Here's something I bet you didn't know about me: within my closest circle of friends I am sometimes known by a curious nickname. What is it, you ask? Well, those who know and love me best have affectionately dubbed me "Covenant Kid."
Now, for those who don't know, a "Covenant Kid" is one who has grown up in the church under the baptismal covenant which binds them to the Body (Church) through God's promise and faithfulness to their believing parents from the time of their infancy. This term typically refers, more specifically, to a human who has grown up in a church that is
Reformed in its teachings.
Hi, I'm Caity and I'm a Covenant Kid.
I feel a little like I'm at an AA meeting writing about this, or publicly proclaiming some wrong, which I am. But it is also much more than that. As my friends know, I have quite the superiority complex and while their nickname keeps me humble through its reminder of the grace that's been shown to me (the whole idea of being a Covenant Kid necessitates an acknowledgement that you did not choose God, or the Church but rather were chosen), it also feeds this little, extremely hungry part of my ego that believes I am better for having grown up this way.
Going to a small Christian school in Pennsylvania that was started by my OP (Orthodox Presbyterian) church and densely populated by children from various Reformed churches in the area, I remember knowing exactly who the mysterious breed of Christians referred to as "Charismatics" were. During class discussions it seemed that the only thing the majority (coming from a variety of Presbyterian churches) and the minority (Charismatics/Nondenomintaionals, Lutherans, etc.) could agree on was that Catholics were "wrong, oh so wrong."
The Struggles
In 9th grade, my youth group literally took a field trip of sorts to a Charismatic church. To my no-hand-raising, clapping-only-during-the-appropriate-songs ("And all the trees of the field will clap, will clap their hands!"), liturgically programmed brain... well, it seemed like chaos. They were singing. Randomly. AND raising their hands! Hand-raising was the stuff of myths, let alone random outbursts of song WITHOUT ANY SPECIFIED LYRICS! Needless to say, it was an experience I will never forget. It is also an experience that probably increased my conviction of my way being the right way.
Being a Covenant Kid, for me, ingrained a sense of self-righteousness that I've never quite grown out of. The edges have been dulled a bit by my 6-years and counting in Oklahoma where I've loved and cared for many with a less structured tilt than myself. However, I still cringe at excessive references to "the Spirit moving" someone to do anything, shake my head at the sight of someone in Bible study with any translation other than the ESV, and repress the desire to jump on anyone whose theology I perceive as being flawed rather than engage them in polite and constructive conversation. It also seems to have a crippling effect on my appreciation of the broadness of the Kingdom. When I become so obsessed with wanting everyone to agree with me and see things my way, I often lose sight of the fact that God is so great and so gracious and so BIG that he builds his kingdom on people as one-track minded as myself as well as the entire spectrum of believers. Despite my attempts to force Christianity into my small, intellectual, comprehensible, and manageable box, God is at work bursting those constraints in which I have actually bound myself.
You Know You're a Covenant Kid When (The Humor)...
Okay, if you don't think that it is hilarious that I had to be taken on a "field trip" in order to see someone raise their hands in worship for the first time (I was in 9th grade people! I was 15!) , well then, you clearly have no sense of humor. Wondering how to know a Covenant Kid when you see one?
Here are a few distinguishing characteristics:
- you are a pro at sword drills and Bible Trivia
- you can recite Catechism by heart ("The chief end of man is to glorify God and enjoy him forever, etc.)
- you can make reference to any and all "-toins" (justification, sanctification, glorification, etc. Put a "-tion" on it and it automatically becomes religious and/or funny)
- your favorite flower is TULIP
- you get slightly disgruntled when your worship leader opts for more contemporary worship songs over the traditional hymns
- you take wine at Communion even though you're under 21
- you can legitimately answer "Jesus" to any question posed in Sunday school and defend it using your knowledge of Covenant theology
The Blessing
The most beautiful thing about this stigma of the "Covenant Kid," the thing that brings me to tears every time I have the privilege of watching an infant be baptized into the Church, is that there will never be a day when that child looks back and sees that he/she didn't know Christ. There is no "testimony" in the most common religious sense of the word, because the testimony lies in the faithfulness of God to complete the good work which he has begun through the instruments of God-fearing parents, the love and care of the local church, and a growth in understanding of what all this means within the child him/herself. I am a Covenant Kid, and I will never be capable of boasting in my own salvation as much as I try. It is not the choice of the child to be brought from death to life, from darkness to light, from sickness to health, but rather they were chosen, even without knowledge, to testify to God's faithfulness and the abundance of life in Him every day of their lives.
