My son was the two-year-old break dancing in the aisle at church on Easter Sunday. I was captivated by his chubby little hands clapping to the beat as he danced around with reckless abandon.
For a moment I forgot we were supposed to be wearing and acting our “Easter Sunday Best”. I forgot people were staring, most certainly judging my inability to keep my kids in line. The part of my mom brain that’s always shouting, questioning my decisions, telling me I should just take my kids out where they’d be less of a distraction, was suddenly drowned out by my son making a joyful noise to the Lord.
On Easter morning, my two-year-old taught me some things are worth the work and not worth the stress.
Sunday mornings with babies is quite the contrast to Sunday mornings pre-babies. I could get into all the reasons why getting everyone out the door and through church is work, but those with littles need no reminders, and those without littles have either been through it or sat next to a frazzled mom.
In an era where online church has become so convenient, physically going to church can feel like an exercise in futility.
As a mom of two, two, and under, I’m here to say, going to church is worth the work.
From generation to generation.
A few weeks ago as we were gathering up our children after church, an elderly man made his way across the aisle to talk to me. I instinctively braced myself for what was sure to be said next.
“I really enjoyed your children this morning,” he said with kindness in his eyes.
There I stood, wearing yesterday’s hairstyle, bent over by the weight of the car seat in one hand, backpack slung over one shoulder, eyes darting around searching for my roaming toddler.
Who, me? My kids?
****An untimely squeal from a baby. A little one heading down the center aisle as if answering an altar call. A loud announcement to the church regarding the contents of a dirty diaper. Break dancing in the aisle during worship.
Children, for all the ways they stress mom and dad, bring such delight to an onlooker. The innocence and joy radiating from a child is an instant mood enhancer. Their very presence speaks to a hope few preachers could match with even the most eloquent of sermons. Their presence among the kingdom people is every bit as necessary as the slow-moving, gray-haired man offering carefully chosen words of encouragement to the frazzled generation behind him. Don't let your pride or fear of embarrassment stand in the way of your children bringing laughter and levity to a church full of hurting people.
These things take time
A few days after Easter, I was making dinner as the kids played in the living room. I asked Alexa to “play music”. As the music began to play, my son jumped up and down shouting “YAY! SING SONGS TO JESUS MOMMA! SING SONGS TO JESUS!”
I was reminded how seemingly insignificant decisions like singing/playing songs of worship throughout the day have a long-standing effect on my children. My son knows nothing of the theology of singing to the Lord, and yet He hears his mom or dad sing over him when he’s inconsolable. He hears his momma singing hymns when she needs to remember the truth. He sees the joy in coming together as a family as we sing “Jesus Loves Me” before bed each night. And on a fairly regular occasion, we get our wiggles out by singing and dancing as wild and freely as we can.
Unfortunately, he didn’t have much experience with corporate worship in 2020. So on Easter morning, when he was finally around a whole host of people who were all singing songs in worship, he never thought twice. He joined in, singing and dancing as freely as he had seen and done in his home.
Parenting is a long game. We won’t see the fruit of our efforts today. I know my children are too young to understand why we make the effort to go to church each week. I know they don’t understand the point of the sermon or the depths of the song lyrics. But they do know each week we take time away from our usual routine and we gather with other people who also sing songs to Jesus. My prayer is week by week, little by little my children will begin to see and savor the community and privilege afforded by being an active part of a local church as they begin to truly see and savor Jesus. Don't buy the lie that church doesn't matter when kids are young. You are laying a foundation for them they will, Lord willing, build upon the rest of their lives.
Human connection
Sometimes as a mom it feels like every in-person connection is interrupted, cut short, or disjointed at best. It often feels pointless to even try. Prior to 2020, it may have been hard to imagine how a smile, a quick hug, or a simple face-to-face hello could make such a difference. The isolating effects of a worldwide pandemic brought to the surface what has always been true. We are physical beings by design. We need real, in-person connections. Even the connections that are disjointed and interrupted. Church provides a regular weekly stop to say hello, to look someone in the eye, to connect. It's not likely you'll get the deep uninterrupted soul-level connections you crave right then and there. But these connecting points lead to playdates, encouraging texts throughout the week, a sister in Christ putting her arm around you in solidarity, a brief, pointed prayer. Little reminders we’re not alone. Go to church- have the broken, imperfect conversations. Community in any form is worth the work.
You’re not alone.
Next time you’re in church and the music begins, do yourself a favor and look at the back row. It is either filled with the most Spirit-filled worshipers you ever did see, or it’s filled with frazzled moms and dads bouncing fussy babies to the beat, stomping their feet and clapping their hands with their restless toddlers or swaying sleepy babies to sleep. It’s really quite something to take in. Something about those 15-20minutes brings about a sense of connectedness. It’s an unspoken reminder, I’m not alone. Moms and dads of littles across the church are facing similar challenges. Those 15-20minutes of worship are a beautiful unchoreographed dance of those who are choosing to show up. They’re tired, frustrated, anxious, hopeful, but present.
So come. Come late, leave early. Bring snacks and coloring books. Drop your kids off in the nursery or hold them in your arms. Breakdance in the aisles if you must. Just come. Then come again next week. Your kids need you to come. The church needs you. I need you.
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