My children are now 10, 10, 8, 6, 2, and 10 months. Sometimes we exempt the baby from Bible reading time if she needs to be fed. And sometimes the toddler is still finishing her nap. Beyond that, however, nobody gets an excused absence. To make time for family Bible reading, we actually had to drop out of a Bible club, where four of my children attended and I taught a class. The club was great, and everybody was learning and growing in Christ. But we decided to place higher priority, this one night a week, on our own family Bible reading.

When my oldest daughter was about to turn 6, she endured a season of feeling great burdens for people who don’t know Jesus. She prayed for them often. She wept. She brought Jesus into conversations. On occasion, she would wake in the night from sadness for unbelieving friends and family members. She spoke of becoming a missionary when she grew up so she could tell more people about Jesus.

My wife and I did all we could to foster such missionary zeal. We’d be delighted to see one or more of our children dedicate their lives to full-time Christian service, whether at home or abroad. So we spoke about this calling with our daughter. We gave her missionary biographies. We prayed fervently with her. Our church even invited her to join the Missions Committee.

And one day, out of the blue, she asks me an innocent question that cuts me deeply. “Papa, how can I tell people about Jesus when I grow up, unless you first read the whole Bible to me?”

The Quandary

I’m embarrassed to say it, but it’s true: It had never occurred to me to simply read the Bible to my kids. We fill our home with things read. We read fiction and non-fiction. We listen to audiobooks during rest time and in the car. We read at the dinner table. We read independently and together, silently and out loud. We read and read and read. But, before my daughter’s question, our reading rarely included the Bible.

To be sure, we tried our hand at family devotions. I wasn’t as consistent as I wanted to be, but we still did it a few times each week. Such devotions involved a few short Bible verses, a passage from a wonderful children’s devotional, a few good questions, and prayer.

But if we were going to sit and just read something, it wouldn’t be the Bible. It couldn’t be the Bible, right? Children aren’t ready for that. Instead, we’d read The Chronicles of Narnia, or The Penderwicks, or the latest wonder from N.D. Wilson. Maybe The Jesus Storybook Bible. But not actually The Holy Bible. No way.

Yet my daughter’s question cut me to the quick. The shocking realization rocked my world: You can read the Bible to your kids. I can read the Bible to my kids.

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