Is there greater fruit in being a minister’s grandkid?

My parents aren’t believers.

Thus, I’ve certainly never personally known what it’s like to be the kid of a minister.

But, I’ve definitely known plenty of minister’s children.

Some embrace the faith of their parents. Many in fact.

Some rebel. 

Some resent.

Some spiritually emancipate themselves.

I often wonder about the pressures put on minister’s kids.

A decade go it was a far greater concern since my offspring were growing up with a parent who was on staff at a church.

As I said above, I’ve seen some kids serve God faithfully and I’ve seen others be openly hostile to all things God and the church.

As my kids grow, even as I’m now - at most - only a volunteer at church, I can see the ways that they are beginning to respond to church.

But what about if it’s your grandparent who is the minister?

Is this a more fertile soil?

Is the relationship a child has with their grandparent more evangelistically  conducive?

I believe it may be since your grandparent - without the 24/7 presence of a parent - can wield greater influence since they are free from the baggage of behind-closed-doors-hypocrisy. 

Of course, grandparent are just as fallen and just as broken as the rest of us, but once they are at the arms-length of Nan or Pop, the witness they can have can be far more impactful.

How paying attention can look different now

What does paying attention look like in 2025?

In the classroom, this will look like a student who is off their electronic device (or using it productively) and working on task.

In the pews, may look like someone taking notes during the sermon with their bible open on their lap.

But, if I am paying attention and engaged in a sermon or bible study, it may not look like it.

Chances are, I will be on my phone.

On it, I will have my bible.

And every translation of the bible.

I will take notes.

I will jot down ideas for future Tiny Bible Bits.

You will know if I’m engaged because I will be looking up things online.

I will be quickly chasing rabbit-holes.

I will be checking anything which does sit quite right.

I will be confirming speculations which pop into my mind.

A generation ago this would have been rude.

Without knowing what I’m doing, I may look distracted.

But, this can be how paying attention can look in 2025.

Do we consume the bible like we do TikTok?

My daughters, for a while, had been asking to watch the Marvel films catalogue.

Consequently, over the last few months, we’ve been (selectively) working our way through the MCU.

At least I have been with my youngest.

My eldest, who wanted to watch the films more, has barely been able to sit through an entire film.

The reason is simple, and in part, is the reason she wanted to watch the movies in the first place.

She’s seen the shorts online.

She’s viewed small snippets of the best bits.

She’s been exposed to the most action-packed, humour-quipped, tear-jerking moments.

But, she cannot stomach the plot which connects these fragments.

She isn’t prepared to put in the effort to get the underlying plot which adds the meaning.

Do we consume the bible in the same way?

Do we just expose ourselves to the greatest hits?

Are we just familiar with the Sunday shorts?

When we’re younger, this is definitely the way we serve up the scriptures.

Bite-sized.

Easily-consumable.

Hopefully, alongside a story which has a drama or a craft activity.

But, we exclude some of the passages which add depth to these passages.

We cut Deuteronomy.

We skim over Isaiah and Jeremiah.

We leave Romans for “when they’re older”.

But, in doing this, we reduce the bible to a series of disconnected shorts.

We rob the bible of an overarching salvation narrative.

Worse still, we condition our young people to only be able to consume the bible in easily-digestible chunks.

How important is good banter in my classroom?

If the title of this post replaced the word important with essential, then the answer would be simple.

None.

Good banter isn’t essential.

Neither is laughter.

Or enjoyment.

But all three are included in my classroom.

And they make things better.

In fact, they make my classes, mine.

For, I have a pretty good banter game.

I tell corny jokes (even if it’s only to entertain myself at times).

I will have, at times, the most energetic classes in the school.

I’ll act.

I’ll throw myself on the ground and loudly wail in order to demonstrate Ancient Egyptian funeral practices.

I’ll do what it takes to not only communicate the content of my lessons, but that I really enjoy educating and, specifically, teaching my subjects.

This happens best if I’m authentically teaching.

And… I’m funny (or at least witty).

I’m loud.

I’m energetic.

I’m shameless.

Without anything getting out of control, and with the boundaries clearly put in place and firmly kept, I will engage in some friendly banter.

This is not “ya mum” or “that’s what she said.”

This is crap banter.

Good banter is productive…

Usually, it will help me build rapport with my students.

Often, it will help students develop social skills.

It will cultivate sense of belonging.

It will, always, add the flavour that this class as one taught by me.

Of course, the aim is never to be friends with my students. 

But, I can (and should), be friendly.

It must remain clear that I’m both the adult AND the professional in the room.

But, a classroom without quality banter… wouldn’t be a classroom where I’m the teacher.

The obstacles when you’re not acclimatised

While my wife and I were in Europe over the last school holidays we did something which we always find a challenge - we hired a car.

Of course, the major challenge for an Australian driving in Europe is that you need to drive on the opposite side of the road.

Thankfully, after a few days we both adjusted (even if I did routinely turn on the windscreen wipers when I intended to indicate a turn), but the first few hours were hairy for both driver and passenger.

Everything was just a little more difficult.

Everything required just a lot more concentration.

Because everything was unfamiliar.

Whenever you do something new, or for the first time in a long while, everything takes a while to fall into place.

It’s true for driving.

It’s true for teaching.

It’s true for preaching.

It takes a while for your body to acclimatise to the rigours of a new activity.

But the place I most encounter this is whenever I ride a bike.

Frankly, I’m not brilliant on a bicycle.

I can ride, but I only ever do so sporadically - and usually in Europe.

This last time, my body reminded me that I was not acclimatised to the physical toll that the task would bring.

But, no matter if it is driving on the right side of the road, riding in the saddle, in the classroom or at the pulpit, there are consequences of unfamiliarity.

Everything is more pronounced.

Small things are off-putting.

You lack the ability to look far ahead.

You overly rely upon expert advice.

You require greater preparation.

You’re more drained after the activity.

Every stage is prolonged.

No matter what it is, but especially in the areas of teaching and preaching, new practitioners must be warned about the snares of unfamiliarity.

This is especially true if they are used to watching experienced veterans.

For, as it takes more time to get ready, you get rocked by the unexpected and you lack the foresight to see trouble approaching, you need a gentle reminder that your mind and body will acclimatise.