What If He Doesn’t Believe?
by Melody Tan | 12 June 2024 |
As a Seventh-day Adventist Christian, married to a Seventh-day Adventist husband, we are raising our child exposed to Seventh-day Adventist beliefs and practices. My seven-year-old son currently believes in Jesus, regularly attends church with us, and always says a prayer before tucking into his vegetarian meal.
I have taught him to know he can always turn to God for help, wisdom, strength, and peace. He has even taken to praying whenever things seem insurmountable (for a seven-year-old).
And yet.
Last month, I wrote about my doubts and concerns about raising my child outside the Christian bubble. In the comments that ensued, some argued for the increased need to envelop a child in prayer and influence. Others advocated a less “fervent” approach for fear of inflicting religious trauma on a child.
The commonality in many of the comments lay in the presumption I expect my child to follow in my path, in my belief, in my practice. That he, too, would grow up to become a Seventh-day Adventist Christian.
To be fair, all my actions so far have certainly indicated that is what I expect. Why else would I teach him something if I don’t think he’d learn it, absorb it? Yes, there is a certain amount of hope (note: not expectation) but that has never been the motivation. My drive comes from the belief that it’s my version of a “good enough” (not “the best” and this is why) life.
And yet.
Seventh-day Adventists have a unique way of viewing themselves. We like to call ourselves the “remnant church,” believing we are the ones who hold “the truth.”
While I’m not disputing the wonderful theological insights we’ve made and the illuminating understanding of faith, I fear our inflated sense of self-importance may close us off to the rest of the world.
Yes, the world is corrupt and corruptible. The world is filled with sin. The world has questionable practices that go against our principles, morals, and ethics.
Since I made the decision some 20 years ago to have God in my life, He has proven good to me time and again. I am in awe of the blessings, the joy, the peace, and the hope I have received since becoming a Christian. I love God and I don’t think I’d ever turn away from him.
And yet.
There is a certain level of risk when you believe there is only one right way or answer. To some, you can come across as arrogant. To others, you can seem intolerant and insensitive.
While I’m not saying we should be like leaves blowing in the wind when it comes to what we believe, I think it helps to practise a little openness, patience, and acceptance.
Accepting someone doesn’t have to mean we condone their behaviour. Accepting someone doesn’t have to mean we take on their character. Accepting someone doesn’t have to mean we are wrong and they are right.
We are all sinful human beings. None of us are perfect. What makes someone else’s supposed wrongdoing any worse or better than mine?
Accepting someone simply means we love them for who they are. And isn’t that the “new commandment” Jesus gave us? “A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another” (John 13:34).
It’s similar to a parent-child relationship. We love them for who they are, no matter what they do, how they behave, or what they say. Yes, when our child is young, we guide and teach them. However, when they become an adult, I believe it’s time to simply trust their decisions—be it spiritually or materially.
It doesn’t mean we won’t worry. We may even be disappointed, but in the end, all we’re left to do is to love them. All we’re left is to trust that the Holy Spirit will do the job He needs to.
And yet.
My son is only seven now. So I’m doing all I can to provide him with a Christian foundation. It’s the compass I hope will guide him through his life. It’s the assurance I hope will calm him through future storms.
I’m also teaching him tolerance. To know that while we believe what we believe, it doesn’t mean others who believe differently are inferior. To know that we’re not here to judge other people’s decisions or lifestyles.
I’m also teaching him curiosity. To know what drives people’s actions, to discover other ways of living, to understand why people believe what they believe.
I’m also teaching him to be critical. Not as a way to condemn, but as the ability to determine whether he wants anything in his own life.
And yet.
There is a possibility that my actions may mean he’ll grow up to reject God and believe differently. Then again, it’s a possibility even for those cocooned in a Christian bubble.
What if he doesn’t believe?
I’ll simply continue to love him with the ferocity of a thousand suns. I will also have to trust that when the Bible says God “will wipe every tear” and that there will be no more “crying,” that it means Jesus will somehow ease the heartbreak that I may face if I don’t see my son in the new heaven and the new earth.
I will trust the Holy Spirit.
Melody Tan is a freelance writer, content creator, and editor for both print and digital. She is currently the project leader of Mums At The Table, a multimedia initiative aimed at supporting mothers in their parenting journey, through education and community. She and her husband live in Sydney, Australia, with their seven-year-old son.