You start by bringing them. Baptize them as infants, bring them to liturgy every Sunday, and build a life of prayer at home. That’s the foundation.
But I know you’re asking for more than that. You want to know how to make this work when your toddler won’t sit still, when your teenager rolls their eyes at fasting, when you’re exhausted from a twelve-hour shift at the plant and Sunday morning feels impossible. You want to know what Orthodox formation actually looks like in a house in Southeast Texas where half the extended family thinks you’ve joined a cult.
Here’s the thing: we don’t raise children to “accept Jesus into their hearts” at age seven or twelve or whenever they’re old enough to make a decision. We raise them inside the Church from the beginning. Baptism isn’t a symbol of something they’ll choose later. It’s the moment they’re united to Christ, chrismated with the Holy Spirit, and brought into the Body. They’re Orthodox Christians from that day forward, and everything else is helping them grow into what they already are.
That’s not how your Baptist relatives see it, I know. They’ll ask when your kids are going to “get saved.” You can explain gently that we believe they already are being saved, that salvation isn’t a one-time decision but a lifelong process of union with God. Or you can just smile and change the subject. Either way, don’t let their questions make you second-guess the Church’s wisdom. We’ve been baptizing infants since the apostles.
At Church
Bring them to liturgy. Every Sunday, unless someone’s genuinely sick or you’re evacuating for a hurricane. Yes, even when they’re squirmy. Especially when they’re squirmy.
Toddlers won’t understand what’s happening. That’s fine. They’re soaking it in anyway, the smell of incense, the priest’s voice, the rhythm of standing and sitting, the taste of antidoron. Sit toward the back if you need to step out. Bring a quiet toy or a board book about saints. Don’t expect perfection. The goal isn’t perfect behavior; it’s consistent presence.
As they get older, teach them the responses. Sing “Lord have mercy” at home during the week. Show them when to cross themselves. Let them light a candle and kiss an icon when you arrive. These small physical acts root them in the liturgy’s rhythm.
For teenagers, the challenge shifts. They might complain it’s boring or long. They might question why we do things this way. Don’t panic. Questions aren’t apostasy. Keep bringing them, but also create space for honest conversation. Get them involved in altar service or chanting if they’re willing. Send them to Antiochian Village or a regional teen retreat where they’ll meet other Orthodox kids. Sometimes a peer or a camp counselor can say what you’ve been saying for years and suddenly it clicks.
At Home
Your home needs to be a little church. Not in some precious, Instagram-perfect way, but in the sense that prayer and Scripture and the rhythms of the faith are woven into ordinary life.
Set up an icon corner. It doesn’t have to be elaborate, a couple of icons, a candle, maybe a censer if you want. Pray there as a family. Morning or evening, pick one and stick with it. Keep it short. The Trisagion Prayers, a psalm, intercessions for people you know. Five minutes. Kids can handle five minutes, and five minutes of consistent prayer will form them more than an hour of sporadic attempts.
Bless your children. Make the sign of the cross on their foreheads before bed or before they leave for school. It takes three seconds and it tells them they’re loved by God and by you.
Read Scripture together, even if it’s just the Sunday Gospel at breakfast. Talk about the saints whose feasts you’re celebrating. When it’s the Nativity Fast, explain why you’re fasting and what you’re preparing for. When it’s Pascha, make it a big deal, decorate eggs, bake bread, stay up for the midnight service if they’re old enough.
Feed them the faith in small, steady doses. You’re not trying to turn them into tiny theologians. You’re helping them see that being Orthodox isn’t what we do on Sunday morning; it’s who we are all week long.
About Fasting and Feasts
Teach them to fast, but adapt it to their age. A four-year-old doesn’t need to keep the full fast. Maybe they skip meat on Wednesdays. Maybe they give up a favorite snack during Lent. The point is learning self-discipline and remembering God, not rigid rule-keeping.
And don’t make fasting grim. We fast so we can feast. Let them see that the rhythm of the Church year is a gift, the anticipation of Nativity, the solemnity of Holy Week, the explosion of joy at Pascha. If fasting feels like punishment, you’re doing it wrong.
When It’s Hard
Some weeks you’ll fail. You’ll miss a liturgy because someone threw up at 6 a.m. You’ll skip evening prayers because everyone’s exhausted. That’s life. Don’t let guilt paralyze you. Just start again the next day.
And when your kids push back or drift or seem indifferent, remember that you’re planting seeds. You can’t force faith, but you can provide the soil where it grows. Keep praying. Keep bringing them. Keep living the faith in front of them as best you can.
St. Theophan the Recluse wrote that the goal of Christian parenting isn’t to control our children but to nurture their relationship with God. You’re not the Savior. You’re a guide pointing them toward the One who is. Do that faithfully, and trust God with the outcome.
If you want to go deeper, pick up Parenting Toward the Kingdom by Philip Mamalakis from Ancient Faith Publishing. It’s the best book I know on Orthodox parenting, practical and spiritually grounded. And talk to other parents in the parish. You’re not alone in this. We’re all figuring it out together, one Sunday at a time.
