When a pair of hand-me-down flip-flops recently arrived in the mail, my 4-year-old son gleefully announced they had Spider-Man, Superman, Iron Man, and Captain America on them. I looked at him quizzically. How did he know the names of these characters—some I didn’t even know? We haven’t watched their movies, read their books, or purchased their toys. When I asked him where he learned about these superheroes, he shrugged and said, “Everybody knows about these guys, Mama!”
He’s not wrong. Superhero movies, comics, and clothes generate billions of dollars worldwide, year after year. It’s easy to understand why. Good guys defeating bad guys and normal people who end up with supernatural skills and abilities—this is the inherent message our hearts long for, placed in us by a loving Creator. But if comic book superheroes are the only ones we’re showing our kids, we’re missing a beautiful opportunity.
Godly Models
A year ago, after talking with a friend who grew up reading missionary stories, I decided to introduce them to my kids. I purchased a handful of missionary biographies that lined up with the geography my oldest was studying that year—Egypt and China to start. And then, over lunch most days of the week, I read these biographies aloud to my children.
The biographies are chapter books, and they don’t have pictures. I wondered how much my 4-year-old would grasp, but I’ve learned that when I put food in front of them, my children will listen to almost anything I read.
We started with the life of Lillian Trasher, a single American woman who founded the first orphanage in Egypt. I’d never heard of her, but over the course of the two months that it took us to read her story in 10- and 20-minute increments, Trasher became one of my most treasured heroes of the faith. With a simplicity and tenacity that shocked me, she cared for thousands of children without any money of her own—and saw generations of those children follow Christ.
As the year continued, we read the biographies of Hudson Taylor, Mary Slessor, George Müller, Amy Carmichael, Paul Brand, and William Wilberforce. Each of these men and women has a wildly different story of faith and faithfulness, but the underlying message of every life was the same: Christ is worthy, and worth any cost we must pay.
The underlying message of every life was the same: Christ is worthy, and worth any cost we must pay.
For my modern, suburban kids who live a relatively easy life (and have modern, suburban parents), the choices of these missionaries have been both challenging and encouraging (1 Thess. 5:11). They’ve given us new models to think about when we consider what faithfulness might mean in our own lives—and that it might come with a higher cost than we often expect.
Gospel-Centered Conversations
Many of the men and women who became world-changing missionaries had inauspicious beginnings. Lillian Trasher was headed toward work in the business world as an artist. Hudson Taylor was uninterested in the things of God. Mary Slessor was a poor Irish girl who worked in the mills and had an alcoholic father. George Müller was an unbelieving thief. Amy Carmichael and Paul Brand both lost their fathers early in life.
For some, their biggest hurdle was unbelief. For others, their circumstances seemed impossible to overcome. But as we read their stories, the sovereignty of God was overwhelmingly apparent. The kids and I made connections between what each person had to overcome and how God was preparing him or her for the future. We talked about how he had plans for them all even when they couldn’t see it for themselves; we saw how God can make good come out of even the most painful situations. We discovered they didn’t give in to self-pity or bitterness and saw how that made all the difference as they learned to trust the Lord.
Gospel-centered conversations like these may come up in day-to-day life—and as parents, we should grasp hold of opportunities for rich reflections whenever we can. But apart from Scripture, I’ve found nothing as valuable for consistent, meaningful reflections on how to respond to life’s challenges than reading about the lives of these saints. Their stories help me “bring [my children] up in the training and instruction of the Lord” (Eph. 6:4, NIV) in a very practical way.
Real Power Team
My son, somewhat interested in Lillian Trasher’s biography, became immersed in Hudson Taylor’s. He often asked me to read more of the story long after lunch was over. One night before bed, he told me, “Mama, when I grow up I want to be a missionary to Egypt and to China, just like Lillian and Hudson.”
Apart from Scripture, I’ve found nothing as valuable for consistent, meaningful reflections on how to respond to life’s challenges than reading about the lives of these saints.
Months later, in the middle of George Müller’s biography, we read about how he received a visit from Hudson Taylor—and my son promptly lost his marbles at the lunch table.
He shouted, “What? Hudson Taylor and George Müller together?” My sweet boy dropped his sandwich and started pumping his fists as if he was ready to run a race or punch through a wall. “Are you joking, Mama? Hudson Taylor and George Müller were friends?” My son, not even 5 years old, had tears in his eyes. The thrill of it all rocketed through him because two of the most incredible people he’d ever heard about—who lived wildly different lives—got to meet and pray together. It was the meeting of worlds, as if Superman and Spider-Man had suddenly teamed up to become a power team.
But it was better than that. Because my son learned two of his heroes—men of faith—had teamed up more powerfully than any superheroes ever could: they supported and encouraged each other in gospel work. Although often half a world apart, they were united in spirit. They were partners in the gospel, comrades in the message of Christ.
Will my son become a missionary to an overseas country? I don’t know. But I do know these stories are shaping his heart, and he’s seeing in these men and women a commitment to Christ that’s worthy to be emulated and praised.
The Gospel Coalition