One of the most fundamental aspects of the Christian experience is suffering. That may sound like an odd thing to say, but it isn’t. The Bible frequently attests to the role of suffering in the life of the Christian:

“I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” –John 16:33

“Indeed, all who desire to live a godly life in Christ Jesus will be persecuted.” –2 Timothy 3:12

“Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me.” –Matthew 16:24

There are many verses saying similar things. The message is clear: Christian, you will suffer. But do we, though? Do you think of your life as one of suffering? In our American, Christian-neutral culture, do we indeed suffer?

Admittedly, there are different causes for suffering. There is persecution, where you suffer for your faith. There’s physical suffering, where you endure personal ailments, injuries, and calamities. But there is a third type of suffering as well: the kind of suffering that accompanies grief. This is suffering in which life just doesn’t go our way. Your company closes its doors without warning, and you are left unemployed. A family member has an untimely death. A move requires new schools, churches, and friend groups. A despicable sin may be uncovered in someone you admire and esteem. These things cause deep grief with significant consequences. This type of grief, above all else, tends to cause what is termed “a crisis of faith.”

A crisis of faith is when external influences cause a Christian to ask deep and significant questions. These questions often begin the process known as “deconstruction.” Ian Harber defines deconstruction as a “crisis of faith that leads to the questions of core doctrines and untangling of cultural ideologies that settles in a faith that is different from before.”

Suffering, the kind that causes deep grief and emotional hurt, can be a catalyst for sending a Christian into a crisis of faith—then down the road to deconstruction. And if we have fragile children who do not understand suffering, we are priming them to break when that crisis of faith appears.

The goal of this post is not to address all forms of deconstruction/reconstruction but rather to shed light on how well-meaning Christian parents often over-shelter their children so that they lack the biblical framework and skills to handle adversity.

The Christian Coddle

When you consider the cultural landscape in America, there is little suffering compared to the rest of the world. We have unparalleled medical care. There are no wars at our borders nor raiding tribes that plunder towns and kidnap our children. Pirates do not hijack luxury yachts on our coastline. We have clean drinking water and plenty of food. Compared to much of the world, we do not suffer at the same level as most.

As such, our context for suffering is different. On the whole, the scale is less extreme. Suffering in America is often manageable or even preventable—we are nothing if not a country with expendable resources. So, parents in America have this remarkable and globally unique ability to remove their children from the grief of much suffering. This is a blessing! But it can also have unintended consequences.

We see it in small ways. With enough sponsorship, your child will find a select team to play on (even if you start and fund the entire team yourself!). We can afford tutors and personal trainers. Many teens do not need summer jobs because both parents work. We can move to get our kids into different schools or afford tuition for a private school. In other words, we have options. But the danger with options is that we are often never forced to develop the grit and determination that suffering demands, that adversity requires. Without the muscle tearing, it cannot become stronger.

In Plain Terms
Christian parents: your children need to endure suffering with you by their side. They need to endure disappointment and loss so that their “faith muscles” have been torn and can grow. Suffering is a means of grace—it releases the control we thought we had over life. When we fail to allow our children to endure suffering and learn how to have hope amidst pain, we are ensuring that they will be ready to shatter when that first real crisis of faith occurs without you.

What this doesn’t mean:
It doesn’t mean that you allow your child to have the weight of the world heaped upon their shoulders or that you open their eyes to the deepest, darkest atrocities that this world offers. We are to guard their hearts.

What this does mean:
It does mean, however, that you don’t insulate their world so much that adversity never arises. We cannot shield them from the reality of death and mankind’s fallen nature. Our children need to know that, in Christ, there is hope amidst even the worst pain.

Ian Harber summarizes this well: “There are two ways suffering can change you. The first is by breaking you down, leaving you afraid, paranoid, and void of hope. The other is by breaking you open, leaving you with a wider heart, and expanding your capacity to love.”

Parents, our children need to encounter suffering with you by their side, with you walking them through it, pointing them all along the way to the hope we have in Christ. To do anything less, to coddle them until college, is not only a disservice to them but also a danger to their soul.

To use a workout analogy: Someday, the suffering of this world will test the strength of your child’s faith. Have you allowed them to do the reps to build up the muscle to endure it, or have you done the work for them?