Parenting

Parenting as Resistance: A Post-MLK Day Reflection

Last week I picked up Ruby, our 6-year old, from school and she immediately burst into questions about Martin Luther King Jr. A portion of our conversation went like this:

Ruby:Daddy, did you know that white people used to not let black people drink from their water fountains or shop in their stores or ride on their buses?” 

Me: “Yep, it’s terrible. How does that make you feel?”

Ruby:Really sad. Why would people do that just because they look different?”

Me:Because people are often scared of people who look or think different than they do. And some people think they are better because of the color of their skin.

Ruby:Did you hear about the man who said that we shouldn’t do that anymore? We are going to celebrate his birthday next Monday.”

Me:Yep, his name was Martin Luther King Jr and he was a peacemaker who followed Jesus.”

Ruby:We need to celebrate his birthday more often by doing what he said.” 

I was undone. Both with pride for the way my daughter was developing and disgust at the evil of our shared history in this country. 

A few days ago, some of our dear friends hosted an interactive MLK party where we read parts of his speeches, reflected on the significance of his prophetic work and witness, lamented our broken past (and present) and sang songs of hopeful protest. 

Last month, I walked the streets of Montgomery, Alabama to study the history of slavery, racism and white supremacy in our country and learn from Bryan Stevenson of the Equal Justice Initiative who is actively working to heal the deep wounds in our country. As we stood in a building that once held African slaves in chains between their auctioning to the highest white, European bidder, we were invited into the history of systemic racism in the form of slavery, lynching, segregation/Jim Crow and mass incarceration. 

A couple months before that, I found myself sharing and praying at the memorial service of Alfred Olango on the streets of my own city (San Diego) alongside the family of this unarmed black man killed by the police. The pain, misunderstanding and distrust was palpable. 

Two years before that, like Joshua around Jericho, I marched with faith leaders in NYC after the murder of Eric Garner (who famously said, “I can’t breath,” while being choked by a police officer) pleading for God to tear down the walls of racism and injustice that hold us captive. 

I’m no hero, but I feel as though I’m learning about and from those who are. Her are a few learning’s that have risen to the surface. 

First, as a white man inheriting a narrative of dominance, I’ve had to confront how blind I’ve been to the plight of my friends of color and commit to a long, disorienting journey of (re)learning. Second, I’ve been deeply moved by the active nonviolent resistance put on display by black organizers for decades in pursuit of racial justice and equality. It is there that I have not only seen the actions of Jesus, but the people Jesus most often described as understanding and inhabiting the kingdom of God. And, third, I’ve been convicted and inspired to share about both -- the ugly history and the beautiful peacemakers seeking to redeem it -- with our children. 

While my wife and I still have ALOT to learn in the parenting department, we are doing our best to stumble forward in a way that shapes our four littles in a way that reflects that of Jesus. We have found that when we expose, educate and invite our children to confront our broken past and build a new future, the act of parenting becomes a tangible form of resistance. It is resistance to perpetuating a narrative and life of apathy, privilege and violence. It is a resistance to the principalities and powers that promote the flourishing of a few at the expense of the many. At the same time, it is an opportunity to shape a generation that has learned from our mistakes and participates with God in healing our broken world. 

As white parents with plenty of privilege, here are a few ways we are working to understand our parenting as resistance:

Expose Our Kids to Injustice

As a parent, there is a temptation to isolate our kids from the injustices of our world. While requiring necessary discernment, I would argue that we need to more regularly expose our kids to injustice. Not only does it allow them to confront the brokenness of our world (and the ways we’ve contributed to it) while still under our care and guidance, it gifts them with the opportunity to see a reality beyond their own. Many kids are raised embedded in systems, structures and everyday realities of injustice, so it is only in our isolated privilege that we “choose” to expose our kids to injustice. As followers of Jesus, we often see God’s best work unfolding in and among those on the underside of power. Not only was this the reality of Jesus, it was the very nature of the way he described the kingdom of God. If we don’t accompany our kids into realities of pain and suffering, they miss an opportunity to meet Jesus in the lives of those often dismissed by society at large. 

Educate on the Good and the Bad

It’s easy to teach our kiddos all the good stuff of our history. Or, to twist the “bad” stuff of our past to make it sound “good.” Not only is that incomplete (or even untrue), it short-circuits their formation and perpetuates harmful narratives. In preparation for MLK Day, we read to our kids about Rosa Parks and talked about why black people were treated badly by white people. We watched Kid President who talked about MLK and the tragedy of his assassination. We opened up space for them to ask hard questions, which as a parent, is both terrifying and thrilling. If we stigmatize the hard questions as “out of bounds,” they will either ask someone else or get more curious on their own. We’re not big fans of either of those options. 

Invite Them Into a Story Worth Living

We are adamant about not only helping our kids identify what they are against, but inviting them into a life that reflects what they are for. We need to invite them into story that is shaped by an enemy-loving God (Jesus) and sustained by enemy-loving people (Church). In short, we want them to identify with our global family by following a Jesus who crossed every kind of border and boundary as part of God’s mission of reconciliation. We don’t want them to be peacekeepers who embrace the status quo, but peacemakers who upset the status quo for the sake of restoring what is broken. To be “peacemakers” has now become our kiddos greatest aspiration and we talk about what that looked like for them each day on the way home from school. 

This is not a time to sit on the sidelines in silence. It’s the moment we must follow Jesus into the middle of our broken story to stand with and alongside those who have been abused and sidelined in our society. For those of us with influence in and among the next generation (not only biological parents!), parenting may be both our best resistance to the evil and best opportunity to usher in the good. 

 

The Opportunity of Raising Kids in This Crazy World

kidsHaving spent the last couple days getting solo time with my kiddos, I’ve never been more convinced that the way we raise the next generation will be our greatest contribution to healing a broken world. The stakes are high. 

Let’s not shelter our kids, but invite them into the beautiful and broken realities of our world.

Let’s not hide them from the darkness, but accompany them into the midst of it.

Let’s teach them to lead with curiosity, ask great questions and be discontent with the status quo.

Let’s help them not be color blind, but color competent. 

Let’s give them the gift of community that keep them rooted in an interdependent network of relationships and specific place that shapes their view of God and others. 

Let’s teach them to have their lives marked by what they’re for rather than what they’re against. 

Let’s teach them to identify their inherited privilege and choose to leverage or give it away for the flourishing of those who don’t have it. 

Let’s give them the freedom to question, doubt and wrestle with their faith and inherited narratives.

Let’s create a safe space for them to identify our blind spots and help us reframe, reform and renew the stories we tell ourselves. 

Most importantly, let’s live the kind of lives we would want our kids to live by not only passing along a set of ideals, but modeling a set of practices in every day life. 

And, in the end, when we inevitably screw up, may we have the kind of grace on ourselves as has been given to us. 

This is a our best “weapon” against the pain, violence and division of our world.

Raising Girls in the Image of a Male God?

Here is a guest post by my favorite person in the world; Jan Huckins (my wife). I learn from and am challenged by her everyday, so I’m thrilled she put pen to paper to offer up this incredibly important piece to us all. She is often so busy living the life I talk about that she doesn’t have time to do this silly blog stuff…

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At seven months pregnant, I remember walk-waddling through the narrow, congested streets of the Old City of Jerusalem as it brimmed with life, scent and color. Between my protruding baby bump and the wildly hospitable shopkeepers, I was regularly stopped and asked, “It is a boy?” Those who didn’t know English as well would just say, “Boy?!”

Each time I would answer, “No, just a sweet little girl,” and each time their eyebrows would fall in a look of pity and say, “Oh well, she’ll be a helper.” This became such a common question that before they could ask, I nearly started responding, “I’m having a girl and she’ll be an amazing helper!”

This encounter in blatant gender preference led down an eye opening and transformational path where it became clear that this reality wasn’t reserved to the Middle East, but extended around the globe. As a mother of three precious girls, my experience in the Middle East -- and the learnings that followed -- have made me cling even more to how much I value raising girls.

Having been born in the early 80’s, I loved listening to Adventures in Odyssey, knew every Keith Green song, believed every word out the mouth of my male pastor and youth pastor, supported our predominately male military and pledged my allegiance to our male presidents as we watched males play all the professional sports that ever made it to our TV screen.

It wasn’t that any of these men were inherently wrong or bad, it’s that I rarely ever had the opportunity to be exposed to females with significant influence. And when I did, it was often in our shared attempt to unpack Proverbs 31 and its implications on our biblical womanhood. I would patiently wait for my “Todd” (Christy Miller series) to be my spiritual leader and finally bring me to completion.

When I closed my eyes in church, I would always envision God being in the form of a loving and accepting father. Again, this is a good and beautiful vision, but I’ve had to begin asking the questions, “Is this the only image of God that is acceptable and true? Does seeing God only as male somehow lessen the value and significance of women who were also created in God’s image?”

As I continually wrestle through these questions while raising three girls, the implications of our image of God has become much more tangible. Will my husband and I only introduce our children to a male image of God or begin to offer a more nuanced picture of the One we follow?

For the last three decades the male pronoun of God is all I’ve ever known, but that won’t be the story for our girls. It’d be like living your whole life only knowing and loving the sun but not discovering the moon and all the purpose and glory it brings.

When I think of the image of God as mother, I think of my mother-in-law in silent strength next to women as they navigate the trauma of cancer. I think of our local midwife who has empowered and accompanied the women in our community through the beauty and challenge of childbirth. I think of the single moms who are heroically raising their kids against all odds. I think of my friends who are yearning for children of their own even as they celebrate the new life of those around them. I think of my community of women who come around soon-to-be mothers to prepare and champion their efforts during labor. I think of my own mother who gives herself to the flourishing of societies’ marginalized as a way to reassign them dignity.

These experiences have given me an expanded image of who God is, but in ways I never thought possible. They are re-birthing a vision of life, hope and liberation.

I have nothing against men and am incredibly grateful for my present, involved, and loving husband. In fact, I don’t have anything I’m trying to prove or argue. I simply want Ruby, Rosie and Lou to believe in a gospel story that celebrates both the sun and the moon. And in doing so, maybe my girls won’t only find fulfillment as wives and mothers, but as liberated, compassionate and strong girls who see their own faces in the One who gave birth to all creation.

Embracing the Greatest Challenge of My Life as Opportunity

IMG_2280Having taken paternity leave with the arrival of our twins, I haven’t “worked” in nearly two months. With that said, there has been no time for reading deep, reflective books on spiritually. No time to engage world issues. No time to be active and seek the healing of systemic injustices in our neighborhood.

No, there has been time for one thing and one thing only; being a dad

If I’m honest, it’s been a struggle. The same exhausting, under appreciated, sleepless, messy and relentless grind of parenting four kids, all of whom are four years old or younger. There are certainly moments of joy, pride and gratitude, but they are far less frequent than the ones of discouragement and delirium. 

In the midst of the fog, I had a bit of an epiphany a couple weeks ago. I found myself thinking about how I would find time for spiritual practices to be reintegrated into my life and dreaming about the intellectual growth I would experience when I go back to “work.” It was as though I was telling myself, “If you just survive this season, then you can finally get back to attending to your spirituality and formation.” 

This is when the epiphany hit; If I don’t connect my parenting with my spirituality and formation, I’m missing out on potentially the most important season of my discipleship journey. 

Changing diapers at 3am = Opportunity to choose selfless sacrifice. 

Responding to yet another 2 year old melt down = Opportunity to model grace and understanding.

Chaos of everyday life = Opportunity to embrace and live into an everyday spirituality.

Weeks/months between dates with my wife = Opportunity for me to get creative in what love and intentionality look like. 

These are all opportunities for me to choose to grow in my personal formation and live more like the One I follow. I can’t see these as hurdles to jump so I can then get back to my spirituality and formation. No, these are the very experiences that are forming me into who I am created to be. To be fully human. To be connected to the gift of life that is pulsating in every moment of everyday. To choose to live a life of self-sacrifice for the flourishing of others. 

I don’t have this figured out in the least, but I do want to give it a shot. I don’t have to wait. We don’t have to wait. We just have to wake up to what is right in front of us and be fully present there.

Maybe that is what love looks like and what the gift of discipleship means in the midst of the mundane and unglamorous realities of daily life.

 

 

To My Four Kids, From Dad

IMG_1571After five days in the hospital filled with overwhelming joy, paralyzing fear and complete exhaustion in the wake of the birth of our twins, I finally found a moment to walk outside the florescent lights and sit under the bright moon. Sitting on a small patch of grass outside the hospital doors, the reality of being a father to four kids finally hit me. 

I was both overwhelmed and overjoyed by the gift and responsibility of raising four kids in a world so desperately in need of mustard seeds of hope that one day blossom into healing and beauty.

As I sit in relative comfort and begin to dream big dreams for my kids, I was struck by the reality that most father’s around the globe are forced to welcome their kids into a world where there is no “ladder” to climb because it has been knocked out from under them by broken systems that are breaking people. 

A world where many kids are born into families fleeing violent persecution and being nursed on the trauma of war in battered refugee camps; places where the thought of hope is a distant second to simply fighting to survive.

A world where one’s value is more closely associated with gender (male) than with the beautiful uniqueness inherent in every new life.  

But it is also a world pregnant with possibilities. A world where former enemies move beyond their past, share tables and begin to imagine a future together. 

A world where the blossoms of new life begin to sprout in the shadowy corners of forgotten neighborhoods.  

A world where the diversity of God’s kingdom begins to awaken our eyes and hearts to the new world God is making. 

It is in this world -- a world that is both beautiful and broken -- that I offer this prayer over my four kids. 

May you see the humanity, dignity and image of God in everyone. Regardless of documentation, orientation or association, may you choose to see the face of Jesus in all those put in your path. May you see those who are different than you not through the lens of judgment, but with a spirit of curiosity and posture of invitation. 

May you immerse into the the muck and messiness of everyday life seeking to understand rather than be understood. May you move toward broken people and places catalyzed by hope rather than paralyzed by fear. And, finally, as you move deeper into relationship with these people and places, may you stick around for the long haul offering radical presence in a world of hurry.  

My dear ones, may your relative comfort and inherited privilege not lead to complacency, but instead be used to contend for the flourishing of others. May you be willing to sacrifice your reputation, finances and time in order to stand in front of any bulldozer that is flattening people. Like the Jesus we follow, may you return evil with good and choose not to get even, but get creative in love.  

May you lead out of your identity as ones first and foremost loved by God, so you can give yourselves fully to God and others. If you get anything, please get this: your identity is not based on what you do, but who you are. All is grace dear ones and you are God’s beloved. As such, your mother and me will always love you, contend for you, pray for you and stand with you no matter what choices you make or what you “do” or don’t do.  

Whether you join God’s mission of reconciliation in the halls of power or the back allys of forgotten neighborhoods, may you see and participate in the restoration made real in Jesus death and resurrection. May you taste, feel, see and experience a Kingdom where the last will be first and the first will be last. For it is there that love lives. 

And, day in and day out, may we be parents who live and model the kind of lives we are inviting you to live. 

Much love to each of you; Ruby, Rosie, Hank & Lou. 

Dad

 

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