The hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life is an ongoing adventure. It’s having a family.

Of course the normal issues play into this: the time it takes to coordinate schedules, get my daughter ready to go with me to meetings, to squeeze in a meal and a nap somewhere, and still find some quality time with my wife; the need to plan around appointments, learn the ability to Frankenstein a crazy budget when unexpected car trouble finds us, and so on.

All of those are concerns, along with a million other new wrinkles in life when one starts a family of his or her own, that make life a rollercoaster ride indeed. But those are problems that, over time, you can get somewhat deft at handling. Each parent finds a way to manage time (some definitely better than others); schedules somehow get coordinated <em>just</em> enough.

There are other concerns, moments really, that cannot be mastered. They can only be weathered as each family attempts to find a way to deal with these moments.

Today, in the bathroom, my daughter told me about God sending people to hell. We’ve never talked about it—she’s only three years old, you see, and frankly, it isn’t an issue of whether I think <em>she’s</em> ready to handle it or not. It’s that <em>I’m</em> not. I am unsettled, to say the least, on this particular issue. I asked her where she had learned that, and here’s where the wrinkle comes in that makes this a truly landmark family issue: “From mom.”

I didn’t know what to say. You see, one reason that being a part of a family is so hard is because there are at least two different perspectives on nearly everything. And unlike other relationships, this isn’t one that simply agreeing to disagree is always a viable option. A large percentage of the time, those perspectives converge. But what happens when they don’t?

When I myself was around three years old, my mother was going with another lady from our small community church to visit an elderly lady in our very small farm town in Idaho. As my mother talked with the lady, she told my mother that she was in a ‘mixed marriage.’ My mother was pretty amazed at this, because she thought it was pretty radical for a lady of her age, from her era, and from such a small, behind the times town in Idaho to be married to someone from another race. She made mention of this later to the other lady from the church as they were leaving. “Oh, no, she’s not talking about someone from another ethnicity. She’s married to someone from another religion.” On and off since then, I’ve wondered how families navigate these murky and sometimes tumultuous waters.

Life on one’s own is already a tough balancing act. There are all of the questions about how to live out your faith in public, or if you even should. Who is safe to be open and honest with about doubts? Will people understand my own views that run counter to the seemingly communal beliefs held by my own religious congregation?

But when a family is in the mix, especially with children, things can get a little dicey. What if my theological views do not line up, in some areas, with my spouse? How do we have conversations about these things without making each other feel alienated or inferior/superior? And what do we hand on to our children? Is it okay to present two different views, or even all of the potential views, to our children? Or will this lead to unsettling confusion?

I don’t have a lot of answers for this. All of this is new ground for me. Over time, my views and my wife’s views have indeed converged in a lot of areas, but as with any relationship, there are areas where we simply do not agree or, at the very least, one or both of us are not sure where we actually stand, because one or both of us might still be processing where we are. And of course, nothing is ever really a settled issue, as we both continue to learn and grow.

Ultimately, this is where I’ve found some hope. I know that I am never going to stand on anything like ‘solid ground,’ because I know that the very ground I stand on incorporates things handed on by others down to me as well as my own flawed reasoning. I can only be humbly open, to correction and adjustment, and always be willing to learn, adapt, and change. This, as a parent, is something of a legacy that I would like to pass on to my daughter and her sister that is on the way. I don’t want to raise parrots, but active-questioning-always-learning adults. This means modeling for my children that I value multiple perspectives and lines of reasoning. It means I have to be willing to have open, honest dialogue with my wife about the views we hold that are different from one another, and not hide from them or ignore them. And it also means I have to show the humility to be changed by my wife’s perspectives when (more often than not) she is right.

What about you? What areas have you had disagreement in your family? If you are single or not in a family relationship such as I am, how do you deal with differences with those you are close to? If you have children, what kind of legacy do you want to pass on? Is it okay to offer many different views to a child, or do children benefit (initially) from more concrete explanations?