Worship and Baby Food

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Nate Devlin. June 14, 2026. Proverbs 22:6.

Summary

My wife’s 1999 interview to teach at Jubilee Christian School is how we discovered Beverly Heights; Jubilee was born in 1987 in the lowest level of our building. In its twentieth anniversary video the founding president, Dr. Terry Thomas, a member here while finishing his Ph.D. and later my professor at Geneva College, explained that “train” in Proverbs 22:6 comes from a root meaning to rub on: mothers rubbed a staple food on a baby’s palate to give the child a taste for it. Christian education, he said, gives children a taste for the things of the kingdom so they will not turn away later. I never forgot it.

Sadly, a little over ten years later, Jubilee closed. Why? I knew the school for years, through my wife and this church, and offer four observations. First, no viable succession plan: the founders had vision and knew why they were doing it, but did not know how to pass on what they had built. Founder syndrome. Second, the school disconnected from the local church. It originated here, and we let it go; it accepted the medieval separation of academy from church, lost its identification with the church, and struggled to partner with churches. Third, separation created mission drift; they forgot why they were doing what they were doing, which is ironic given what Dr. Thomas had said. Fourth, once education is separated from the mission of the church, Christian education becomes one option among many, teaching becomes a career choice rather than a calling from God, and without calling there is no sacrificial leadership from parents, faculty, or administration. The church runs on sacrifice, and so does Christian education; no sacrifice, no future. From my vantage point, Jubilee closed because of these four failures.

Christian education, wherever it happens, requires intentionality. The big idea: a godly education is not a matter of preference but of imposition, training placed on the palate of a child. Ignorance is the default setting; education requires intention. Most modern education is adrift, even in the church, because it is centered on the child rather than on God: heuristic models of self-discovery that produce delight-directed study, where nothing is imposed and the child pursues whatever delights him. I first heard of it from Joshua Harris, who was homeschooled that way; nothing was imposed on him and nothing required of him, so it is not surprising that a few years ago he quite publicly deconstructed his faith and left the church. When he was old, he departed. God’s philosophy is different: “Oh, taste and see that the LORD is good!” (Psalm 34:8). That is not an invitation; it is a command.

The church needs a palate cleanse. We have adopted the concept of acceptable losses: kids leave at college, and we hope they come back later. Over half of our kids leave the faith by the time they graduate college; that is not hyperbole, it is the data (Lifeway Research, 2019: two-thirds of regular Protestant churchgoing teens drop out for at least a year between 18 and 22). We must return to teaching what God expects, as God expects. Proverbs 22:6 prescribes that education: didactic, desirable, and dedicated.

Didactic education instructs on the standard, and recovering it requires divine command theory: what God says is right. Most of the church traffics instead in dialectic, sorting opinions and going with what we like; isn’t it nice that what we like always turns out to be God’s command? The church in America is pro-choice. Jesus is not: “You did not choose me, but I chose you” (John 15:16). Didactic teaching is not afraid to fail a student; education is the goal, not self-esteem. Matthew Crawford, in Shop Class as Soulcraft, writes of cultivating “a taste for the most difficult studies,” the pedagogical use of the grade letter D. Desirable: “train” means palate, and Christian education is not merely keeping the standard but loving it and the one who gives it: “How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth!” (Psalm 119:103). Dedicated: the same word is related to Hanukkah, to dedicate. Our dedication should match Hannah’s, who gave Samuel to God.

Seven principles. You can’t pass on what you don’t possess. Love flows down, not up. Christianity flows from your fingertips; it is embodied, not abstract. Adopt an integrated curriculum; Christianity touches everything. Training requires consistency: “in due season we will reap, if we do not give up” (Galatians 6:9). No fussy eating; Christianity is staple food. Don’t assume a season of separation; the text promises continuance, not a return after departure. Seven practices. Pray with and for your kids. Turn two dials up to eleven: affection and discipline. Show your work; explain why (Deuteronomy 6). Host people in your home; nothing is more contagious than example, as Pastor Peter says, and he is right. Take the kids with you in sacrifice and service. And let them see the blood over the door: do not sanitize life; let them see God’s redemption in yours.

God’s training program is seasonal. Christian formation is more cyclical than linear; training happens in every season, but seasons differ. Maybe you blew it in a season you had. Repent, figure out what season you are in, and start working with your grandkids and the kids of this church. Don’t just stand there. Get in. Let us educate these kids.

Key texts: Proverbs 22:6; Psalm 34:8; Psalm 119:97-104; John 15:14-16; Galatians 6:9; Deuteronomy 6:4-9; Exodus 12:7

For reflection

• Where have I treated Christian formation as a matter of my child’s preference rather than something God commands me to impose?
• Which of the seven principles is weakest in our home right now, and what would consistency look like there this month?
• What season of training am I in, with my own children, grandchildren, or the children of this church, and what is one thing I can start this week?