling in prayer sometimes helps me embrace a spirit of prayer. Sitting in a position that leans towards someone often helps me be a better listener.

That said, here are some questions you might consider:  How do you prepare space? What kind of surroundings do you like to be in when meeting with a friend or having time with just you and God? When you meet with someone else or with God do you do so with a sense of “ready anticipation”?

c. Preparing time.

I am learning that if I do not take time to meet with God or with a friend (or even with my family), it will not happen. I have to set aside the time.

This is because, with each passing year, the world and its demands grow more and more complex. There are more people to keep in touch with, there are more possessions to steward, more books to read, more things to say. There is more, more, more.

Except time. That is the only thing I will never have more of.

So, it is up to me to steward the time well. This involves a critical choice. Will I take time for others? Will I take time to be with God?

But no sooner do I choose to “take time” than I become aware how counter-cultural it is to do so. It feels strange, this “setting aside of time”! It feels wasteful and slow. It feels inefficient and unproductive. It feels childish and I ask myself, “Is it really necessary to go this slow?”

In my work as a storyteller, I sometimes relate the story slowly and I find that we quickly become fidgety at such slowness—myself included! We incorporate silent moments into the story so we may have time to think or hear something we never heard before.

In almost every instance, we feel compelled to “speed it up, whydon’tchya?” Surely, we know this story already!

But, if we are going to meet with God and others we can only do so in time. So, take time. Set it aside and go slow. You’ll thank yourself.

d. Silence.

The best way to get ready to listen is to be silent and wait. There is no short-cut for this; there are no other alternatives. We cannot listen and speak at the same time. To listen, we must shut our mouth and silence the words in our head—and listen.

But we have so much to say! Yes, this is true.

And that is our problem. For there is far more that we have to receive than what we have to give. We are not the be-all and end-all of it all, after all.

So, we still ourselves,

we prepare space,

we prepare time,

and we practice silence.

Now, we are ready.

3. Tell stories and wonder.

Stories are more complex than propositions—unless we can see the story behind the proposition! There is a story behind Jesus’ command to “love your enemies.” In fact, there are many stories behind that command. The words invite us to live into the proposition. When we live into it, the proposition becomes a story—and in the story we encounter Truth—which is living, personal, and filled with beauty, mystery.

What’s more, there is no exhausting the Truth. We can learn all there is to learn about facts. I heard someone once who memorized the whole Gospel of Mark; he knew it word for word without error. But what impressed me more was that this man seemed to cherish the words he learned. There was a Person behind the words that he grew to love dearly.

That is the difference between true and Truth. Something may be true objectively but when we experience it first-hand (subjectively) it becomes Truth. Stories take true things and relate them to us in such a way that they become Truth. By engaging stories, we also have the chance to explore countless questions that arise. There is always something more to be discovered because our mind and heart cannot hold it all at one point in time. That is why stories are so crucial to one’s process of maturing. They provide occasion to wonder.

There is much more that could be said, but I suppose that is enough to chew on for now. Until later, I invite you to consider how you might appropriate some of these principles in your own life.

I hope this helps you in some way!

Yours,

Troy

hope and children

This past Sunday, I had the opportunity to present to a group of kids at our church the first story in a series I'm writing called PlayFull Faith. To be sure, I hope the PlayFull Faith series will help people of all ages—adults and children—but one of the tests I have for it is the “child-friendly” test. I want the story to engage kids and help them interact meaningfully with the content.

Here’s why this matters to me: I believe in a God of hope. In fact, I believe that, though love is the greatest of the three cardinal virtues, it is impossible to love when one has no hope. Hope is a spring from which faith and love become possible.

To hope is to live now in what-is-to-come. It is a posture that relinquishes regret concerning the past and embraces courage in the present because “greater things have yet to come” in the future.

Hope is so foundational a whole theological system has arisen out of it. This “theology of hope” is one that truly embodies the “now-and-not-yet” aspect of the kingdom of God of which Jesus spoke. Faith in this Jesus-of-hope orients one in the present according to “what-will-be”—redemption, joy, beauty, shalom. A true theology of hope enables one to act in love today through a joy-filled vision of the future.

I agree with that much.

But here’s my problem with many of our so-called theologies. They fail to take children into account—not merely as objects of theology but as subjects—or rather, as authors. Yet, what better resource is there to develop a theology of hope than children?  Children have the best chance of living out hope since their future is greater than their past. “The future” is what they have. “The past” is what they will have, in time.

Because of this, PlayFull Faith is intended for all—both young and old—to discover what it means to live in hope. The stories in the series are derived from The Story, as told in the Bible. That Big Story reminds us we are destined for things that spring from Someone “who was and is and is to come.”  If these stories are not for children, they cannot be for any of us—because, before our Father, we are all children.

Be on the lookout—especially for this first story in the series. I expect it will be used in all kinds of settings to help folks dream about the future. Yes, the creation story is not just about something that happened in the past. It is a story about the future.

And thank you for all the encouragement so many of you have given thus far! You truly give the folks at PlayFull “hope to carry on.”

Smiles,

Troy

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This article was originally posted over at playfull.org. I invite you to visit PlayFull on Facebook and give us a like!