Training

By Bro. Robert Green – October 24, 2025, Friday Evening Revival Service

I’m thankful that the old ship of Zion is still afloat. Through the waters of time, storms have risen and waves have battered, but the Church still holds its course. The Lord has kept us, and though distractions have tried to destroy and confuse, the direction remains clear. My heart tonight is not one of rivalry or competition, but of personal growth. I want to be more for God tomorrow than I am today. I’m not measuring myself against others, but against who I was yesterday. My goal is to be a better servant, a better man, and a better father in Christ. That growth doesn’t happen by accident—it happens through training.

Training doesn’t sound glamorous, but everything of lasting value depends on it. No one steps into a calling already knowing everything they must do. Even in the natural, we get trained before we know we’re being trained. When I started at my job, I didn’t have the full skill set, but someone saw honesty and integrity as qualities worth investing in. The technical part could be taught—the character had to be there first.

Training, in its purest sense, is the process of forming something—or someone—into usefulness. It takes instruction, repetition, and discipline. Without it, even the best intentions end in confusion. You can have talent, but without training, it will show up wrong when it matters most.

Some of the most powerful training happens without a classroom or a textbook. Take a simple song like Happy Birthday. I never had to sit down and teach my daughter how to sing it. She learned by hearing it sung correctly again and again. She absorbed the right tune long before she understood music theory. That’s what happens in every home—we train those who watch us, even when we don’t realize it.

I learned how to sing tenor sitting in front of my dad in church, hearing his voice every week. I didn’t know it was training; I was just listening. But that’s how formation works—quietly, consistently, and often unconsciously. The things we say, the way we respond, and the values we show are training our children long before we explain them.

The Cost of Improper Training

Years ago, when I worked in the mines, I met men who were called “BBs”—bridge, block, and bypass electricians. They could make things work quickly but not safely. Their shortcuts produced results but ignored the rules. And when it came time to rely on their work, it often failed. I learned that doing something right the first time—no matter how long it takes—is the only way training pays off.

Bad training leads to bad outcomes. It’s possible to look like you’re doing something right and still be completely off-key. Just as a song sung out of tune grates on the ear, a life lived without godly training grates against the witness of truth. What feels “good enough” to us might sound all wrong in heaven’s harmony.

We’ve all been shaped by what we’ve seen and heard. My dad wouldn’t own a Dodge truck because of one bad experience his father had. He trained me, without meaning to, to prefer one brand over another. That’s how easily assumptions harden into convictions. The same thing happens spiritually: if we cling to opinions, traditions, and habits that God is trying to refine, we can set them in concrete and call them holy.

We must let God control the training. Every man’s ways seem right in his own eyes, but we’re called to be shaped by His Word, not our preferences. The lessons we live by—and pass to our children—must come from Scripture, not convenience.

True training doesn’t stop at behavior; it forms the heart. In gardening, to “train” means to lead or direct the growth of a plant. A vine that’s left alone will twist whichever way it pleases. But a gardener ties it, prunes it, and guides it toward the sunlight. Our children are much the same. They don’t come equipped with obedience or love—they must be shown and shaped. Discipline isn’t cruelty; it’s mercy that steers them toward fruitfulness.

Our children won’t naturally know how to love, share, or obey. That’s not part of the factory settings. Those traits have to be trained. It’s not the pastor’s job, nor the Sunday school teacher’s—it’s the parents’ duty. Others can reinforce the lessons, but they can’t replace the source. God entrusted those little souls to us.

A good trainer understands motivation. With a dog, you find what reward speaks to them—food, affection, or praise—and you use it to shape their behavior. With children, the same principle applies. Praise what’s right, correct what’s wrong, and repeat it with consistency. They learn not only the words of instruction but the spirit behind them.

The Spiritual Parallel

Proverbs 22:6 tells us to “train up a child in the way he should go,” and that when he is old, “he will not depart from it.” That verse doesn’t promise a life without failure, but it does establish responsibility. Our role is to plant truth so deeply that even if our children wander, the roots still hold. Whether through stories, Scripture, or prayer, we are forming the soil of their souls.

Training is not a one-time event—it’s a daily shaping of perspective. Just as a puppy doesn’t learn to sit after one command, our children don’t become godly after one correction. It takes patience, repetition, and the wisdom to match firmness with love. The goal is not control, but character.

Children learn more from observation than instruction. If we sing the right tune at church but live off-key at home, we’re raising hypocrites. They hear what we say, but they feel what we do. You can’t come to church and speak of love, then go home and serve up “Saint Soup and Preacher Hash.” The same tongue that blesses on Sunday shouldn’t criticize on Monday. The smell of early influence clings like spaghetti sauce in a plastic bowl—it never quite leaves. If we model inconsistency, we teach inconsistency. The only way to raise steady believers is to live a steady life before them.

Correction is part of love. In Proverbs 23:14, we read that proper discipline “shall deliver his soul from hell.” That doesn’t mean cruelty—it means care in action. The right correction is timely and measured. If a child misbehaves in church, waiting until tomorrow to address it won’t connect cause and consequence. Discipline, to be effective, must meet the moment. But discipline without gentleness hardens hearts; correction with patience softens them toward God.

God’s own correction is gentle. Psalm 18:35 says, “Thy gentleness hath made me great.” That’s how He trains us—not with humiliation, but with holiness wrapped in kindness. And as parents, we’re called to mirror that.

The home is the first classroom of faith. Prayer shouldn’t be a mystery that begins only at the altar—it should echo at the breakfast table and the bedside. “Go pray,” means little to a child unless they’ve seen prayer modeled. Kneel with them. Let them hear you thank God for the day. That’s where reverence begins.

If we teach them to respect prayer, Scripture, and worship at home, they’ll carry that respect into church. But if we let frustration train them—snapping when they act up or retreating when it’s hard—we’re letting convenience shape them instead of conviction.

The habits formed in youth will shape the rest of life. Early godly impressions rarely fade. Our prayers, our examples, and our corrections are all forms of spiritual architecture. Every time we bend a will in love, we’re building something eternal.

Even when our children grow and leave home, our influence doesn’t end. The prayers we pray at their bedsides outlive our presence. The way we trained them to respond to conviction, to value truth, and to seek God—that remains.

Sometimes the hardest lesson as parents is realizing that we’re still being trained too. God works with us as we work with them. Every time He corrects us gently, He’s showing us how to correct others. Every time He withholds wrath and offers patience, He’s teaching us the art of mercy. And the more we imitate His training, the more our homes reflect His peace.

The Lord doesn’t parent by shame or shouting. He corrects by presence—by conviction, not condemnation. Our goal is to cultivate that same spirit in our children, so they grow up loving authority, not fearing it; desiring holiness, not resenting it.

Passing the Baton

Someday, our children will make choices without us watching. That’s when we’ll learn whether our training held. Did we just manage their behavior, or did we shape their hearts? The goal of Christian parenting isn’t compliance—it’s conviction. We don’t raise performers; we raise disciples.

Every generation must take what it’s been taught and build upon it. Just as the first Christians were trained by hardship, our children must be trained by faith. Our task is not to shelter them from struggle, but to equip them to stand within it.

At the end of it all, we rest on the same truth David did: “Thy gentleness hath made me great.” That verse carries the heartbeat of all Christian training. God’s power is never detached from His tenderness. And if we want our children to love Him, they must see that gentleness through us.

Training is not punishment—it’s preparation. It’s how we turn lessons into lives and lives into legacies. The hand that steadies a child today shapes the soul that stands tomorrow. And when that soul stands strong in faith, we’ll know the time and patience were worth it.

Scripture Reference List

Proverbs 22:6 – “Train up a child in the way he should go…”Teaches that early guidance shapes lifelong character; training plants principles that endure.

Psalm 18:35 – “Thy gentleness hath made me great.”Illustrates that God’s method of correction is marked by patience and compassion, not severity.

Proverbs 23:14 – “Withhold not correction from the child…”Reinforces the need for loving discipline that protects the soul from destruction.

Proverbs 29:15 – “The rod and reproof give wisdom.”Shows that guidance and correction together produce understanding and maturity.

Proverbs 13:24 – “He that spareth his rod hateth his son.”Warns that ignoring discipline is neglecting love.

Galatians 5:22-23 – “The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace…temperance.”Demonstrates that self-control and spiritual training are inseparable from godliness.

Reflective Questions

1. What kind of “training” am I unconsciously giving those who watch my life?

2. Am I passing down spiritual truth through consistent example, or habits born from personal preference and convenience?

3. How can I better reflect His mercy when I discipline, lead, or teach?

4. Am I teaching my children or those I influence to look right before people, or to be right before God?

5. Are there areas where my private tone doesn’t match my public testimony—and what impact could that be having on my family’s faith?

6. What am I doing today to ensure their faith endures when my voice is no longer guiding them?