Sorry about the bad advice, kids

Over the years, I’ve given Erin and James some bad advice.

In 2012, we took a family trip to the mountains of Colorado. During a slow time one afternoon, I decided to teach them the value of trust. Our lodge was near to a water slide that ran a couple of hundred yards down the side of the mountain. It was an inground slide, about three feet from side to side. For whatever reason, it was closed that day so the channel was dry and we had the entire area to ourselves.

We hiked to the start of the ride, following the winding sidewalk that was adjacent to the slide’s path. When we got to the top, we looked down over beautiful scenery and could see the bottom of the ride. It seemed very far away.

I said “Guys, today I am going to teach you about trust. I want you to close your eyes and begin to walk back down the sidewalk. We will all hold hands, and I will keep my eyes open so that I can tell you when to turn right or left so that you don’t fall off the sidewalk.”

They proceeded very slowly at first, worried with each step that they would fall into some unseen abyss. Over time, as their comfort level grew, their pace picked up. Eventually, they were talking and laughing as we wound down the mountainside.

Erin promised that she was not peaking as she proceeded fearlessly. I became engrossed in a story she was telling and didn’t notice that James was drifting off course as we approached a small bridge that crossed the waterway.

While my attention was on Erin, James walked straight off the bridge and fell into the dry slide. He was startled by the drop, but unhurt other than a small scrape on his arm. After he climbed back up to the sidewalk, he looked me in the eyes and said, “Seriously, Dad?”

Blind trust is a bad idea.

As they are entering adulthood, I stumble across other examples of advice that seemed wise at the time, but really weren’t. One of the other errors of my parenting was a 180-degree departure from blind trust. In my foolishness, I raised them to become independent adults.

From the time they were young, I taught them how to deal with adversity. Knowing that I would not always be there, they needed to be able to survive and thrive without me. There were lessons on withstanding pain, thinking calmly while the world around them spun in chaos, and postponing pleasure when there was work to be done.

I trained them to go fast and to win. They learned to stand tall and proud in open defiance of forces that would hold them down. They became survivors.

Only later did it occur to me that becoming an independent adult is a bad idea.

The flaw in my plan revealed itself in bits and pieces. I watched James struggle with his classes as a freshman in college, unwilling to reach out to others for help. I watched Erin endure her inner pain as a teenager, bearing her burdens alone and in silence.

James passed his classes and learned that he could make it on his own. Erin lived to see brighter times, conditioned to keep her thoughts to herself. They were becoming independent by building protective shells as they learned how to persevere without relying on others.

The problem with winning on your own is that you are alone while you do it. We weren’t designed to be alone; we were created for community. We weren’t meant to be independent, proving our value and demonstrating that we can win. We are called to be interdependent, using our strength to prove the value of others and achieve the success of a broader group.

I love the song “City on the hill” by Casting Crowns (click to listen). It tells the story of poets, dancers, soldiers, and elders who are the citizens of a beautiful city on a hill that is admired by the world. However, each of the groups becomes focused on their own importance and the city gradually crumbles around them. The chorus strikes at my heart as it reminds us of how our strengths were designed to be part of something bigger than our own success.

It is the rhythm of the dancers
That gives the poets life
It is the spirit of the poets
That gives the soldiers strength to fight
It is fire of the young ones
It is the wisdom of the old
It is the story of the poor man
That’s needing to be told.

The apostle Paul puts it another way in 1st Corinthians. First, he tells us to run the race of life like we want to be the champion (1 Cor 9:24-27), which sounds very alone and independent. But then he says that we have been baptized by one Spirit to become parts of a larger body (1 Cor 12:12-31). Paul made himself strong, but it wasn’t for his own good. It was so that the church would be victorious. In his submission, he became stronger and shows the power of interdependence.

Our strengths were given for the benefit of the whole and our weaknesses are the connections that bind us to each other.

I’m sorry, James and Erin. It looks like falling off a bridge wasn’t the only time I was wrong. Hopefully, we can all unwind this mess together with no other injury than a minor scuff.

I pray that you continue to discipline yourselves and develop the talents that were designed into your soul before time began. Instead of seeking personal reward though, use your gifts to bless others. When you desire to be recognized, give away recognition to others. You will find the greatness you seek reflected in the eyes of people you love.

Your family, friends, community, and world need you. Be great together.