I missed the sermon again this Sunday. I was there, I just couldn’t listen. My 3 year-old was fussy because we forgot the Cheerios and my 7 year-old continues to push the boundaries of intolerable social behavior. So today I’m thankful for two things; that our sermons are uploaded for podcasting, and family worship.
I vividly remember the first time I set foot in a PCA church. I didn’t arrive on accident. I’d done my homework and knew to expect sound preaching, a reverent environment and a confessional structure that wouldn’t allow for a level of autonomy that would make it much different from other PCA church services I’d watched online. However, the Westminster Divines failed to prepare me for one thing by omitting a chapter on childcare during the service.
At the time I had a 4 year-old and a very pregnant wife. Instinctively we set out to locate the child care area as soon as we were greeted at the door. This was a really nice church in a nice area with about 500 members. Certainly they would have a great children’s area, complete with goldfish, slides, games, movies and coloring books for days. I had no doubt that they could keep my child entertained while we went to enjoy the sermon. We were quickly disappointed to learn that they only watched infants, which left my 4 year-old to sit through an actual church service. As soon as we reached the car for the trip home I remember talking to my wife about the childcare situation. We felt sure our first visit would be our last, and I was disappointed to say the least. That Monday I emailed a friend to tell him about the great church we found and to relay my frustration with the lack of entertainment for the kiddos. His response shocked me a little; “Yeah, we don’t do childcare either. We want our kids to hear and see the Gospel.” He was right, and we returned the next Sunday with an open mind and ready to try family worship. It’s been 3 years since that initial visit. We’ve since started the planting process of a new PCA church closer to home. With each Sunday comes the opportunity to observe a new family walk through the doors for the first time expressing that same look of frustration I once had. I know their concerns well, and as much as I’d like to spend time explaining why our lack of childcare isn’t an unfortunate byproduct of being a newly planted church, I’d rather they come to their own conclusions about the value of family worship. Parenting in the pews isn’t easy. Kids are impatient, easily bored and very wiggly. My boys are disruptive to everyone around, but surprisingly, no one cares. You see it’s one thing to just take your kids to “big church” once or twice a year. It’s totally different when your church has family worship in her DNA. The people get it. They did it too. I pick up on the glances from the envious empty nest crowd that wishes they could go back in time to when their kids held on to their legs while singing ‘Come Thou Fount.’ You’re not alone in a sea of pews as “that parent.” You look around and see others in the same boat. There are tons of other parents out there that want the same thing for their kids. You’re surrounded by covenant families that are trying to model worship for their own children. You might be in the trenches, but you’re never alone. It’s really a beautiful thing to see. Each Sunday I look around and see kids of all ages listening to God’s Word, singing hymns and bowed in prayer. They see their parents worshipping and they do their best to mimic. Instead of seeing church as a room full of kids all made up of the same age coloring pictures of Noah, they hear the full weight of the Gospel and see that the same Gospel transforms the lives of 5th graders, teenagers, the elderly and their parents. They see scripture bearing down on the full spectrum of life. The last few Sundays my 3 year-old has decided to confess his sin corporately along with the rest of us while I feed him lines from our liturgy. I don’t really know what goes on in that little head of his, but at least he’s trying. I’m not delusional enough to believe that he gets the depths of his own sin in the sight of a Holy God, nor do I think he understands the cosmic chaos that came from Adam’s first sinful act of rebellion in the garden. What I do know is that he goes through the motions, and for now, that’s enough. The truth is, I don’t know when God is going to turn on the faucet of His Grace for my beloved children, but I know I want them as close to the sink as possible. I pray for it daily. I do my small part while at home. We catechize them, pray with and over them, read the Bible with them nightly and point out God in everything we can find. When God does turn the water on, I want my kids to get soaked. Until that time, we will worship together, no matter how difficult that might be.
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