I think it’s safe to say that all of the families of Evangel Classical School want to raise up sturdy children. A great evidence of this is that they’ve chosen a school that also is trying to raise up sturdy children. That’s much of what it means to be a Raggant.
But since review is always in order, I’ll try to explain what I mean. We’re trying to be used by God to help grow stout image bearers who will be like oak trees with deep roots. Not many oak trees tremble with fear when a rainstorm is brewing on the horizon. They may even welcome it with relish. We want for trials that actually beset our Raggants to be about as common as lighting bolts that reduce an oak to charcoal. (That is, rare.)
An oak can be rained on, have its branches bent or crusted with ice, its bark carved with initials inside of hearts, and its acorns harvested and it just laughs at the days ahead like the Proverbs 31 woman.
We want that for our kids, but those sorts of kids come from certain sorts of parents. Is it reasonable to expect for our kids to be sturdy if we aren’t? And what does this look like? I’ll offer a few thoughts.
Sturdy parents are intentional. They work hard to be the sorts of people that they want their children to become. They know that discipleship is God’s chosen method for bringing the full number of His sheep into the fold, and that their children will probably become like them, for good or ill.
Sturdy parents are patient. They know that oaks don’t mature overnight. Lasting change tends to take time, and oak trees are to be preferred over blades of grass, even if maturity takes a longer time. We also can go about our work with optimism and joy since we serve a sovereign and good God.
Sturdy parents have their eyes on the horizon. A tall oak with his eyes in the upper branches is not concerned about trifling skirmishes about his knees if he can see an approaching horde of lumberjacks. We know that there are great challenges that await our children in the years ahead; the Latin chants and a reading drills and Omnibus discussions are the sparring sessions that will build the muscles that will protect their joints and render them effective in battle. Their homework assignments now are not themselves the point.
I’m praying for the parents of ECS to comprise a small cadre of likeminded, affectionate, jolly, and sturdy farmers who will lock arms with the teachers to help turn their children from supple saplings into sturdy oaks. Who knows? Perhaps one of our sturdy oaks will meet his glorified end as the next battering ram against the gates of hell.
This perspective will inform how we respond when our students are not faithful in their homework assignments, when there’s relational drama on the playground, or when a teacher sins against us. It’ll also inform how we respond when our children repent on their own, when they look for ways to bless their siblings, and when they spur one another on to love and good deeds. There’s no doubt that a growing oak enjoys sun, snow, rain, wind, and climbing ruffians dangling from his creaking limbs. So too with this parenting business. This is a long road, and may God make us intention, patient, thankful, and sturdy along the way.
Risus est bellum.