Party Time
by R.C. Sproul Jr.

As I argued in the Ekklesia column regarding all things Romish, sometimes we are all guilty of throwing the baby out with the bath water. We are rightly against something, but then in fencing off that thing, come out against what we ought to be for. We are against behaviorism, ardently so. We don't believe that we believe what we believe because of our environment. Nor do we believe in any Pavlovian educational theories wherein we see our end as the building of self-esteem, and our means as the perpetual handing out of carrots. We don't believe in bribing our children into excellence. We want them to learn instead that excellence is its own reward.

I heard once of a fairly large family travelling on a long trip. They were flying by air, and the mother had cut a deal with their children. She explained that if the children were peaceful, obedient, and quiet while on the plane, that she would buy them ice cream once they landed on the ground. Through the flight the children were so angelic that one would have thought they weren't visiting the heavens, but lived there. Others on the long flight took the trouble of speaking to the parents, praising their children for their outstanding behavior. Once in the terminal however, the angels fell quickly, screaming and whining, "Where's my ice cream? Gimme my ice cream!" Bribes can effectively, though temporarily, mask a rebellious heart, but they won't change one.

Such, however, need not mean that we will never reward our children for a job well done. We are falling off the other side of the bicycle if, after having successfully learning how to ride a bicycle, our children are congratulated with a yawn. They are rather excited, and so should we be excited. We ought to celebrate achievement in our homes and in our home schools, and do it often. These celebrations, of course, should not be for show. Too often our children's parties devolve into Martha Stewart imitation contests, with each mother trying to out do the other. You should not be bragging about your child, nor your ability to entertain with flair. They certainly can be large, if the occasion warrants it, but they can also be small.

When Darby, for instance, successfully mastered a set of fifty catechism questions written for very small children, we loaded up the children and headed off for hamburgers and ice cream. It was cheap, easy, and a delight to Darby. We did the same when Campbell reached the same milestone. Smaller still, when Campbell read his first real book, (volume one of the Phonics Museum series put out by Veritas Press), I fetched a candy bar for him. In both instances we were celebrating achievement, not in the context of a contest, but in the context of learning.

I have had the privilege of attending three different celebrations of high school graduation since we moved here, all three young people having completed their home school studies. These were bigger celebrations in the context of a greater achievement. These godly young scholars had all excelled, and fulfilled the promises in Proverbs, that godly seed are an honor to their parents. All three were also opportunities for parents to communicate to their children how pleased they were not only with their studies, but with their characters. In no case were these desperate attempts to recreate the whole high school graduation experience lest the children feel somehow left out. It was not the final folly of doing school at home.

And don't leave yourselves out of the picture. We still labor and we still learn. And so we should still celebrate our accomplishments. In our spare refrigerator we have a bottle of champagne. It is waiting, not for anything in particular, but for an appropriate time of celebration. Our joy will not be put on hold while we run down to the store. It's ready, and so are we, for the right time.

In all of these instances we are trying to remember landmarks. To stop and celebrate these events is not at all unlike the command of Joshua to mark the spot with stones where the children of Israel crossed over the Jordan river and into the land long promised. We are not violating the regulative principle of worship; we are remembering the blessings of God in our own lives, just as our fathers did before us.

Remembering God's grace is, of course, a critical part of the equation. We not only have nothing that God has not given us, we have done nothing that He has not first brought to pass. He is the one manifesting His glory as our children grow to be more like Jesus. He is the one working in them both to do and to will His good pleasure. Our celebrations of achievement, whether large or small, are remembrances of the grace of God. Indeed all of our celebrations must be remembrances of the grace of God.

If we are stingy in our praise of our children, we are probably also stingy in our praise of their heavenly Father. That we begin with high expectations is no reason not to be excited when those expectations are met or exceeded. That we rejoice in their accomplishments is not to suggest that we expect little from them. To not rejoice is to be ungrateful. If we delight in them, we will likewise delight in the One who gave them to us.

Perhaps homeschooling parents are reluctant to celebrate because of the remaining fears that we don't really know what we're doing. We can't celebrate step A, because we're still not sure we'll get to step B. All that means is that we have more learning, and unlearning to do. We should forget all the dire warnings of the nay-sayers, remember the promises of God and enter into our task confident in our children, and confident in ourselves, all because we are confident in the grace of God.

Don't be a sourpuss. Don't be afraid to rejoice. God is good, and He is good to us, and to our children. Feast in His presence, and give thanks.