Raising Children With A Heart for The Nations

As parents, we all have a desire to protect our children. We want them to be safe, healthy, and whole. But when we look at Scripture, we see that the gospel doesn’t just lead us to love Jesus—it also sends us into the world. Following Christ leads us toward our neighbors and toward the nations. That creates a tension for parents.

How do we talk to our children about a world that is beautiful but also deeply broken? How do we help them care about people who live in difficult places without making them afraid? How do we teach them to pray not only for themselves but also for people and places they may never see?

My journey to parenthood has definitely shaped how I think about that question. My husband and I faced years of infertility. Before we knew we would struggle to have children biologically, we had already begun pursuing adoption. We were in the adoption process for three or four years when the country we were trying to adopt from closed its program. Suddenly we were back at square one.

Eventually, we adopted our oldest daughter, Zion, from China. We had been home for only six weeks when she was diagnosed with cancer. As new parents, we were overwhelmed. Our daughter was only a year and a half old, and suddenly we were facing the possibility of losing her.

Thankfully, doctors caught the cancer early. She has now been in remission for six years and is doing wonderfully. But at the time, it felt devastating. I remember thinking, “God, we’ve waited seven years for this child. How could this happen now?”

Walking through that experience exposed assumptions I didn’t even realize I had. I thought a good God would give me children and keep them healthy. I thought I was somehow entitled to that outcome. 

But suffering forced me to confront reality. We live in a broken world. Children are not promised freedom from hardship, and neither are their parents. That experience taught me to hold my children with open hands before the Lord.

My responsibility is to love them, care for them, and point them to Christ. But ultimately they belong to him, not to me.

Parenting constantly brings us back to the question: Are our children ours, or are they God’s?

When we start talking about raising children who care about the world, who might someday be sent out into the world, our instinct is often to hold on tightly. But if our children truly belong to the Lord, then we have to ask ourselves some difficult questions. Have we made idols of our children? Are we holding on to them because they belong to us, or because they make us feel secure?

If I believe the gospel is the greatest good in the world, why would I hesitate for my children to answer God’s call and share that good news wherever he leads them? That doesn’t mean I never struggle. There are absolutely moments when I want to pull them close and say, “Don’t go too far.”

But those moments reveal something happening in my own heart. They remind me that I need to surrender my fears and trust the Lord.

There are obvious ways we have to let our children learn through experience. Sometimes you warn them not to jump off the rock, they jump anyway, and then they learn the lesson the hard way.

But are there spiritual examples of that? Times when we instinctively want to protect our children from hardship, yet God may actually be using those experiences to form them?

I think sometimes parents assume that if their children suffer, then they’ve somehow failed. But our children follow a suffering Savior. If Jesus walked a path marked by sacrifice and suffering, why would we expect our children to follow Him without ever experiencing hardship themselves?

When I think about compassion, I’m reminded that the word literally means “to suffer with.” Compassion isn’t simply feeling sorry for someone. It’s entering into another person’s pain. So, if we want our children to become compassionate people, we have to ask ourselves whether we’re giving them opportunities to come alongside others who are hurting.

Are we modeling that ourselves?

We often think mission work is something that happens overseas, but God has brought people from every nation into many of our neighborhoods. Sometimes ministry begins with helping someone find a dentist, navigate a doctor’s appointment, or learn how to settle into a new community.

And as we walk alongside people in their struggles, we have opportunities to show them the love of Christ.

You’ve already touched on hospitality and welcoming people into your lives. What are some practical ways you’ve seen ordinary family rhythms shape a heart for mission?

I honestly think our theology is often expressed most clearly through our hospitality. Who are we inviting to our table? You’re going to eat dinner anyway. The question is whether you’re willing to make room for someone else.
Some of our most meaningful Thanksgiving celebrations weren’t elaborate events. They were meals shared with refugee families from Syria and the Congo. We sat around the same table, shared food, listened to each other’s stories, and experienced fellowship together.

Your house doesn’t have to be perfect. You don’t need everything organized. Sometimes hospitality simply means calling someone and saying, “Would you like to have dinner with us?”

I think we need to ask God to give us eyes to see the people around us. What does it look like to volunteer in your community? What does it look like to serve people who are vulnerable? What does it look like to help those who live on the margins?

Too often we compartmentalize our lives. We think of ministry as one thing and family life as another. But what if our children joined us in ministry? What if they watched us serve? What if they saw us care for people who are hurting?

What our children ultimately remember isn’t what we say. It’s what we treasure. If they see us sacrificing our comfort because Jesus is worthy, they’ll begin to develop that same vision.

We can teach lessons from books—and books are wonderful—but our children are always watching how we actually live. If our greatest treasure is Christ, they will see it. If serving him is our joy, they’ll see that too. And over time, those values become part of who they are.

People might ask, “Why would you put ministry ahead of your family?” Or, “Why would you expose your children to hardship for the sake of mission?” How have you navigated those tensions?

When we place our trust in Christ, we’re pledging allegiance to a King. If the King calls us somewhere, we don’t get to negotiate the terms. We don’t get to decide whether the assignment feels comfortable or convenient. Our lives belong to Him.

As parents, we often focus on our children’s safety. And that’s understandable. We want them to feel secure. But true security isn’t found in favorable circumstances. True security is found in the love of God. I tell my children often, “Your soul is safe.” The circumstances around you may change. You may face difficulty. You may encounter uncertainty.

But if you belong to Christ, your soul is safe. That’s the kind of security I want my children to understand.

Lauren, how has becoming a mother changed the way you think about the Great Commission?

Before I had children, I had a long season of marriage without kids. I enjoyed a lot of freedom. I was involved in ministry opportunities, volunteering, mission trips, and serving in various ways.

Then I became a mom. As grateful as I was, there was a part of me that felt like I had lost some of those opportunities. I couldn’t volunteer in the same ways. I couldn’t travel as freely. I couldn’t say yes to every ministry opportunity that came along. For a while, I viewed that as a limitation.

But over time, the Lord began teaching me something important. My children are my discipleship opportunity. They’re the people God has entrusted most directly to my care. Day after day, year after year, I have the privilege of helping them understand who Christ is and what it means to follow Him.
And honestly, that’s some of the hardest ministry I’ve ever done. It’s daily. It’s sacrificial. It’s often unseen. And it’s incredibly sanctifying.

Discipleship isn’t just the formal conversations about Scripture and prayer—though those are important. It’s also the daily rhythms of life. It’s apologizing when I’ve sinned. It’s asking forgiveness. It’s responding to hardship with faith. It’s showing them what it looks like to trust God when life is difficult.

All of those moments shape them. And as much as I want my children to love Jesus, I also want them to understand that following him may lead them places I never expected.
Recently I was talking with Zion about the number of unreached people in China and India. After listening for a while, she said, “Maybe someday I’ll go back to China and tell them about Jesus.” I smiled and said, “Maybe you will.” China is very far away. The thought of her living there one day is difficult for me to imagine as a mom. But if that’s where God calls her, then I want her to go.

That’s part of what it means to raise children with open hands.

One of the themes running through this entire conversation is that following Jesus is costly. Not just for missionaries, but for ordinary Christian families as well.

Can you share examples of how God has used real-world experiences to help your children understand that reality?

One of the ways we’ve tried to cultivate that perspective in our family is through prayer. Prayer connects our children to needs and people beyond their immediate world. We regularly pray for missionaries, unreached people groups, and believers facing persecution.

At first, those concepts can feel abstract to children. But over time they become personal. When a missionary family stays in your home, when your children play with their kids, and when you continue praying for them after they leave, missions stops being a distant idea.
It’s no longer “those people somewhere else.” It’s friends. It’s people they know and love. That’s one reason I encourage parents to find practical ways to connect their children with God’s work around the world.

Read missionary biographies. Learn about other countries. Support missionaries. Pray together. Invite people into your home. Those simple habits help children see that God’s kingdom extends far beyond their own community.

One thing that strikes me in this conversation is that we’re talking about a vision that extends beyond our own lifetimes. When we teach our children to love Christ and care about the nations, we may never fully see the fruit of that investment. But we trust that God is at work.

That brings me to a quote that’s been especially meaningful to many of us at Radical. It’s from C.T. Studd: “Only one life, ’twill soon be past. Only what’s done for Christ will last.” When you hear that quote, what comes to mind?

We actually have that quote on the wall in our home. It was on the wall in my husband’s childhood home as well, so it’s something we’ve lived with for many years. Recently, that quote took on an entirely new meaning for our family.

About eighteen months ago, our son Levi and his wife, Aurora, were renovating an old stone house. They had poured years of labor, savings, and dreams into that project. The home wasn’t yet insured because they were still in the middle of renovations.
Then one day, it burned to the ground. Everything was gone. Their home. Their possessions. Their savings. Years of work.

That night they came back to our house in shock. Both families gathered together, trying to process what had happened.

Before everyone left, Aurora’s father asked Levi if he would pray. Levi stood there having lost everything and prayed something I’ll never forget. He said, “Lord, Aurora and I have lost absolutely everything. We don’t have one thing left in this world. And we’re so grateful that you’ve given us the gift of seeing that only one life will soon be past, and only what’s done for Christ will last.”
I remember thinking that the quote had moved beyond being words on a wall. It had become real. They repeatedly said afterward, “What a gift to learn this lesson now.” They found themselves praying, “Lord, help us never hold too tightly to the things of this world again.”

As parents, that’s what we want our children to learn. Not that possessions don’t matter at all, but that they aren’t ultimate. Not that accomplishments are bad, but that they aren’t our identity. We don’t want to raise children who are climbing the world’s ladders of success. We want to raise children who understand the upside-down kingdom of God.

Children who know that greatness often looks like humility. Children who know that faithfulness matters more than status. Children who understand that only what is done for Christ will last.

What would you say to the parent who believes all of this but feels overwhelmed? Maybe they look at the world and see conflict, instability, and endless needs. Maybe they already feel stretched thin. What encouragement would you give them?

First, if you feel overwhelmed, you’re actually in a very good place. Because that’s the place where you realize your dependence on God. The Christian life was never meant to be lived through our own strength. Jesus said that apart from him we can do nothing.

So instead of panicking, simply come to him. Abide in him. Remain in him. Ask him to produce fruit through your life.

One prayer I’ve often prayed is this: “Lord, don’t let the Great Commission become my parental omission.”

There are countless responsibilities competing for our attention as parents. It’s easy to become consumed with schedules, activities, academics, and endless obligations. But I don’t want to miss what matters most.

I want my children to know Christ. I want them to love what He loves. I want them to care about the world He came to save. That doesn’t require extraordinary accomplishments. It often begins with simple faithfulness.

You can sit around your kitchen table and pray together. You can talk about what God is doing around the world. You can invite people into your home. You can model compassion. You can trust God to do far more than you ever could.

 I would say something very similar. Start small. Sometimes we hear conversations about missions or global evangelism and immediately assume we need to do something dramatic.

Most families don’t need to get on an airplane tomorrow. But every family can take a step. Read a missionary story together. Pray for another country. Support a missionary. Watch a documentary. Talk about what God is doing around the world. Have conversations that help your children see beyond themselves.

Those small rhythms add up over time. They become part of your family’s culture. And as your children grow, those habits can help shape a genuine love for God’s global mission. 

The goal isn’t to overwhelm parents with one more thing to do. The goal is to help families develop a bigger vision of what God is doing and how they can participate in it.