You can be anything–if it’s safe.
When our children are young, we see glimpses of who or what they can become. It is exciting to think of what careers or accomplishments they may set out toward.
Our oldest has all the great qualities of a teacher. She has a very creative ability to think of ways to explain things, and is gifted at mediating between different ideas while validating both sides to find a compromise. She’s also observant, artistic and creative. She loves to learn and to solve problems. We would not be surprised if she finds a career in education.
Our younger daughter is the sharp, witty and convincing second-born. She sets her eyes on a goal and will not be swayed, and she will propose persuasive arguments to enlist your assistance toward that goal. She is deeply compassionate, but has a strong burden for justice. Her heart breaks for anyone, human or beast, in pain. She’s had to overcome a significant number of challenges in her Kindergarten year, things that would be hard for any five-year-old to adjust to and still learn, yet she was able to meet and exceed all expectations to thrive. Currently she wants to be a police officer and a dog trainer. I wouldn’t be surprised if she becomes a prosecutor.
With these innate leanings and gifts and strengths, there are any number of things our girls might do.
Parents, you can see the potential for greatness in your children like no one else. You also see the ways their weaknesses could become pitfalls, or you imagine how they will have to struggle in the process of reaching their goals. You also see where their hopes could be dashed, or where their goals involve risk.
If you’re honest, you fear what could happen if they pursue their dreams. If my daughter becomes a police officer, there is real danger in that line of work.
Everyone would agree that our goal is to raise them capable of handling greatness–of making the hard choices to take the high road, to pursue paths that are fulfilling, that are beneficial to them, to their families, and to their communities.
We want our children to stand on our shoulders and reach heights we cannot.
And toward that end we do our best to nurture an environment where they can thrive, to set a foundation for them to build the confidence and ability to succeed. We want to give them a good education, teach them a solid work ethic, and build faith that will sustain them.
Greatness involves risk.
In any great story, there is a challenge to overcome, there is a protagonist who cannot remain static if he or she is to be victorious; there are dangers involved.
There’s the rub. It is hard to allow our children to enter risky situations.
I’m about a year behind, but we just recently watched the Disney movie, Moana. When I first saw the previews, I had no interest in seeing it. It looked dark. It looked full of mystical spiritual undertones, it had a demigod as a main character, and it included reincarnation and necromancy.
Then it came on Netflix. Long story short, we watched it as a family and–we loved it.
We were thrilled when Moana discovered her heritage as one descended from voyagers with hearts of adventure. Our hearts swelled when she returned from her quest, saving all the people on the island, and coming into her own as a genuine proven leader, ready to take her place in a long line of chiefs.
(Forgive me for spoiling the plot of the movie, but really, odds are if you have kids you’ve either already seen it or aren’t planning to, so I’m not that worried about it. And yes, we did use it as an opportunity to compare and contrast the spirituality portrayed and the gospel.)
What challenged me most in this story was the portrayal of Moana’s parents. She is constantly drawn to the ocean, even as a toddler. Her father, the Chief, a loving, protective man, prohibits her from going into the ocean or learning to sail. He says that the island has everything they need; all the fish come to the lagoons, and we don’t need to go into the open waters. Until the island is plagued by rot and there are no fish in the lagoons.
This young girl of theirs has a yearning for adventure, and much like Neo in The Matrix, or Esther in the king of Persia’s harem, Moana is chosen with a purpose to fulfill, she’s in a position to accomplish it, and has a great opportunity to make a difference for her community. But her parents, we learn in backstory, were so wounded by the ocean that they struggle with letting their daughter pursue her calling–which involves their greatest fear. Sadly, they never overcome their fear to become dynamic characters in the story; they are left behind and likely fear the worst, until their daughter returns victorious.
I would argue that, if we desire to see greatness in our children, rather than balking at the risk, our place is to say, like Mordecai, “Perhaps you are here for such a time as this.” I don’t know what he did in private a few hours after Esther said, “I will do as you say, and if I perish, I perish.” I’m sure he wondered if he was right, but to his credit, he did not run back, exclaiming, “No, no, let’s find a safer way! I can’t let you do this.”
I’m challenged to question my own motives.
Sam and I have been binge-watching a TV series that came out a few years ago about a family who is spying undercover. Their children don’t know about their parents’ espionage profession, and it begins to occur to their employers that their teenage daughter may be a good candidate to follow in their footsteps.
These parents are in the tension of weighing the benefit–she could do great things–with the cost: she will be in their line of work and there’s too much risk. What will they choose? And will she voluntarily choose their profession or will she do something “normal” and “safe.” (I don’t know; we haven’t gotten to that season yet.)
Could it be that when we are faced with the choices our children will make, we are tempted to hold our children back, sometimes it is because we care not about their hearts, but we are protecting our own?
We certainly don’t want them to be endangered in any way, we do not want them to experience pain, or worst of all, to lose them.
But could we be trying to protect ourselves from pain, trouble, stress, and worry?
What do we do, as parents of children who belong to God, when our kids are beginning to grow and pursue their callings?
Obviously, I’m not saying we should let our children walk blindly into dangerous situations, or withhold counsel, or let them go after every hairbrained dream.
We absolutely must hear the Lord in seeking His will for our families, including our children. We must also trust that the Holy Spirit is involved with our children, and orchestrates the environment that they live in.
Our desire for our children’s safety cannot outweigh our desire that they would fulfill their purpose.
Their hearts should be of greatest value; if we cloister and coddle them, their hearts are at risk for becoming sour and cynical toward us and our faith. Similarly, our desire for our own preferences and comfort cannot outweigh our intention to follow Jesus and His purpose. Even if it means potential for difficulty, danger, and trouble–even for our children.
It is imperative that we equip our children with the tools and the relational faith to walk with the Lord in every situation, small or great.
At the root of it, this makes us examine ourselves and ask the Lord for grace to steward the gift of our families.
As kingdom people, we must resolve to pursue the great adventure of God’s mission, with our children.