Our Covenant Children - Chris Tibbetts

 

 

It was around 11 o’clock on a sunny, midweek day in February — more springlike than winter in Florida — and I had made a run for it.  I had taken the backroads, hoping to go unnoticed, as much as I could driving a cherry red Eagle Talon.  Had I become too cavalier?  No.  I had been confident, and confidence is what seals the victory.  I had even waved nonchalantly to the vice principal as I walked to my car and drove away from my high school.  Confidence had sealed the victory.  I was a good kid.  I had a good family.  Good kids from good families don’t do things wrong.  

 

The backroads worked, mostly.  The two-lane scenic “highway” through the orange groves didn’t have much oncoming traffic — but, unfortunately, uncharacteristically, completely unpredictably — it did have my mom, driving to work late that day.  I noticed her car before she noticed mine, and just in time to shelter my face, as much as one can behind a windshield.  Confidence is what seals the victory.  I drove on.  Half-believing, half wishing-to-believe, what ultimately proved to be true.  My mom had not noticed me.  Confidence had sealed the victory. 

 

The rest of the drive went smoothly, though the pounding of my heart had not quite settled from my close encounter.  When I arrived at my home, I parked my car in the back yard, so as not to raise suspicion from the neighbors. I had skipped school.  I had gone in the morning, attended a class or two, and then hopped in my car and left.  I don’t remember why — perhaps I had a homework assignment due that wasn’t done, perhaps I had no reason at all.  I had skipped school.  Simply because it was there to be skipped.  Good kids from good families don’t do things wrong.  Everyone knows that.

 

My day did not end as I had planned, if I had even planned at all.  A little over an hour into my truancy, the front door of my house opened.  The entrant proceeded with intention, and that intention was to determine why his sixteen year old son was not in school.  Our next door neighbor had noticed my car parked behind the house and he had notified my father immediately.  My neighbor, who knew I was a good kid and who knew I had a good family, had known I was up to no good.  His confidence had sealed his victory. 

 

It’s been decades since that February afternoon, but I still remember the awkward reckoning I had with my father that day.  The misplaced bravado, affirming my deviance, that had vaporized in the instant the front door of my house opened. It’s been decades since that February afternoon, but I still reflect favorably upon what transpired that day.  My neighbor, a Christian man who had done mission work in Honduras, who had known me since infancy, had undertaken with my parents an informal responsibility for the nurture of their children.  He had been an extra set of eyes, an extra voice, and an extra heart concerned for mine.  He was not concerned about stepping on my parent’s toes or bringing embarrassment (and offense!) on them by shining a light on their child’s misbehavior.  He was concerned for me, for them, and for our good.  I am thankful that he was.  

 

As my wife and I raise children of our own, I am frequently reminded that we cannot directly supervise all that they do.  We selectively invite others into the theater of our work — teachers, babysitters, other parents.  Among the most significant of these invitees, however, should be our covenant church family.  Those who have stood at our child’s baptism.  Those who have heard our confession that our child is a sinner, in need of the cleansing blood of Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit.  Those who have heard us claim God’s covenant promises on our child’s behalf.  Those who who have heard us covenant and promise, in humble reliance on the grace of God to bring up our child to love God and to serve Him, to the end that our child may come to commit his or her life to Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior.  Our covenant church family, members of the congregation, who have stood at our child’s baptism, signifying their commitment to undertake with us the covenant responsibility for the Christian nurture of our child.  May we as parents welcome their advocacy, their partnership, their pursuit of our child’s good.  

 

Unfortunately, though, rather than welcoming advocacy, partnership, and the pursuit of our child’s good, we as parents, often build barriers against those protections.  We build walls out of our pride as a buffer around their transgressions.  Our child is a good kid, our family is a good family.  Any hint to the contrary is an offense, an insult, an embarrassment — especially if it’s known within the church.  Perhaps we are sensitive to the senior saint who seems downright eager to correct even the slightest step outside the lines.  Perhaps we are sensitive to the parent within our peer group who notices our child walking dangerously close to the edge of grave sin, while theirs appears to be flawless.  Perhaps, though, we are sensitive to any help and corrective suggestion, because of how it reflects on us.  Perhaps others have sensed our sensitivities, and become hesitant to honor their commitment to undertake with us the Christian nurture of our child.  Christians, your children need you and they need their church.  Your confidence in the inherent goodness of your child, will not seal their victory.  Your confidence in the goodness of your family — or at least, that it appears good —will not bring your child up to love God and to serve Him.

 

Be mindful, be aware, that even when it’s unpleasant to hear, God has given you a fellowship of  brothers and sisters, who sincerely care for and love your children.  That is a blessing of being in the body of Christ, for both you and your child.  There will be times that you receive critique which is intended to harm you rather than help your child, and you will obviously need discernment in how to handle those situations.  At other times, the helpful input you receive may still be visibly shaded by the depravity of the one speaking, but so, too, may be our receipt of it.  Indeed, our pride is tender, it is raw, it is sensitive, and our children are often an extension of it.  We must be careful that we do not build such strong fortifications around our pride, that we diminish the covenant blessings God has designed for us, our children, and His church.  Be humble to receive the input — to invite the input — the assistance, the love for our children, even when it’s difficult to hear, even when we feel that it impugns our parenting.  Because good kids from good families do do things wrong.  Everyone knows that.