Cultivating Character in Young Oaklingsis a column that celebrates the good gift and the sacred charge to the people of God to participate with Him in nurturing the youngest among us—our oaklings—toward transformation into the image of Jesus Christ. As those who belong to the One who called children to Himself and proclaimed that “the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these” (Luke 18.6 NIV), we will explore what it means to invite children into the Story of the restoration of all things, and how they might grow in Christ-like virtue as they take their God-given place in that Story.
![]()
I have had to ask my children for forgiveness more times than I can remember and certainly more times than I imagined would be necessary when I became a parent. In those early days I was so full of hope that my overwhelming love for my children would shield them from my faults, shortcomings, and places in my own heart and mind that are still in need of God’s healing.
One moment of contrition in particular stands out crystal clear in my mind. I had just over-reacted to something our oldest son—who was perhaps seven or eight years old at the time—had done or said. My split-second reaction, unthinking, unmeasured in tone and force, caused his face and frame to wither before my eyes before he skulked away.
My feelings of self-justification ebbed away with my adrenaline, and I leaned my elbows against the kitchen counter, head in my hands, tears escaping through my tightly closed eyelids.
“Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner,” I whispered. Again.
I padded up the creaky stairs and found my son sitting on his bed, clutching his favorite stuffy, Clifford the Big Red Dog, legs dangling over the side. I knelt down in front of his bed, looked into his eyes, and apologized for dishonoring him—and the God who made him in His image—with my words and tone. I confessed my need for Jesus to make me new. I asked him, “Sweetie, will you forgive me?”
My son opened his spindly, little-boy arms wide and with a tender smile said, “Always.”
Always.
Even all these years later, I’m still in awe—utterly pierced to the heart—by my son’s response. His offering of always to my request for forgiveness carries something more than even the most heartfelt yes. In my son’s absolution was not just a one-time choice to overlook that particular offense. His always held the assurance of love, a cultivated posture of the heart, and a determination of the will to forgive, this time and the next and the next.
This always forgiveness is the kind of forgiveness I want to offer. It is a “seventy times seven” forgiveness, the sort of forgiveness that brings us to repentance and transforms.
It is an echo of the kind of forgiveness we are offered in Christ.
What’s more, nothing less than always forgiveness will allow us to thrive in our calling to love our neighbors as ourselves and to be an icon of God’s love to the world. To love another is an inherently vulnerable act because where we bring love to bear, we make ourselves woundable. And where wounding is possible, forgiveness will be required for healing and flourishing. Without forgiveness’s essential commitment to not wound back and perpetuate the harm done, resentment and self-protection will devour what we would plant in love.
This is certainly true in our relationships with the young oaklings that God has given us to love. The proximity of life lived in family homes and shared pews guarantees that our words and actions will cause hurt, whether intentional or unintentional, and that we will be hurt by others. And yet, we are called as the people of God to more than begrudging absolution and a spirit of guardedness toward one another, however understandable that posture may be and however safe it may feel when we are hurting. We are those who have inherited in Christ the same Spirit that empowered Jesus, while enduring the most unjust act ever perpetrated, to cry out with compassion: “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” (Luke 23.34 ESV).
We, as families and as the Body of Christ, must have regular practices that cultivate always forgiveness and help us participate in the truth that our imperfect attempts at offering and receiving forgiveness are joined to the perfect always forgiveness of Christ Himself.
In our home, we are trusting God to form us in forgiveness through these two historic spiritual practices:
Regular Confession and Repentance
If we are to be a people who offer others always forgiveness, we must regularly receive into the deepest parts of our souls the always forgiveness we are given in Christ. Jesus, in the prayer He taught us, said, “Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us” (Luke 11.4 NLT). This line, prayed four times a day in the ancient practice of Praying the Hours, invites us into a regular rhythm of confession of sin.
When we practice confession, we are placing the full weight of our need on the One who freely forgives, proclaiming the truth of these Scriptures: “In him, we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace” (Ephesians 1.7 ESV), and “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 John 1.9 ESV).
Though complete forgiveness for those who are in Christ is an unshakeable spiritual reality, regular confession of sin allows us to experience the fullness of communion with God and receive forgiveness afresh. In this practice, we understand more deeply the depth of our own sin, the persistence of our need to be forgiven and made new. Experiencing God’s mercy and grace in His always forgiveness of us gives us the courage to extend that same forgiveness to others.
As a family, we pray the Lord’s Prayer together each night at bedtime. Often (especially during the season of Lent), we will pause after the line I shared above, giving space for each of us to confess sin to God silently or aloud. Additionally, you might consider following the counsel of the Book of Common Prayer, which includes a reading of Psalm 51 in the Morning Prayers: “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me.”
Practicing Forgiveness and Reconciliation, Even When We Don’t Feel It
In his 2022 book Forgive: Why Should I and How Can I?, pastor and author Tim Keller describes forgiveness as both an event and a process. This duality frees us to generously offer our always when we are asked to forgive, while also acknowledging lingering hurt, the need for justice, wise boundaries, and the hard work of reconciliation.
Forgiveness, then, can be offered even in the absence of full reconciliation and even and especially when we feel too weak to do it. Keller says,
Forgiveness is granted (often a good while) before it is felt—not felt before it is granted. It is a promise to not exact the price of sin from the person who hurt you. . . . It is likely you have always thought, “Well, I have to feel it before I grant it. I have to start feeling less angry before I start to not hold them liable.” If you wait to feel it before you grant it, you’ll never grant it; you’ll be in an anger prison.”[1]
While we cannot force feelings of forgiveness in our oaklings’ or our own hearts, for our four children and ourselves, my husband and I as parents give our kids an immediate opportunity to confess sin and ask for forgiveness after an offense, followed by prompting the one who was harmed to offer forgiveness. Then we commit to shepherd whichever children were involved through the often difficult process of forgiveness and full reconciliation.
A short family liturgy or script can help young ones learn the vocabulary and rhythms of reconciliation. No one is born knowing how to do this well! Training is essential, even before oaklings are able to fully understand the rich language offered in Scripture.
Even when we don’t feel it, we practice forgiveness and move toward the other person as an act of worship to God who offers us always forgiveness. Rehearsing the always forgiveness we desire to offer from the heart helps us as the people of God, whether oaklings or oaks, learn the humble posture of forgiveness and grow in our sense of commitment to renew forgiveness in our hearts by the power of the Spirit.
To pray:
O Lord, who hast mercy upon all, take away from me my sins, and mercifully kindle in me the fire of Thy Holy Spirit. Take away from me the heart of stone, and give me a heart of flesh, a heart to love and adore Thee, a heart to delight in Thee, to follow and to enjoy Thee, for Christ’s sake. Amen.
—St. Ambrose, Fourth Century Prayers, Prayers of the Early Church, ed. J. Manning Potts
To ponder:
“He who knows how to forgive prepares for himself many graces from God. As often as I look upon the cross, so often will I forgive with all my heart.”
—St. Faustina, Diary of Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska
To try:
With the young oaklings in your life, pray Psalm 51.10-12 each morning or evening, confessing your sin to God. Leave room for instruction and questions. Afterward, read Psalm 103.8-14 and share a prayer of thanks to God for His mercy and grace.
![]()
[1] Tim Keller, Forgive: Why Should I and How Can I? (Viking, 2002), 173.
The featured image, “Out of the Depths,” is courtesy of Julie Jablonski and is used with her kind permission for Cultivating.
Danielle Mellema is a contributing writer for Cultivating Magazine and occasional guest host on the Anselm Society’s Believe to See podcast. She writes about welcoming the kingdom of God in our everyday lives and experiencing the presence of the risen Christ in the cracks and crevices of our days.
She lives in Colorado Springs, Colorado, with her husband, four young children, and Pembroke Welsh corgi Perceval. She loves reading and talking about books, exploring along the trails behind her neighborhood, long conversations on her porch, and recommending just the right local restaurant to friends and strangers. She is endlessly grateful for the privilege of receiving and releasing the gospel that heals alongside the wonderful people of International Anglican Church.
Add a comment
0 Comments