Humble Pie

Since we have these promises, dear friends, let us purify ourselves from everything that contaminates body and spirit, perfecting holiness out of reverence for God.

2 CORINTHIANS 7:1

OUR HOUSE HAS THREE LEVELS. AMAZINGLY, WHEN THE PHONE rings, any available phone seems always at least two levels away—even if I’m on the middle floor! That may sound impossible, physics-wise, but, you see, I always guess wrong; I run downstairs, thinking that’s where the phones are, only to discover they’re all on the top floor, which means I have to go downstairs one flight and upstairs two flights. If I guess upstairs, the phones will almost certainly all be downstairs, tucked conveniently under the couch cushions or thoughtfully kicked under the computer desk.

Oh, and all this running has to be completed within four rings.

I got so frustrated over this seemingly immutable law that I bought five phones (three cordless and two stationary) to cover our three levels. Did you catch that? Five phones, three levels. I figured if I bought enough phones, eventually one of them would have to remain on each level.

But no! We regularly miss calls because all the cordless phones somehow find themselves in the same corner, buried under a pile of laundry or a kid’s gym bag. Just last weekend, during a garage sale, a woman asked to borrow our phone. It took me almost ten minutes to locate a single one I could carry outside. I eventually found two cordless phones in one unnamed child’s bedroom—one phone jammed between the wall and the back of her bed, the other buried under a huge cabinet. Of course, she had “no idea” who put them there.

One afternoon, after missing yet another call following a mad dash up the stairs, my frustration reached a breaking point. “Look,” I complained to my wife and kids, “we have at least one phone for each floor. How difficult is it to leave the phone on the floor where you found it? Huh? How difficult is that? This is the black phone. It stays on this floor!”

“Gary,” Lisa said, “you were the last one to use that phone. Remember? You had a call about a half hour ago, and you took it upstairs where it was quieter. You’re the one who left it upstairs.”

Boy, the kids had a good laugh about that one—and I could say nothing in my defense. Lisa had caught me red-handed.

As parents, it is so easy to act as though we never make mistakes, as though we have arrived and only our children need to get in line and then family life will be so much more pleasant. Instead of focusing on “purifying ourselves,” to use Paul’s language, we want to purify him or her.

It’s somewhat of an occupational hazard of parenting to arrogantly forget that God is working on all of us. While it surely is our job to train our children, we must not forget that we need training too. We’re not perfect role models sent to straighten out our kids; we’re a family of sinners, all of whom are in need of encouragement and instruction as we seek God’s grace to grow in mercy.

The Bible describes character growth as an active, lifelong pursuit. Paul wrote to the Corinthians that we are called to a process of “perfecting holiness” (2 Corinthians 7:1, emphasis added). When we act as though we’ve arrived, we model to our children that spiritual growth is a passing phase rather than a call that orders our entire lives. I love Andrew Murray’s take on this: “As long as we are content with just enough religion to save ourselves and our children, we must not be surprised if they remain unsaved. It is only as we seek to be filled with the Spirit and to have our whole life sacrificed for the Kingdom, that we may count on the blessing of successful spiritual training for our children.”^a

I want my kids to see me growing day by day. I want to model to them the dynamic reality of a heart seized by God that is being molded and transformed right in front of their eyes. That reality begins with an admission that I’m a work in progress, and it continues when I recognize that, while I have authority as the parent, I’m also their brother in Christ. God is using them to teach me as I teach them. Remember, Jesus placed a child in front of the adults when he said, “This is your role model to enter the kingdom of God” (Matthew 18:3–4, personal paraphrase).

Yeah, I had a good slice of humble pie that day. But spiritually speaking, it was one of the best meals I’ve had in years.

This week, let’s model the process of “perfecting holiness.” Let’s stop looking only at where our children fall short, and start looking at purifying ourselves. Let’s allow our kids to witness firsthand how God shapes a soul, and thereby teach them what it really means to be filled, continually filled, with God’s Holy Spirit.

Heavenly Father, thank you for the grace that allows us to freely admit where we fall short. Give us hearts that desire to “perfect” holiness, and eyes that are ever open to the lessons you want to teach us in the daily course of family life. In Jesus’ name, amen.