Gifts For The Journey
Little One was born in the Golden Fields, in a little thatched house amid the sunlit wheat. It was a happy home, and she delighted in the blessings of the land— sun warm on her face, wheat dancing in the light and mysterious under the moon, companions as happy and innocent as she was, and space—wide open space, great circles in the wheatfields where she threw off her shoes and danced until she felt that the sun had no more beauty or energy or light than she.
The houses scattered throughout the fields made something of a town, and in the center of the land was a place they called the Town Square. There was a market there, and a tree to climb, and a box to stand and preach or sing on.
It was there that Little One first saw him. A young man with mysterious, laughing eyes. When first she saw him he was playing with the children, and all their innocent joy was dancing in every movement he made. She could not take her eyes away from him.
That night she sat by the fire in her little home and watched the flames jump and settle again in orange tongues. After a little while she looked up and saw her father watching her. He was waiting. He could sense the question in the air.
“The young man in the marketplace,” she said to her father, “—who is he?” Her father looked gravely on her. “He is the Living One,” he said. “I think I should like to know him,” said Little One. “Then you will,” her father answered.
The wheat fields were harvested in late October, and November brought grey skies and light snow with it. Early in the morning, on a day cold enough to gather her breath and make it visible, Little One met the young man in a field. They stood face to face, and she knew that her life was about to change forever—that in some way, it already had.
“I want to be yours,” she said. “I know,” he answered. “How can I enter into your life?”
The young man looked away at the horizon where dark mountains loomed. “I am going away,” he said. “If you would be a part of my life, you must follow.”
The young man left the Golden Fields on the following day, taking Little One’s heart with him. She felt its absence as soon as he had gone, or perhaps it was his absence she felt... whatever it was, it ached inside her.
In the marketplace she heard an old man say that he had seen the Living One heading toward the mountains, and the people sighed and said they wished he would stay with them longer. They did not suspect that a part of Little One had gone with him, or that she was about to follow.
She said goodbye to her father and mother that night. They kissed her and blessed her, and they sent her away wrapped in a warm shawl that had been in the family since her great-greatgrandmother’s time. She left in the wee hours of the morning, while the sun was just beginning to cast its pale rays over the world.
—Excerpted from “Journey,” 2006, a short story by Rachel Starr Thomson
Think of every salvation allegory you’ve ever read. Do you notice a common thread? They all begin with leaving. Christian left the City of Destruction without his family. Much-Afraid left the valley and headed after the Shepherd— alone. The allegories have picked up on a practical truth. James and John left their father in his fishing boat. Paul encountered Jesus in a burst of light, hearing a voice no one else could. His experience severed him forever from the people he was with. We can’t get to heaven on someone else’s experience. For each of us, this is a journey that must be taken alone.
What does that mean for parents who want to send their children after God?
God can and should be worshipped in community, yet we are saved on an individual basis, and there is an aspect to our walk with Him that is always hidden and personal. This reality sometimes frightens me. I have eleven younger siblings; I want them all to follow God. I have no guarantees that they’ll do so. For parents, this must be even harder to face. We can’t save others, even our own children. We can’t guarantee the path they’ll take.
Yet, parents can lay a foundation in their children’s lives that will prepare them to meet, love, and follow God. Ultimately, we send our loved ones out to walk with God on their own. Yet, they needn’t go without our love to help them on the way.
I come from a strong spiritual heritage. I accepted Jesus when I was four or five and was always very earnest about following Him. I tried to witness to others. I read my Bible and could answer every question in Sunday School. But my journey didn’t really begin until my young teens, when I decided that my head-knowledge wasn’t enough. Unless God did something, I told Him, I was going to quit.
He did something—of course He did. He entered my life in a very powerful and personal way, and I was off on the greatest journey of my life. My parents had not been able to bring me to that point. God Himself had to do it. However, my parents gave me several gifts that have enriched my walk with God from the beginning.
First and foremost, they gave me an example. I knew that decisions should be made with prayer and in relation to God’s leading and Word. My parents made decisions this way. I saw them model God’s principles for marriage and family. I knew that God was real and that He would provide, even miraculously, if we trusted Him. The Bible was a topic of discussion around our home. We studied it together and discussed the way its principles applied to the world around us. And of course, they prayed for me. Once I began walking with the Lord, they trusted me enough to let me get out and follow Him in some unusual ways.
Second, they gave me a moral foundation. I really can’t emphasize this enough. The fact is, moral confusion muddies the waters when it comes to hearing from God. It carries into people’s lives even after they’re saved and does a lot of damage in the church. From a young age, I understood the world as moral place with black and white truths that apply to everyone.
This understanding did several things. It helped me understand that I was a sinner, because I believed sin was real and I could see it it in myself. It caused me to see righteousness as a good and beautiful thing, something we should want. And it allowed me to begin my walk with God without a huge cartload of regret and baggage. This is no credit to me. It is a gift, and one I am increasingly grateful for.
Third, they taught me the Bible. Until God entered my life the way He did, the verses I’d memorized and the stories I knew didn’t really hit home. But after He came in, the head knowledge I already had became a tremendous asset to me. When I sit in a Bible study with other believers, I realize how rare and precious this gift is. I can think about God’s Word as a whole. I can mentally compare passages and relate one story to another. I know how the Old Testament intersects with the New and how Jesus differed from all who came before Him.
Fourth, they plugged me into community. There are no perfect Christians, but there are a lot of people out there who are sincerely following God. You’ll find many of them in homeschool circles. You’ll find many others in unexpected places, and their differing backgrounds can open your eyes to the many ways in which God works.
Mom and Dad formed relationships with a lot of people. Some served as examples (good and bad). Others served as mentors or friends. We got involved with an international ministry when I was a young teen, and my years there remain the greatest influence on my spiritual walk outside of my family. I traveled and ministered with different people in varying places.
Today, the foundation my parents laid still supports me. Our relationship has morphed from one of teachers and child to that of fellow disciples who support each other, pray for each other, challenge each other, and follow God together. The personal element remains. My journey is my own. But with every step, I recognize the gifts my parents gave—and continue to give. I hope to do the same for my own children some day. I encourage you to do the same.