Since September, my eldest has started middle school. The school is too far to walk, yet the bus route is complicated and hectic during morning hours. After some thought, I went into the garage and pulled out two bicycles covered in dust. They hadn’t been used since we moved to London. I brushed off the dust, pumped up the tires, and early the next morning, my son and I set out together on our bikes.
After morning devotion, we leave home together. The road to school has a steady incline. By the time our breathing gets heavy and our legs start to ache, the school comes into view. Thankfully, the ride back home is mostly downhill. It’s good exercise, but more than that, I’m grateful to begin each day breathing the morning air with my son. It clears my mind, like a quiet walk in the park.
Not long ago, something happened that made me pause. My wife and I were talking in the living room when we suddenly heard our youngest crying upstairs. “What’s going on up there?” I called out. A moment later, we heard footsteps pounding down the stairs. Our eldest appeared, carrying the crying little one on his back. My wife smiled and said, “He’s doing exactly what you do. Kids really watch everything.” I realized then that whether it’s me vacuuming the floor diligently or riding a bike, those small, ordinary moments became examples for my children.
Truthfully, I’ve never been one for sports. Cycling is just one of the few kinds of exercise I find natural and enjoyable. When I was in eighth grade, my brother and I rode our bikes from Seoul to Busan over five days. Maybe that’s why taking out the bikes to play with my children feels second nature to me. Even my younger ones already love cycling.
Of course, I don’t always influence my children in positive ways. They see my weaknesses, too. That’s why I try to be more mindful. My children can sense what truly lies at the center of my life—what I genuinely love and treasure.
One day, it struck me: My kids like what I like. The things I enjoy, feel comfortable with, and keep close—my children naturally learn to love those too. So if loving God, reading His Word, meditating on it, praying, and worshiping are truly my delight and desire, then that love for God will surely take root in their hearts and lives as well.
Words alone can never outweigh a lived example. What matters more than how I talk about faith is how I live it. What do I love most? What do I keep close? My children are watching—and learning—from that.
As I watch my son pedaling ahead of me on his bike, I whisper a prayer: “Lord, let my children find it natural to love You, to draw near to You, and to walk with You. And above all, help me to love You more deeply, Lord.”
