The following is from the pastor’s breakfast at the 2024 Fellowship Conference, New York.
Question: So I have listened to a lot of your messages, Voddie’s messages, and Scott Brown’s messages on youth ministry and children’s ministry. They really changed my whole theological thinking. I swiftly pulled my kids out of church youth ministry, and now I am pastoring a church. We have the children sitting in the church, taking notes while the pastor is preaching, instead of sending them off to color a picture of what Moses might have looked like. What advice do you have practically? We are calling the parents to their job of teaching their children. What other practical advice could you give in a church setting? Because I see that most children’s ministry and youth ministries are a failure. I don’t want to do this unbiblical thing just because youth ministry is popular and there are millions of dollars poured into it.
This requires a great deal of balance. It will also be different for each church with regard to the gifted individuals that are in that church.
I think we would all agree that it’s good to have children in the congregation. Yet, at the same time, I want us to start recognizing some things. We live in a world today where a child raised in a Christian home is going to have almost no social interaction except with brothers and sisters. I mean, we’ve reached a point in time where it’s literally Sodom on the outside.
One of the big failures I see in the homeschool movement, and this idea of having children in the main service, is that the greatest social interaction ought to be between the children and their parents, and then between children in the context of a family. And yet, I think there is great importance in building a community within the church and providing opportunities for children to interact with each other—not to make children role models for other children. That’s not what I’m saying. Keep the family structure, but know this: We have children sitting in services where the sermon flies so far over their heads that they don’t understand anything that’s going on.
We’re not raising Puritan children. There was a time when children studied Latin and Greek at five years old, and so we need to be very, very careful. How is the truth being communicated to them? You can say children’s church is wrong, and I disagree with that. You can say a lot of youth group stuff is wrong, and I would agree. But the question is, you Puritan pastors, who oftentimes speak over the heads of even adults because you’re so enamored with what you’re studying, do you realize the average person in the pew doesn’t have a clue what you’re talking about? How are you going to actually communicate truth to that child?
Here’s another thing: How much time are churches spending teaching fathers how to communicate truth to their children? Very little. There ought to be classes in which we say, ‘Not just men, you should disciple your children,’ but we’re going to teach you. Not just one silly little lesson during some prayer breakfast—we are going to invest months and months and months in you so that you can teach your children.
There also needs to be places where children can interact with children, where they can play and do things. Here’s the one thing I’ll tell you: If you’re going to take a lot away from these kids—and some of it should be taken away, at least the way it’s being done—my question is, what are you going to put in its place?
I’m no longer enamored with much of the language we use. I’ve been studying, but I don’t preach that much anymore. I spend most of my time taking care of missionaries and solving problems. But I look at an hour-long sermon, and I think, ‘You could have said that in 20 minutes, and you could have used a lot simpler language, because they’re not reading the same Puritan books you are.’ Well, I’m preaching the truth, but is anyone understanding you? You went around in circles so many times that I don’t even know if I can follow you, and I read the Puritans every day.
We need to sit down and ask, ‘How much truth is actually being communicated, not just to children, but to the average man in the pew?’ I remember preaching about the Great Commission, going on and on. Afterward, a man came up to me. He was so angry, I thought he was going to take a swing at me. But he said, ‘You preachers… you’re talking about all these glorious things, big words, all this stuff. My wife is ready to leave me. My children can’t stand me. I have so many problems, and you’re up here in glory, and I can’t even understand what you’re talking about.’
That’s a good word. I love theology, but how’s that theology getting down to the children? You boast about having all the children in the service—wonderful. But what are they doing?
My whole question is, what is the fruit of it? There’s a lot of pride now about not having youth groups or children’s church. If you want to boast about that, fine, but I know places—like John MacArthur’s church—where they have children talking about truths I don’t even hear adults talking about, and they learned it in that children’s group. We need to rethink things.
Show me children growing in the faith. Show me people in the church who understand what we’re preaching. When I used to work with the Agua Luna tribe, you didn’t walk in there with perfect exposition. You watched their faces. You tried to teach, just get them to understand the basics of the doctrine. And if they looked confused, you came at it another way.
It’s not about your expository ability or sounding like a Puritan. You’re not preaching to Puritans. How are they being taught?
Ask your congregation and the children, ‘Can you explain to me what I just preached?’ If they can’t, we need to change something. You will know them by their fruit. You’ll know your style of ministry by its fruit.
I know an Arminian church that doesn’t like Calvinism, but their children’s instruction in basic truths outshines many of the things I’m aware of. So the question is, who’s actually learning?
One last thing: When you get into the Reformed community, don’t preach for the approval of other Reformed leaders. Minister to care for the people where they’re at.
Someone recently asked me, ‘Who’s your favorite preacher?’ They expected me to say John Calvin or someone, but I said, ‘David Jeremiah—I learn a lot from him.’ Or when I’m at a Reformed conference, and they ask, ‘Who’s your favorite preacher in history?’ I always say, ‘J. Vernon McGee,’ and when people laugh, I say, ‘How dare you?’ There’s more wind and truth blowing through that man’s sermons than many others.
I am Reformed, I hold to the 1689, but be careful not to fall into a rut of comparing who’s ‘Reformed enough.’ Don’t do that. Look at the fruit of a man’s ministry, and the fruit of the church’s ministry.”
