It was the kind of article that makes you mentally cover your face with your hands. And then, bite your nails with the grimace still on your face.
And her words still rattle me. (They should.)
Raising Children Without the Concept of Sin , published recently in the New York Times, was the kind of title that sinks to your gut like a stone, stirring up silt and making things generally cloudy. I wish I could discard this with other headlines, lining tomorrow’s guinea pig cages… but unfortunately, this one is perennially relevant.
The blurb: My religious fundamentalist childhood was built around the fear of sin. My daughters don’t even know the word.
The author, now estranged from her parents, recounts a childhood that sketches the nightmares of any parent who loves God’s Word–and loves grace:
God was a megaphone bleating in my head: “You’re bad, you’re bad, you’re bad!”
….Sin. That tiny word still makes me cringe with residual fear. Fear of being judged unworthy. Fear of the eternal torture of hell. Fear of my father’s belt.
As I’ve grown in my understanding of shame-parenting and written on it repeatedly, this article made me want to crawl under a rock.
I wanted not only to parse what sin should and shouldn’t look like in parenting–but needed to understand the author’s story, too. If I looked beyond the ostensible hostility, what did I need to know about what happened to her?
What did I need to be vigilant not to repeat?
I addressed this heavy, necessary topic recently on FamilyLife.com. And I’d love to hear your thoughts once you’ve read it.
What does the concept of sin do for our kids?
