Discipling Your Grandchildren

One of the most dangerous currents in the life of faith is drift. Rarely do we wake up one morning and decide to forsake our calling or ignore the next generation. Rather, we slowly begin to assume that someone else will take care of it. The church has programs. The parents are responsible. The school will help. Meanwhile, we settle into a well-earned rest, quietly handing off our spiritual influence without realizing what has been lost. Yet spiritual legacy doesn’t pass on automatically. It requires intentionality. In Deuteronomy 6, after Israel receives the Shema—“Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one”—Moses commands the people not merely to believe these truths, but to “teach them diligently to your children… when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise.” The assumption is clear: spiritual formation happens not just in set-apart moments, but in the normal rhythms of life. And it happens through people—through parents, yes, but also through elders, mentors, and yes, grandparents. The tragic irony is that many grandparents today are more spiritually equipped than ever, yet increasingly disengaged. They know more Bible than the average churchgoer. They’ve weathered more storms. But our culture whispers, “You’ve earned your rest. Step aside. This season is no longer yours.” And so, unintentionally, we allow our influence to fade. We take up golf instead of intercession. We become hobbyists instead of disciple-makers. The gospel shapes how we live every stage of life—including the stage where we have more margin and experience than ever. And if we believe that God’s kingdom is still advancing, then retirement isn’t the end of usefulness—it’s the beginning of a new mission field. The Disconnection Between Generations In many churches today, the generational gap is widening. Young people feel misunderstood; older people feel ignored. Each group often gravitates to its own corner of the church: youth group on one side, senior saints on the other, with little overlap in between. But biblically, the church is not supposed to function like a cafeteria with separate seating for different age brackets. It’s more like a family dinner table, where stories are shared, laughter is exchanged, and wisdom is passed down through presence and proximity. When grandparents withdraw, a sacred transmission is interrupted. Psalm 145:4 says, “One generation shall commend your works to another, and shall declare your mighty acts.” This verse assumes proximity. It assumes intentionality. And yet in our current age of mobility and digital distraction, that connection often breaks down. Grandparents may live across the country—or even across town—but feel relationally miles apart from the lives of their grandchildren. Even when families do live near each other, conversations can often remain shallow or logistical. “How was school?” “Did you do your homework?” “Want more potatoes?” These are fine questions—but they don’t open the deeper channels of the heart. If we are to be disciple-makers, we must learn to speak with more than familiarity—we must learn to speak with spiritual vision. This is not about adding another burden to your shoulders. It’s about recovering your joy. Gospel ministry flows not from guilt but from gratitude. The grace you’ve received over decades isn’t meant to sit on a shelf like a dusty trophy. It’s meant to be given away—to be told, shown, and lived in the presence of the next generation. A Cultural Moment in Need of Spiritual Memory The sociologist Christian Smith coined the term “moralistic therapeutic deism” to describe the default religion of young people in America. It’s a faith that believes God exists, that we should be nice and fair to others, and that the goal of life is to be happy. It’s not atheism—but it’s also not the gospel. It’s faith stripped of grace, repentance, and awe. And it’s often the quiet result of a church culture that fails to pass down the real story of redemption. Your grandchildren are not immune to this cultural tide. Even those growing up in Christian homes and churches are subtly shaped by a world that prioritizes image over substance, self-expression over self-denial, comfort over conviction. And while you can’t change the entire culture, you can become a signpost of another way. You can be a living contrast to the cultural script. What does that look like? It looks like telling your grandson why you kept trusting God after the cancer diagnosis. It means showing your granddaughter what it looks like to apologize and forgive after a family conflict. It means inviting them into the wonder of worship, the joy of service, and the beauty of Scripture. The gospel renews not only individuals, but entire families and even cultures. And it does so not just through professional clergy or charismatic leaders, but through ordinary people living faithful lives in ordinary places. That means your kitchen table can become a pulpit. Your backyard can become a sanctuary. Your email, your phone calls, your bedtime stories—all of them can become liturgies of grace, slowly forming the next generation into people who love and follow Jesus. The Courage to Begin—Imperfectly Let’s be honest: many grandparents feel unprepared for this kind of role. They worry that their spiritual knowledge isn’t deep enough. Or they carry regret over past mistakes—as parents or even as believers. Some worry they’ve already missed their chance. But grace means the future is never closed. And discipleship doesn’t require perfection. It requires presence. You don’t need to know how to answer every question. You simply need to show up, with open hands and an open heart. Tell your story. Ask theirs. Read a Psalm together. Pray briefly before a meal. Bless them when they leave. It won’t always feel dramatic—but neither does farming. Seeds are slow. But they are powerful. The Bible is filled with stories of people who started late, stumbled often, and still made a lasting impact. Abraham and Sarah. Naomi. Simeon and Anna. Paul, writing from prison. None of them were impressive by the world’s standards. But they bore witness to a God who is faithful across generations. That’s what this book is about: helping you step into your role as a spiritual elder with clarity, joy, and practical wisdom. Not as a replacement parent. Not as a perfect mentor. But as a faithful witness to the grace of God, shown over time.