“Discipleship Starts at Home

What Are Our Kids Really Learning From Us?”

Thank you, Maury Wood (gritandwit.substack.com), for the guest post today! Give Maury a little substack hug (A.K.A. sub) and follow his super helpful articles on parenting!

Listen to Maury himself read the article in the 🎤audio above and then 👇scroll down👇 and watch the ❓Q&A video where I ask Maury some personal questions about parenting and disciple-making!

Maury Wood is a writer, podcaster, husband, and father of four who believes discipleship starts at home and doesn’t require a seminary degree—just intentionality, humility, and a whole lot of grace. Through his platform Grit & Wit, Maury shares stories that blend biblical truth, dad-life chaos, and the occasional sarcastic one-liner. He’s spent years teaching youth and leading in the local church, and his passion is helping parents model Christ in the everyday moments. Find more of his work at gritandwit.substack.com.

“Let the little children come to me. Don’t stop them, because the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.”
— Jesus, in Mark 10:14 (CSB)

Disicpling our Children

When I became a dad, I didn’t get an instruction manual. I got diapers, panic, and a deep conviction: these little souls were my first calling. Before Life Groups or ministry teams or blog posts or anything with a mic or platform, God handed me four tiny disciples. And like it or not, they’re watching every move I make.

Discipleship starts in the home. On regular Tuesdays. When someone spills a drink and someone else loses their cool. It happens when your voice doesn’t raise, when you take a breath, and when you redirect your kids with truth…and not just tactics.

In our house, discipling our kids means parenting them the way Jesus would want. It’s consistent. When there’s conflict or disobedience, I try to stay calm. I point my children back to Scripture. Not because I’m perfect, but because Jesus is. I try to explain the why behind our actions, not just enforce the rules. Their behavior matters, but their hearts matter more.

When your kids are little, discipleship seems easy. You pray “Now I lay me down to sleep” at bedtime and “God is great, God is good” before dinner. But then they start walking and talking… and lying. That’s when discipleship goes from cute to crucial. It’s in those moments that you realize, yes—we all really are born sinful. And no, they didn’t have to be taught how to hide the broken toy or blame the sibling or lie to attempt to stay out of trouble.

That’s when the work of raising disciples begins.

Karen and I do our best to live Christ-centered lives out loud. Our kids see us read the Bible. They see us pray. We pray for needs, for thanks, and before long car rides (and if we forget, they’re quick to remind us). They see us take notes during sermons. One by one, our kids started asking for their own special notebooks to do the same. Turns out, imitation is a strong form of discipleship. Our son even keeps a running prayer list in his. It is such a blessing to look down our row and see every member of our family, looking at our pastor, glancing down and writing in the books, and then making notes out to the side of things they think of. I asked my daughters why they take notes, and their answer was, “It helps me to remember and pay attention to the sermon. Also, if you are doing it, it must be important and helpful.” How important is our role as parents?

Q&A With Maury Wood…

When one of them has a behavior that needs addressing, I’ll ask, “What does the Bible say about this?” Sometimes they can quote a verse on the spot. Sometimes they search it up on the Bible app. Either way, they know we don’t run our house on vibes and feelings—we run it on truth.

We talk a lot about grace and discipline in our home, because they’re not opposites—they’re partners. Discipline is needed. Without it, you get chaos. But grace? That’s the love you show through it. The Bible says the wages of sin is death. That’s the hard truth. But grace is the gift of Jesus, given freely and undeservedly. I once heard grace described as “God’s Riches At Christ’s Expense.” That sticks with me.

After discipline, I talk with my kids. I ask what they’ve learned. I remind them they are loved and forgiven. I let them know they’re not walking alone through correction. I let them know I’m walking with them. Grace lives in those follow-up conversations.

Still, there are days I’m exhausted. Discipleship doesn’t clock out at 5pm. The fatigue is real, and it’s tempting to respond with “Because I’m the parent, that’s why.” I heard that a lot growing up, but it never helped me understand. I’ve learned to step away, pray, and come back with a better mindset because emotional outbursts aren’t discipleship; patience is.

There have been moments when I didn’t feel like a spiritual leader at all. I once didn’t get a job I really wanted, and it hit me hard. My kids saw it—I wasn’t myself. I wasn’t approachable. But God used even that. After some prayer, I shared my struggle with them and reminded them that God’s plans are always better, even when they’re not mine. And wouldn’t you know it, He showed up. That experience still comes up in our house whenever a sermon hits on trust or divine detours. My kids remember, and I get a nudge and a smile.

Not long ago, my youngest asked about when I was baptized. I wasn’t expecting it, but I shared my testimony. I told him about my walk with Christ, and it sparked something. Now, he’s planning his own baptism. He even attended our church’s “Faith 101” class to make sure he understood what it meant. And he does. Better yet, he owns it. And I thank God for the reminder: every story of Jesus at work is worth telling—even mine.

There are days I wonder if I’m doing enough. If I’m saying the right things. If I’m giving them the foundation they need. But then I remember that voice of failure? That’s not from God. So I pray. I ask for peace. I also thank God for the other believers who pour into my kids at church, through friendships, and in our community. Because it truly takes a village to raise a disciple. And sometimes, a truth from someone else lands deeper than when it comes from Daddy. And that’s okay. Jesus uses all of us.

At the end of the day, I want to see my kids in heaven. I want them pointing others to heaven. As Kevin and I recently talked about, when we were kids, we were told that sin created a chasm between us and God. Now, we describe it as a river. And when you disciple someone, you’re not yelling from the other side. You’re giving them stepping stones. Just one at a time. And walking with them. Until they’re standing at the feet of Jesus.

I don’t want my kids to have what Billy Graham once called “a Christian vaccine”—just enough Christianity to keep them from getting the real thing. I want them to know Christ deeply, not just culturally. And that means I have to model it and not just talk about it.

As parents, we don’t just shape our kids’ behavior. We help shape their view of God. Their understanding of grace. Their experience of love. That starts in our homes, in our rhythms, and in our reactions. Especially when things don’t go our way.

Discipleship isn’t something we schedule.
It’s something we live.

So at the end of the day, I go back to a simple truth I tell myself often:

I can only control myself.

I can’t control how others behave. I can’t control what my kids choose years from now. But I can control whether I’m living a life that points to Jesus.

And if I’ve done that—if I’ve laid those stepping stones across the river one by one—then I’ll know I answered the call.

Let the little children come.
And let them see Jesus… in us.