A standard-size apple tree takes up to eight years to produce apples. Farmers will observe all kinds of growth during those eight years, but one thing they don’t look for is mature fruit.
As parents, we raise little apple trees, souls that bear fruit only with time and patience. Yet how often do we, unlike the farmer, expect to find mature fruit too early as we scrutinize our children for signs of spiritual growth? For all our efforts to train our children well — opening God’s word, bowing in prayer, and worshiping with God’s people — we often find something is missing in the middle of it all: peace of mind.
It’s hard to resist analyzing our children, as though watching every movement of their bodies will give us a window into their souls. Do they close their eyes during prayer, belt out “Amazing Grace,” and love Sunday worship? Or do they gaze out the window during Bible reading, shyly abstain from praying for a meal, or seem hesitant about baptism? We watch them closely, rarely able to relax, often on the lookout for two fearful enemies: apostasy and legalism.
When either of these two fears dominates our hearts, we parents can suddenly feel uncertain about how far we can lead our children and when we should leave them to pursue God on their own. Fear of apostasy prompts us to double down on the habits of grace — more Bible, more church, more prayer. Surely these will bring the growth we worry is lacking. Fear of legalism pulls us back — no Bible-reading prompts or parent-initiated prayers, lest duty drive away delight.
Our methods change in response to our fears, as we slip into thinking that our actions automatically determine outcomes, either good or bad. But a fresh surrender to the Author of growth and his process of growth calms our fears and clarifies our purpose as we guide our children in habits of grace.
Growth as Gift
Creation and divine revelation both declare that growth, like life, comes from God (Psalm 104:14; 1 Corinthians 3:6). What parent has not struggled with this glorious reality? Just as we would do anything within our means to protect our children from physical death, so we long to rescue them from spiritual death. The truth is, we ultimately cannot save them from either danger. The “habits of grace” (or spiritual disciplines) are means of God’s grace, to be sure, but they are not in themselves saving grace. Salvation is a free gift of God that parents cannot hinder or hasten in any final sense (Ephesians 2:8–9).
Therefore, our consistent posture as parents must be one of faith-filled surrender: God’s grace works according to God’s will, not ours. Souls are his gardens, not our factories. Habits of grace are not inputs that guarantee certain outputs, like the design for a 3D-printed object. They are more like seeds we plant and water in hopes that God will give the growth (1 Corinthians 3:6–7). And growth, if granted, will likely start small — so small that it might be imperceptible to us.
If I expect my sapling to evidence the full-grown fruit of a mature Christian, at best I will be needlessly discouraged, and at worst I might discourage my child. Like trees, children grow slowly, both physically and spiritually, and our expectations should match God’s patient plan for their growth. They will speak like children, reason like children, and act in childish ways (1 Corinthians 13:11). We should expect their hearts to be equally childlike. And yet their affections for God, small as they may be, are worthy of our thanks and praise, just as we praise God for their growing lungs and limbs.
Adjusting to the reality of organic growth prompts us to lay aside personal agendas for our kids, adopting instead the surrender and patience of a gardener. Jesus’s teaching gives us two beautiful purposes to pursue as we nurture our growing saplings through habits of grace: Bring them near and give them support.
Bring Them Near
In Mark 10:14, the disciples rebuke a group of parents who bring their children to Jesus. In response, Jesus rebukes his disciples: “Let the children come to me; do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of God.” These parents were doing the right thing. There is nothing about children that makes them unable to come to Jesus and find their treasure in him. In fact, children clearly evidence what all of us need: a humble, needy, believing heart. Rather than asking them to come back when they are full-grown, Jesus takes these children into his arms, lays his hands on them, and blesses them (verse 16).
As post-ascension parents, we cannot bring our children physically before Jesus, who sits now at the right hand of the Father, but we can still bring them near to him. We saturate them in God’s word because it bears witness to the beauty and glory of Jesus (John 5:39). We kneel beside them in prayer to respond to the One whose words have filled us with joy (John 15:11). We welcome them to the local church to hear Jesus praised and proclaimed as the true bread and true drink (John 6:32, 55). Although we have no power over outcomes, George Herbert reminds us that
Who goeth in the way which Christ hath gone
Is much more sure to meet with him, than one
That travelleth by-ways. (“Lent”)
Where else will our children meet Jesus but in his word, in prayer, and with his people? Just like those first-century parents, we bring them as near to Jesus as we can in hope that he will touch them and bless them.
Give Them Support
In order to grow strong and healthy, apple trees require full sun and regular watering. Growers use stakes to straighten growth and tree guards to protect from harsh weather and hungry animals. They prune branches and fertilize soil. In what Eugene Peterson dubs “the manure story,” Jesus describes much the same thing for our souls (As Kingfishers Catch Fire, 250).
In Luke 13:6, Jesus introduces us to a frustrated farmer, axe in hand, ready to cut down a barren fig tree. But the vinedresser slows him down. “Sir, let it alone this year also, until I dig around it and put on manure. Then if it should bear fruit next year, well and good; but if not, you can cut it down” (Luke 13:8-9). Too often, I have been in the shoes of the frustrated farmer, prematurely pronouncing the tree barren. Sometimes I was looking for mature fruit in a still-growing child. And sometimes I forgot that every child needs time and support.
To grow straight and one day bear fruit, our children need our help. We support their habit of Bible reading, just as stakes support a small tree, by crafting a Bible-reading plan measured to their age and maturity and by helping them carve out the time needed for this habit. We give them words to pray, enriching the soil of their prayers, just as fertilizer enriches the soil of a garden. We lean into our local church community so that our children can experience the thriving orchard of the body of Christ. Far from legalistic rules, these structures provide the loving support necessary for healthy growth.
Our children, even our teens, do not automatically pursue these habits on their own, but that does not necessarily mean the tree is barren. Just as we cannot expect a sapling to bear the weight of a tree house, we cannot expect the formation of a forty-year-old in the life of a fourteen-year-old. Gradually, these supports will be taken away, as we witness increasing strength and joy in our growing kids by God’s grace and in his time. Eugene Peterson wisely reminds us, “Manure is not a quick fix. It has no immediate result. It is going to take a long time to see if it makes any difference” (253). Too often, we are in a hurry when God is not (2 Peter 3:9). What a joy to slow down, pick up our shovel again, and keep adding manure to the soil.
Parents as Gardeners
God instructs fathers to bring up children “in the discipline and instruction of the Lord,” and mothers are their God-given helpers in this task (Ephesians 6:4). We cannot save them, but we are called to nurture them. Surrendering to God’s sovereign freedom and our own God-given limits restores the peace our hearts often lack. We are free to bring these small plants into the sunshine of Jesus’s presence with all the hope of a gardener, rather than the demands of a would-be god. No longer seeking to control the outcomes, we move out of the factory of fear-filled technique into the garden of faith-filled training — bringing them near, giving them support, and asking God to bless the harvest.
Desiring God