Twenty miles from my house stands a huge open field with a set of train tracks laying down its forged rails all the way to the horizon. But what’s this? A parallel set of tracks, maybe fifty yards to the right of the original, runs its course alongside the first. Two trains are obviously welcome to clatter their way up and down the valley, carrying their agricultural treasures to the rest of the state. 

I guess we need two of them. But so close together? I wonder if eighty years ago the men who first hammered those iron rails into place didn’t see the other work crew from across the field and wave from time to time. Why, look at that team of workers over there. Seems we could’ve collaborated somehow, saved ourselves a few blisters and a fortune.

And so is the story of two railroad companies running in the same direction. Same freight. Two trains. It’s the story of Christian education, really, whose common goal it is to carry our children from one end of childhood to the other, but who can’t always decide which train to use.

We all know the philosophical divide that exists between Christians in both homeschooling communities and those in public education. It splinters our churches, it gossips at our potlucks, and settles into the neighborhood. I’ve met a few ambivalent folks, but most people can get downright militant when it comes to choosing an educational freight train. It has become a polarizing and nasty debate where both sides seem to have an unhealthy suspicion of each other.

If you’re waiting to see on whose side I will land, you might be disappointed. I am not up for the fight. Truth is, there’s plenty of self-important assuredness to go around. (If you’re not sure, google the words “homeschooling” and you’ll find a lively exchange on your hands.) Most people are all too eager to jump into the debate at different times, usually to defend their own self-interest. I am no different from anyone else; we all have a need to articulate our decision in a way that speaks to our maturity, our noble goals, and our goodness. We never admit the weaknesses in our chosen system because then, you know, our faulty motives might be exposed. It is for this reason that the following will never be heard at a church potluck over helpings of Macaroni Bake and Chocolate Yummy:

If we can admit that both sides have some work to do, let’s start with our homeschooling friends who, like all minorities, are in the unenviable position of playing defense. We expect a secular society to frown at their radicalism, but many of their fiercest critics are, sadly, fellow Christians. Homeschooling families must always fight the relentless expectation of a paranoid, overprotective, sit-at-the-kitchen-table-all-day stereotype. They can usually convince their foes of an academic advantage, but they rarely get an inch of grace when it comes to the ugly socialization question.

Let's be real now. Have you ever met this closeted hoard of social misfits that we discuss behind closed doors? Are the outskirts of town really full of skittish youngsters wearing homemade overalls who jump at the first sign of strangers? The truth is that there are few homeschooled kids you wouldn’t absolutely love to take home with you—especially those whose lives have been transformed by their relationship with God. Many times we rush to find the flaws in a system that challenges our own thinking. When one of our brothers or sisters can make a radical decision in the name of Christ, we had best listen up. Usually a gracious, clear-headed discussion with our enemy settles our deepest fears.

Of course, a few nut cases are lurking in the shadows. We love them because now we can funnel all of our fears into a flesh-and-blood case study. But we must admit that not all homeschooling families share the same philosophy about education. One family needs to address a special needs child while another finds itself in a sub-par school district. One family’s career requires constant mobility while another family loves the camaraderie of shared discovery. Why is this so hard to understand?

All right, so homeschooling families might not be the enemy we were hoping to find. What about the public school argument? While giving plenty of grace to the individual decisions of Christian families, I’ll also share a little truth that’s been kept on the down low. Public school families have often been made to feel wayward and “unenlightened” by those who believe they’ve found higher consciousness in homeschooling. Nothing alienates two sides more than a condescending nod before scurrying off to criticize.

What about the serious, God-transformed parents who examine all of the options and still decide to partner with a local school district? In the abstract debate, they are often painted by homeschooling advocates as uninformed, hopelessly naïve, or even flat-out wrong.

Few Christians would try to paint a rosy picture of public education. For many children, public schools have failed miserably—not so much because of the institution itself, but because the distractions of poverty, fractured families, and bureaucratic bickering. But it also mirrors the rest of the world—past and present—where God’s people must bring light to dark places and train their children to navigate all the tough patches. It may be hard for home schooling families to realize that not every God-centered, public school family has soft reasons for partnering with a flawed system. To assume that Christian parents are automatically relinquishing their responsibility by sending Johnny to Room 8 is dangerous. It alienates the common goal we all share: to raise up strong-minded, well informed children who know God intimately while they serve God and man.

Christians seem particularly prone to elitism going back to the days when the Pharisees were more than happy to write the daily agenda for everyone. As with many cultural issues, it might be important to decide which kinds of absolutes are required (think doctrine) and which kinds of absolutes are divisive (think education). Strong-minded people hate to think that all their fighting might be wasted, but such strength is best poured into the children rather than the ideological enemy. The raising up of Christ-focused children is a singular task with many applications.

The flat-out truth is this: all education is risky. It gathers facts, formulas, morality, information, children, methods, and teachers—and throws them all in a blender. The scary part is that you can add ten great ingredients, but a wacky combination can result in one freaky smoothie. When that happens, you try again.

There is plenty of room for variety in education. Let’s not forget that we haven’t even addressed the myriad of other choices besides the two mentioned here. The public arena has been tossing up ideas for centuries and has had all sorts of success with all sorts of models. Education is a science on some days, and an art on others. It uses hands, books, trees, and conversations. It consists of a fleet of ships: relationships, internships, and apprenticeships. The academic methods are less important than the outcome.

And the outcome? We can find authentic, intelligent, godly adults in every community who have been educated by all sorts of people in all sorts of classrooms. Our job is to poke and uncover and take risks until we find the one that works best for our child, all the while realizing that his spirit and mind is hopelessly entangled. For that reason, we choose our ingredients carefully.

So the two trains keep moving down the track. We each load our freight, and hope that the ride isn’t too bumpy. If it’s taking too long, we can always stop at the next shipping station and change trains. Perhaps on the way to our destination, we would do well to look across the ugly field and wave to the other engineer. He’s doing the same thing as we are, carrying precious cargo to the other side.