I was born and raised a Catholic which was my religious life until I went away to college at 18 and was born-again into an Evangelical and Protestant faith bearing little resemblance to Catholicism. The primary reason I embraced this new version of Christianity was because I learned the Bible stated clearly, many times, I could be assured when I die I would go to heaven, that such assurance was mine if I trusted in Christ. How come, I wondered, I’d never been told this in my 18 years as a Catholic. The fear of going to hell when I died was a very real presence in my life, and as I understood the Catholic faith I could not have assurance of my salvation. When I learned of this I was not a happy camper, and became virulently anti-Catholic for a number of years.
I was born-again into a typically Baptist environment of the 1970s “Jesus Revolution,” and like my boomer brothers and sisters was dunked and re-baptized because I guess I thought the first one didn’t take, or something. Being a Baptist was among the anti-Catholic responses of my young faith, and baptizing babies made no sense to me, or any sense to anyone I associated with in the first five years and four months of my Christian life. Then by God’s wonderful providence, I met a man named Steve Kennedy. One evening I went to his house in Newport Beach to meet him for the first time, and he introduced me to Reformed Theology. He would become a mentor of mine, and change the course of my young life (I have a wife and three children and two and a half grandchildren because of this secondary cause). I could accept TULIP, that made sense, but baptizing babies? No way! That was Catholic!
One Sunday morning not too long after I met Steve I went to a Reformed Baptist church, of course, and it so happens, also in God’s wonderful providence, they were doing a baby dedication that morning. I had learned from Steve the biblical concept of covenant, something rarely discussed in the non-Reformed circles I’d been involved in. As they were dedicating their babies a thought unbidden crashed into my brain; they are treating their children as strangers to the covenant! And it ticked me off. I have no idea where the thought came from, but it was powerful and I was instantly converted to paedobaptism. I could see in an instant that the faith of our fathers was, is, and always would be a generational faith. The Lord thought this idea was important enough that just prior to the Israelites going into the promised land after 40 years wandering in the wilderness, He felt the need to emphasize the specifically generational nature of the faith. We read this in Deuteronomy 7:9, and there are many more, but this specific verse gives us the practically eternal nature of His covenant faithfulness:
9 Know therefore that the Lord your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commandments.
If a generation is 20 years, that would be 20,000 years! We’re just getting started!
The Bible teaches us that baptism, and this includes baptizing babies, is more about God’s covenant faithfulness than it is about our personal decision to trust Christ. As the Westminster Confession says, it is a “sign and seal of the covenant of grace” (28). When Christ came, God’s covenant promises didn’t all of a sudden become solely focused on individuals, but were now capable of being fulfilled to the generations because of what he accomplished on the cross. Jews in the first century, including Jesus, were incapable of seeing their ancient faith in individualistic baptistic terms because God’s covenant promises to His people was always about “you and your children” (Acts 2:39). Our generational faith is rooted in the concept of covenant.
The Centrality of Covenant in Biblical Religion
I can say this with absolute certainty: There is nothing as important in the redemptive history found in our Bibles as the covenant. There is actually more than one, but they are subsumed in the ultimate covenant of redemption made between the Triune God in eternity past. Jesus in John 6 gives us a glimpse of what happened in this covenant when he says:
38 For I have come down from heaven not to do my will but to do the will of him who sent me. 39 And this is the will of him who sent me, that I shall lose none of all those he has given me, but raise them up at the last day. 40 For my Father’s will is that everyone who looks to the Son and believes in him shall have eternal life, and I will raise them up at the last day.
Jesus was given his name (Matt. 1:21) to accomplish what he shares with us here, that “he will save his people from their sins.” His people, the ones he will save from their sins, are the people God the Father gave the Son in eternity past, specifically to raise them up at the last day. Those given by the Father will believe in the Son, will come to faith in him. You can theologically call this whatever you like, but I call it biblical, and it is bound up in God’s covenant promises revealed to us in redemptive history.
I will contrast the biblical concept of covenant with the primary competing alternative in the modern West, secularism, later, but its centrality to redemptive history happens immediately after the fall in Genesis 3. When Adam and Eve rebelled and introduced sin and all its consequences into the world God reveals that the solution to this catastrophe has already been put in place, and notice who is calling the shots:
15 And I will put enmity
between you and the woman,
and between your offspring and hers;
he will strike your head,
and you will strike his heel.
I like the NIV using “crush” for the second “strike” but the Hebrew uses the same word. Clearly, striking a head will be more damaging than striking a heal, and ultimately cause fatal damage. We also learn from this promise of God that humanity will be divided into two mutually exclusive camps, the offspring or seed of the woman, and the offspring of the serpent. As much as we might not like the implications, this was all determined before God even created the world, and we’re playing our part in this cosmic drama.
The covenant next appears with Noah in Genesis 9:
8 Then God said to Noah and to his sons with him: 9 “I now establish my covenant with you and with your descendants after you 10 and with every living creature that was with you—the birds, the livestock and all the wild animals, all those that came out of the ark with you—every living creature on earth. 11 I establish my covenant with you: Never again will all life be destroyed by the waters of a flood; never again will there be a flood to destroy the earth.”
Although this isn’t specifically a promise related to salvation from sin, notice again it is to Noah and his descendants, as are all the covenant promises of God to His people.
God’s covenant implementation starts in earnest with Abram in Genesis 12 when He calls him out of his homeland to another land and that he will make him “into a great nation.” The covenant will be made official in chapter 15, but in chapter 13 showing Abram the land he will inherit he says to him:
16 I will make your offspring like the dust of the earth, so that if anyone could count the dust, then your offspring could be counted.
The promise, the covenant, is always to Abram and his offspring. In chapter 15 the Lord promises Abram that his offspring will be as numerous as the stars in the sky, and then he performs a very strange ceremony to modern sensibilities to confirm the covenant with Abram. Covenants were legal agreements in the ancient world with blessings and curses as stipulations, shown vividly in this ceremony. The strange thing about this ceremony isn’t just animals being cut in half, which was common at the time indicating that if the stipulations were not followed, may that party end up like the animals. What was strange is that the Lord in the ceremony indicated he would be responsible for both sides of the agreement. It was a unilateral covenant for two parties because man could never hold up his end of the agreement.
In chapter 17 the Lord confirms his covenant with Abram through the sign and seal of circumcision and changes his name to Abraham. The key point is that God’s covenant promise to Abraham is generational:
9 Then God said to Abraham, “As for you, you must keep my covenant, you and your descendants after you for the generations to come. 10 This is my covenant with you and your descendants after you, the covenant you are to keep: Every male among you shall be circumcised.
When Isaac is born, the Lord puts Abraham to the ultimate test asking him to sacrifice his son, his only son, and when he passes the test by completely trusting the Lord in the face of such an absurdity the covenant is yet again confirmed:
17 I will surely bless you and make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and as the sand on the seashore. Your descendants will take possession of the cities of their enemies, 18 and through your offspring all nations on earth will be blessed, because you have obeyed me.”
The Lord confirms his covenant with Isaac and Jacob, and the details yet again make the point that God’s covenant promises have always been, and continue to be, generational. This did not stop with the New Covenant. As I quoted Peter above, it is and always will be, “to you and your children.”
The Appeal of the Redemptive Covenant Story to the Next Generation
All Christians of whatever theological tradition want to pass their faith on to the next generation and generations to come, but this isn’t happening to the extent it should be. Thus the rise some years back of the “nones,” those who pick “None of the above” when asked on surveys about their religion. This is unacceptable. Why is it happening? When I wrote my first book, The Persuasive Christian Parent, starting in 2015, the “nones” were big news. When I read my first story of what we now call a “deconversion,” I was livid. How in the world, I thought, could the competing faith of secularism, a life where God is secondary or not welcome at all, be more appealing to young people raised in Christian homes than Christianity? If we can’t sell our children on the attractiveness of the Christian story, something is wrong. Or we’re not trying, thinking their faith will take care of itself. Many parents take their children to church and assume that will take care of them, but it won’t. As I title the first section of my book, “It’s All About Parents.” We determine whether their faith is generational or not. And for those who don’t like the sound of that, we are as responsible in our lives as God is sovereign over them. How do we do that?
The answer is actually quite simple. It’s all about the story. Apologetics, or defending the veracity of Christianity is crucial, but that is all part of helping them see the grand narrative structure of the story we as Christians are part of. Every human being whether they consciously think about it or not, and most don’t, see themselves as part of some kind of narrative, a story arc, that gives meaning to their existence. In the 21st century post-Christian West the competing story is a ubiquitous all pervasive secularism. Either we sell our children on God’s covenant story in history, or the secular culture will sell them on its story. And the secular culture is selling them twenty-four/seven. Thankfully, the secular story is weak and pathetic, but it’s up to us as parents to make the case to our children, and it’s a very easy case to make.
Since the so-called Enlightenment, Western civilization has had two diametrically opposed origin stories, and thus two ways to read history. As rationalism ascended post Descartes in the mid-1600s, and God was relegated to the fringes of society as persona non grata (an unwelcome presence), there needed to be some other plausible account of things. The most common question in all of human history, why? will be asked and must have an answer, even if it’s one as absurd as everything came from nothing for no reason at all. Enter Satan’s greatest post-fall invention into the stream of history, Charles Darwin and his 1859 Origin of species. It’s brilliant! Perfect, really. As atheist Richard Dawkins said one hundred and fifty years later, evolution has made it possible to be an intellectually fulfilled atheist—albeit a deluded one. But the insidious beauty of Darwinian evolution was that in the 19th century it was a plausible explanation for heathens who insisted man gets to be his own god. Looked at from the scientific knowledge of 2024, however, and it is almost comical, if it weren’t so tragic.
Survival of the fittest was sinful man’s attempt to imbue life with meaning, hope, and purpose where it inherently has none. Without God the Creator, all we are is star dust, a chance collocation of meaningless atoms, so much lucky dirt, a little more than mere animals who by some freak chance of “natural” selection can talk and think. We have to make our own meaning in a fundamentally meaningless universe, between two poles of meaninglessness, as the Great RC Sproul put it, where we came from, meaningless, and where we’re going, meaningless, back to dust. We have to build our hope on circumstances we think we’ll like, and create purpose in trying to attain them, all the while knowing we are hurdling toward inevitable death, turning into the dust from which we came. How inspiring! Life is basically a Woody Allen movie. One of my favorite scenes is in his 1986 hit movie Hannah and Her Sisters. Allen, unsurprisingly, plays a hypochondriac and he’s convinced he has brain cancer. This scene on the sidewalk is right after the doctor gives him a clean bill of health. He’s skipping and jumping saying he’s not going to die, then it hits him.
Woody Allen movies were a great apologetics tool I used with my children as they were growing up. We can have Christianity, which gives our lives real meaning, hope, and purpose, and it also happens to be true, or secularism which promises everything and delivers nothing, and to add insult to injury, it’s a lie. Life becomes a Woody Allen movie, ending either in despair or mostly resignation.
The Christian covenant story, by contrast, of God working out his purposes for our lives, and our children’s lives, and the world’s redemption is epic. And as they said in the old boomer movie days in the 60s, it’s in technicolor! I could write and talk for days about the meaning, hope, and purpose Christianity gives our lives, but I will restrain myself, and not tax your patience. I will end with two quotes, one from the greatest apologist and story teller combo of the 20th century, C. S. Lewis, and the other from the Bible. Lewis, an ex-atheist realized in his 30s that atheism had zero explanatory power, meaning it has no plausible explanation for anything:
I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen: not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.
We either give our kids puzzle pieces for a puzzle that doesn’t even exist, or we give them the story into which all puzzle pieces ultimately fit. The Apostle Paul said something about those pieces fitting together by the Puzzle Grandmaster in Romans 8:28:
28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.
I used to joke with my children, and often still do, that Paul certainly didn’t mean all; maybe 95%, but all? Yep, every single thing, every moment of every second of every day, God is working in us, on us, and through us for our good and his glory. Talk about hope, meaning, and purpose! Add to that we get to change the world in our own little corner of it, to advance God’s kingdom on earth and His glory to this fallen world.
That, brothers and sisters, is an easy sell. And children raised with it, will never abandon their faith.
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