There was a family at my previous parish who told me the story of worshipping with their two young ADHD sons. The mother told me that the boys would sing the hymns loudly and off-key, and often with the wrong words. They would offer a response many seconds too late (amen, and also with you, etc.), and often loudly. They would exclaim thoughts that came to their mind when they heard the scriptures (How long does it take Jesus to count the hairs on our heads? Does it hurt?). And yes, they sometimes played with toy cars that sometimes crashed to the floor. They sometimes screamed and had to go outside for a bit with their mother or father. But she loved having them in worship with her, because the snuggles they had there were the best snuggles she got all week. One day a letter came in the mail without a return address. It was a hand-written note from a parishioner at our church. This parishioner berated this mother for “disrupting worship for the entire parish.” She told the mother that the church had a nursery and preschool care for a reason, and that she should utilize them for the good of the parish. She didn’t sign the letter. My mental response to her story was, in this order: shock at the letter; shock at the immediate willingness to accuse, but not the strength to do so in name; horror for the mother and father; and then a nibbling sense of understanding the parishioner’s perspective.
As adults, sometimes we get very self-focused about church. It is “me” time, or time for “God and me,” or a time of rest and refreshment for the week. We lose sight of the fact that worship is about God, and not about us. It is about glorifying the Lord with all that we have and all that we are. This is not an easy proposition! As we forget the meaning of worship, sometimes we get a reminder. That reminder can come in the form of a small voice uttering “Amen” a few seconds too late, or a sense of awe and wonder coming from a child who has just discovered light coming through the stained glass window. Sometimes we can be reminded of the purpose of worship by the cries of a child, because that child reminds us of the proximity and struggles of all of our community – and our need to intercede on their behalf.
The response of the child from my previous parish was appropriate to the worship service, and his response to the readings was a vulnerable willingness to believe and wonder at God’s power and grace. We should all be so lucky to remember how to respond to God from a position of vulnerability and awe! In Parenting in the Pew, Robbie Castleman calls children in worship “gifts of grace.” If we take this perspective, it may change our experience of worship forever.
As adults, sometimes we get very self-focused about church. It is “me” time, or time for “God and me,” or a time of rest and refreshment for the week. We lose sight of the fact that worship is about God, and not about us. It is about glorifying the Lord with all that we have and all that we are. This is not an easy proposition! As we forget the meaning of worship, sometimes we get a reminder. That reminder can come in the form of a small voice uttering “Amen” a few seconds too late, or a sense of awe and wonder coming from a child who has just discovered light coming through the stained glass window. Sometimes we can be reminded of the purpose of worship by the cries of a child, because that child reminds us of the proximity and struggles of all of our community – and our need to intercede on their behalf.
The response of the child from my previous parish was appropriate to the worship service, and his response to the readings was a vulnerable willingness to believe and wonder at God’s power and grace. We should all be so lucky to remember how to respond to God from a position of vulnerability and awe! In Parenting in the Pew, Robbie Castleman calls children in worship “gifts of grace.” If we take this perspective, it may change our experience of worship forever.