In the world but not of the world. It’s the classic line for
how Christians are to reconcile living out their faith with living in a fallen
world. It was the theme of our teaching at church this weekend with Daniel, a
young Jewish man taken political prisoner in Babylon, as our example. The
teacher pointed out Daniel’s purity—his faithfulness to the things of God—as
well as his proximity. Daniel didn’t try to escape the Babylonian culture. He
didn’t complain about it or rage against it. He lived right in the midst of it, took a stand when he needed to, and became a great leader with a faithful testimony.
As I raise my own young “Daniels,” I see lots of success in
the purity part—probably because that’s where 99 percent of my effort goes. My
children know the Bible better than any other book. They roam through the house
singing praise songs and turn up their noses at Katy Perry. They dress
conservatively and have no interest in the latest fads. They stay true to
themselves and are not the least bit swayed by the winds of their culture. These
are good things. Things I love. But what about proximity?
Am I teaching them to live in the world, or just to resist
it? Am I instilling vision in them to lead well in the world, or just to fight
against all that’s bad with it? Part of leading well is fighting and calling out what’s wrong. It is daring to take a
stand, even when it’s an unpopular stand. But we can plant ourselves so firmly
in what we believe is right that we will not move toward others who are
different. This seems to be the bigger issue with my kids. They know well how
to be “not of the world.” It’s the being in it part—being in it well—that needs some work.
We laid some groundwork by living at the shop and
experiencing the culture of the poor and the hurting and the addicted. Our commitment
to being involved with the poor will keep the kids around that part of “the
world,” but what about the suburbanites who wear bikinis and listen to rap and
party on the weekends? Will my children love them, too, or just avoid them like
the plague? Worse yet, will they feel compelled to judge them? In the midst of
all the other instruction, have I remembered to teach my kids that
self-righteousness is one of the ugliest sins going? And am I doing more than
teaching? Am I modeling for them how to love people who dress, pierce, worship, parent,
and vote differently than I do?
As an adult Christian, I feel the constant tension between
knowing when to stand up and fight and when to shut up and love, when to resist
the culture and when to engage with it. I have no regrets about focusing first with
my kids on how to be different, set apart, from the ways of the world and how
to cling always to the things of God. But before they leave this nest, I want
to be sure they also have the skills to discern which battles are worth
fighting and that they know those battles can often be won with humility,
kindness, and gentleness.
Help me, Lord, to teach my kids something that I'm so far from mastering myself.
