Why We Shouldn’t Teach Children that Jesus is Their Best Friend

 

A few days ago, I was in a meeting in which we were discussing creative ways to present Bible truths to children.  As we were each presenting our methods of telling the week’s Bible story to the kids, one of my fellow teachers said, “I just tell them that Jesus is their best friend.” I was very uncomfortable with this statement.  Let me explain…

Good Sentiment. Bad Theology

A W Tozer famously writes, “What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us.” If we believe this to be true, then we must be very careful to present the God of the Bible with utmost care and accuracy.  If we don’t teach our children to view God correctly from their very earliest years, their impressions of their Creator will be unbalanced at best... or heretical at worst. As parents and teachers, we need to take God’s reputation very seriously.    

In A Class of His Own

Yes, I want my son to feel loved and valued by God, but I don’t want God to be fully accessible to his small mind.  When my child thinks about God, I don’t want him to see the magnificence of God enveloped in a disheveled, skinned knee, gap-toothed buddy. God is wholly other--sui generis--unique, peculiar, in a class of his own--he is not limited to an elementary classroom.  When my child thinks of God, I want him to be awed by the wonder that this amazing being, whom he can’t fully understand, chose to come to earth and be bound in skin. He chose to live as a child who did skin his knees and lose his teeth but in a way that they never will--perfectly.  This perfect child grew to be a perfect man who became a perfect sacrifice. His amazing grace towards us should stir in us a mighty reverence for him.  

The Lion of Judah

Rather than tame what Revelation 5 calls The Lion of Judah by introducing him to our kids as a cuddly, snuggly pet, let’s approach his throne with Christ-earned confidence and fall on our knees in worship.  

Someday, maybe in the not-so-distant future, every knee will bow, and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.  So, let’s give our kids a solid foundation--and accurate theology--by looking on our great and glorious God with hearts full of joy and appropriate trepidation.  

In the words of Mrs. Beaver from the Chronicles of Narnia, “Course he isn’t safe.  But he’s good.”

Mother, behold your son. Son, behold your mother--a Good Friday Meditation

Near the cross of Jesus stood his mother, his mother’s sister, Mary the wife of Clopas, and Mary Magdalene. When Jesus saw his mother there, and the disciple whom he loved standing nearby, he said to her, “Woman, here is your son,” and to the disciple, “Here is your mother.” From that time on, this disciple took her into his home.  John 19:25-27

What was it like?  To see your firstborn on a cross? Making plans for your care with the last of his breath?  30 years ago, I had a baby boy, my firstborn.  Instantly, I loved him.  Did Mary feel that too?  What was she feeling as her son, just a little older than mine is now, died a horrific death as she watched, helpless? Reflecting on this passage, I put myself in her spot; I see the Lord Jesus as if he were my child. My baby. My heart.

I Carried You. I remember the night the angel told me I would carry the Son of God.  I was confused, scared... but satisfied.  What the angel said would happen.  I carried you in my womb and felt your kicks in my belly.  My body gave you life.

O God, my son, my precious one, hangs there naked, moaning. Do you hear him?  Are you carrying him now?

I Saw You Breathe. When you arrived on that starlit night, you took your first breath and let out a cry. Many nights after that, I would go in quietly just to see you breathe--your little chest rising and falling.  Then I would silently creep out, comforted by your abundant life.

O Lord, He is crying! His chest heaves as his life, my life, creeps out of him. Will he really breathe again?

I Held Your Hand. As a toddler, you would reach for me, chubby hands would hold my face.  I basked in your soft tenderness. After you played, I washed the dust out of the creases of those velvet hands. Oh that I might hold those bleeding hands now; that my kiss would make all well.

When they pierced his hands, Holy Father, the hammer resounded as if in victory. This is your son too, Lord. Why could it not be me?  

Your Hands Heal My Soul. But, it is with those same hands, now broken, that MY SOUL is tenderly healed.  My son, whose hands I held, bears the wrath of God for ME!.  It’s YOUR blood that washes away the dusty creases of my sin.

"My God, My God, why have you forsaken your Son? His suffering, his separation -- will bring salvation? But this way... this pain?"

Your Breath Gives Me Life. It is your body that breathes its last so that I will never die.  The warm breath I felt on my cheek now makes my chest rise and fall. When you silently creep out of this world, I gain abundant life. 

God, is this the sorrow you spoke of at first?  The sorrow I couldn’t see through the joy?  Please remind me that this is not the end.  He lived a life of perfection for you so he could die a death of ransom for me.

You Will Carry Me Home. It is You who carries me now.  What the angel said would happen.  When you were small I carried you, snuggled up close to my heart. Now I kick and cry but I cling to the hope of Shalom; I am confused and scared...but satisfied.  Your body gives me life.

I long to see you Lord, to join my son in forever. He will rise again, my Savior!  Bring shalom to greet us Lord; bring heaven to this broken place and peace to my broken heart. 

 

Make all things new!

Make all things new!

Make all things new!